18. Memories of Tunisia – Ramadan

This is a continuation of a series of posts which starts here.  Today, 27 May 2017, is the start of Ramadan, and reading tweets about it made me reflect on my experiences of Ramadan in Muslim country. I remember the excitement in the air, the sense that it was a special month. It reminded me of…

17. Solitude, part two

This post is the seventeenth and final in a series which starts HERE. (December 1998) Every morning I strap my baby to my chest and walk around Sousse. Being winter, many of the Casanova types that cause me so much hassle are not around. I walk to the market to buy fresh vegetables and fish and find that having a…

16. Solitude, part one

This post is the sixteenth and penultimate in a series which starts HERE. (December 1998) When I pass out in the treatment room, with my baby strapped to my front, the pharmacist catches me before I hit the ground. I am not a regular fainter; this is the only time I’ve been unconscious in my life. It’s the…

15. Losing it

 This post is the fifteenth in a series which starts HERE. (August 1998) ‘Hey lady! You wanna make a fuck with me?’ I ignore the moronic young lad and his giggling friends and continue on my way in the sweltering heat. My bump is heavy and I feel weary to the bone. Samir is in prison, I’m managing…

14. Anxiety

This post is the fourteenth in a series which starts HERE. (October 2014) Sousse in the dark is a nightmare. Although I lived there from 1997-99, my memories are hazy and now there is a new one-way system in place, as well as much development. The traffic chaos is the same; crazy lane changing, laden mopeds weaving through…

13. Tri-lingual birthday cakes

This post is the thirteenth in a series which starts HERE. (October 2014) After the visit to show my daughter her father’s gravestone (link to that post), we return to find the house filling with relatives and neighbours who want to celebrate my daughter’s sixteenth birthday and welcome her to their village. In addition to various men and…

12. The day I skinned a rabbit

This post is the twelfth in a series which starts HERE. (August 1997) Samir’s father motions for me to follow him into the garden. He goes to a ramshackle shed full of white rabbits and grabs one by the ears. I notice he has a knife in his other hand. One of Samir’s sisters joins us and I…