Left: with Anna at Kairouan, photo by Badie Farrah
We travel south toward seaside Sousse, a tourist Mecca, but that is not our destination. Between the fields, stands of prickly pear serve as fences. The dusty heat smells like ripe olives.
As we pass, a few scraggy animals stand beneath the shade of twig-roofed shelters. A man walks behind a horse-drawn plough; a shepherd rests on a hay bale.
At Kairouan, Adil waits with the car in the shade while we go into the Medina, much quieter than that in Tunis. With Badie translating, I ask the young merchant for something typical of the region, as a gift for my daughter.
He shows me a hand-made Tuareg necklace, then whips out a lighter and holds the black beads to its flame, so I will understand they are not plastic. I have not enough dinar for the agreed price and he graciously agrees to accept part in Canadian dollars, though they are new to him. He remarks on how colourful the Canadian currency is.
We come to El Jem in the late afternoon and wander around the huge structure, exploring the enclosures where the lions and gladiators were kept before being loosed into the Roman arena. In this amazingly complete Coliseum, one of the best-preserved in the world, the Vienna Symphony will play tonight. But we must return to Tunis, to the conference.
As the sun rides low, we stop at a roadside place of Adil's recommendation. We sit at outdoor tables with truckers and other local people and devour smoky barbecued lamb and hot red peppers drizzled with olive oil.
We three chip in to treat Adil to dinner and then return to the car, ride like old friends into Tunis in the early evening. The Holy Book rests again on the shelf behind the back seat.
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