We arrived in Tunis at about 4:00 PM, and were expected to have dinner with Chaplain Davis at 7:00PM in a local restaurant entitled “Dareljeld.” Although it was lightly raining, we insisted on accessing the restaurant by foot rather than via our private bus. On our way to the restaurant we passed by the Ministere Des Finances’ building, and various intricately designed doors along Rue De La Dribat. I was in a complete awe as we navigated the cobble stone roads that lead to our restaurant. I was especially moved by the Quanun player and his playing of the familiar tunes “Battle Hymn of the Republic” and “When the Saints Go Marching.”
Upon leaving this restaurant, a man waiting by the door to pour liquid Jasmine water perfume on my hands for “good luck.” I felt chills when this perfume water was poured unto my hands. Imagine, someone waiting at a beautiful golden door with Jasmine water poured out of a golden canteen. To get to the restaurant, we had to knock on the door. An unmarked door. Imagine the doors that we fail to open simply because we do not knock. Tunis, on the first day, has my spirit in awe. There is a still quietness to this city that matches the depths of my soul.
Prior to coming to this trip, I kept telling my friends and family members that I wanted to open myself up to the world. Although, I was visible in my surrounding Columbia community and my Harlem community, there were strong still moments of quietude that felt deafening and lonely. I know that it is possible to be lonely and also not alone. These two states can exist in the same space. However, I kept saying this phrase over and over again to everyone that I spoke to. I rarely knew what I meant when I said this phrase. However, the night after dinner it all became quite clear. The Jasmine water perfume that dripped from my hand reminded me that my prayers had been answered. The word Jasmine comes from the Persian word yasmine, or gift from God. The petals of the flower remain closed during the day and open between five and eight o’clock in the evening. Jasmine, first imported from Andalucía in the sixteenth century, is Tunisia’s national flower. Foreign journalists began referring to the Tunisian revolution as the Jasmine Revolution in the 1980s.
To be wished well by a complete stranger, felt like a blessing from God to me. As I said my goodbye to family members, I listened very closely to the ways that they said “good-bye” to me. Some said “I love you and will see you soon,” “have fun,” “be well,” and “stay safe.” Although I knew that I would be miles away from my permanent place of residence, I became so accustomed and acculturated to the emptiness within the pleasantries of a “simple” New York exchange of greetings. The bar was set so low because I had been craving an authentic human connection for so long. I was almost moved to tears by this simple act in Dareljeld. I needed to interact with someone who was genuinely interested in my well-being. It was all the more powerful to receive this blessing at the beginning of this fellowship.
