Watch my style

One of my favorite past times back at Columbia is walking through the streets of Harlem and supporting the local vendors and merchants. In Harlem, there is an African Market Place that was built in support by Mayor Dinkins to support the African migrants who were selling their items on the streets. I love escaping into Harlem and walking through Little Senegal and hearing the voices of the people as I moved through the streets. As I stroll pass the mosque in Harlem, I hear people speaking Arabic. Because I speak Wolof, I can hear and understand the words that they are saying. Walking down the streets of Harlem provides me a sense of comfort. Gliding through the streets of Tunisia with the other Kraft Global Fellows does the same. I hear the hustle and the bustle in Centre Ville de Tunis in the same way that I feel the cars of Harlem whooshing past me in the streets. As I passed the Great Mosque of Kairouan, I heard the call to prayer, in a voice that sounded similar to one that I hear on my way back from volunteering at Harlem Hospital.

Upon my entry into the reservoir viewing site of Kairouan (Bassins des Aghlabides), I was able to find a gift shop that sold Chechias, a traditional Tunisian headwear. I immediately knew that this was where I wanted to purchase my hat because the man that stood at the doorway rolled Jasmine fragrance unto my hand. I had to run upstairs to meet the group, but I told the shop owner to keep the chechia behind the counter for me because it was the last one on the shelf. He said “keep it and take it with you.” I was excited because taking items with you and being expected to “come back” is unheard of in the United States. There is a level of trust that I feel amongst the Kraft Global Fellows and with the various Tunisian people that I have met. In New York, I have built these defense mechanisms to protect myself. While on this trip, I have discovered that there is nothing wrong with being your most vulnerable self. Relax. Take a deep breath.

As I stroll the markets wearing my new burgundy wool chechia, I noticed that people in Kairouan and even in Sousse began to look at me differently. The people of Kairouan and Sousse treat me differently. People in the street began to nod their head in slight approval. Men scattered throughout the mosque smiled at me. Strolling through the market in Sousse, one of the vendors said “nice added touch” in French. Boubacar stated that “I look like a real Tunisian.” I never really gave too much thought about the clothes that I wear and the way that people perceive me. I really just dress in a way that makes me happy and makes me comfortable. For me, when I buy clothes from my ancestors, like my blue scarf from the Ivory Coast, the voice in my heart tells me to “Wrap myself in the love of my ancestors” during finals season. It is hard to vocalize to other people why I choose to wear the things that I do because it is too much to explain.

While in the mosque today, one of the gentlemen adjusted my checia. As I bowed my head, shifted my hat, rotated it and fluffed it up. I felt like I was honored to wear this hat because he was able to adjust it for me in a way that he probably had seen it worn for generations within his family. Now, I look Tunisian ? He fixed it for me in the way that the man from Ivory Coast who gave me my scarf draped it around my neck. Now, I look like I am from the Ivory Coast? The man in the Great Mosque of Kairouan adjusted my chechia with the same care as the Senegalese man in African Market Place in Harlem placed the kufi on my head. Now, I look like I am from Senegal? People throughout the trip have been asking me in jest “Luke, how many coats did you pack?” I am not a budding fashion icon or anything to that similar vein. I have a sense of happiness when I experience the holiness in the simplicity around me. This entire trip has felt quite spiritual to me. There is a spirituality to the clothes that we wear, the food that we eat, the media that we interact with, and the people that we speak to. I rarely get a chance to commune around food with people of similar interests. Even the simple act of commuting with a group of individuals to travel from place to place is something that I rarely do because of the nature of my movement in New York City.

While in the Medina of Sousse, I kept looking for traditional Tunisian clothes that men wear. For some strange reason, I could not find the clothes that I was looking for. Towards the exterior, there was a plethora of modern clothes that looked similar to New York City streetwear. As I pushed deeper and deeper into the Media, closer toward the interior, turning corners upon corner, I began to see less tourists, and more locals. I found a location where there were better bargains, more traditional garments, smaller niche shops, less traffic and chaos, and items that Tunisians would actually use in their home. There was even a quietness to the tone of the vendors. There was a stillness to way the items being sold were staged for viewing.

On the ride back to the Carlton Hotel, I thought about how it is important for us to dig deeper. It is crucial that we must continually push ourselves outside of our comfort zones. Imagine if I stayed within Le Petit Senegal and had not pressed forward towards the gateway of Africa, also known as Tunisia. I am a believer in that every single moment in life will prepare you for something greater. In other words, there is a lesson that can be learned in every single moment (whether bad or good). We must keep pushing closer into the interior of our thoughts and actions and become one with them. Once we get to the interior of our minds, there is a meditation that can occur.

like a still quietness

like slowly removing your traveled shoes

like washing your hands

like splashing a refreshing cold water on your face

and

entering into your sacred place

wherever that may be

listening to the voice of God

speaking back

with prayers

conversation

from your heart