Mosque of the Barber
PA system to announce the call to prayer.
The Grand Mosque of Kairouan.
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One fine Saturday I woke up at 4am and walked down the hill my house was perched on about 2 kilometers to the long-distance shared taxi station for the north and west of the country. I met my friend Francesca there. She’s from Oxford and speaks with a proper Oxford BBC accent. She majored in French Literature and is wrapping up a year worth of teaching English in Tunisia. As always, she was outfitted with a pink shirt and some Capri pants — this particular day in a military theme.
We found a shared taxi (louage) heading for Le Kef and hopped in. About three hours later we arrived in Le Kef (“the rock” in Arabic) about 40 kilometers from the Algerian border. We then found another louage heading for Tajarouine about 70 km farther south along the border. In this town we saw some really cool storks’ nests on top of the main mosque’s minaret. I took a couple of photos. Francesca got some coffee while I secured seats in the next louage. We had to wait for a while before the van filled up. The farther out into the countryside you get the longer you have to wait for transport. Our next destination was Khallat en Seina about 10 km from the Algerian border
Our first view of our final destination from Tajarouine.
In Khallat en Seina we walked up to the National Guard office to register our passports. This close to the border and in this small of a town such things are required – especially for what we were there to do. The first guy we talked to in the office spoke very good French. Francesca communicated with him. He took us to another office down the street where we waited about 10 minutes for his superior to come. This guy spoke almost no French but a lot of English. Very strange! He asked us if we had come with a tourist company. We told him no. He said to wait for a minute. He called up a friend of his who lives in a village about 10 km away who happened to be in town with his little put-put pickup truck. It was about a 1960 Renault pickup. Francesca, I, and the driver all piled in and we were off to his village. It was decided by the National Guard we’d pay 5 dinars for his services. At the village he found the site guardian for the site of our objective. This guy spoke no French and only a very heavily dialected Arabic that was more close to Algerian Arabic than Tunisian.
We came to this little village (Ain Senna, the well of senna) in the middle of nowhere on the Algerian frontier to climb a mountain called Jugurta’s Table, the last fortress of the Numidian king Jugurta in his long battle with the Romans. The mountain resembles a mesa with a large flat top and several hundred feet of sheer cliffs on all sides. There is only one approach to the mountain and only one way up – now guarded by a Byzantine era fortified gate. All around the base of the table there are rings of stone outlining former buildings from the Roman siege of the table and the later occupation by both Roman and Byzantine forces. There is still some evidence of a Roman road leading to the foot of the mountain.
We climbed up the steep steps cut into the living rock well worn with age. On top a tilted world unfolded. About one third of the top was covered with ruins of Numidian, Roman, Byzantine, and more recent construction. In the middle of it all there was a Marabout, the resting place for a holy man in the Sufist branch of Islam. We walked through the ruins to the Marabout. The guardian led us inside and showed us the tombs of two separate holy men that were arranged side by side. Nowhere else in Tunisia will they let non-Muslims inside a Marabout or mosque for that matter. He showed us where he sleeps every night to one side of the tombs. On special occasions the whole village comes up to have a feast and festival honoring their holy men.
Roman ruins on top of the table.
The marabout.
Our guide and Francesca walking off across the table.
From the Marabout we walked toward the west to observe some interesting rectangular cisterns cut in the rock. They were leftovers from the Numidians and the Roman siege of the mountain. There is no naturally occuring source of water on this rock. Farther along we came to the edge of the mountain. It was about a 250 meter sheer vertical drop. I got some good pictures peering over the edge. As we walked back toward the marabout we could see three people off in the distance on the other side of the mountaintop. We walked in that direction to see the other end of the mountain and to discover these three mysterious peoples identity. At the highest and most easterly jutting protrusion of the mountain we met three german tourists on holiday that randomly were on top of the mountain. Francesca spoke to them in French and I translated into Arabic for the site guard. He said it was the first time two groups of visitors were on the top at the same time in a very long time.
Numidian cisterns. It appears originally they were covered.
Looking toward Algeria.
Francesca with some wild mint.
Looking across the table toward the east.
It’s a very long way down. This would be a good place for base jumping or hang gliding.
The ruins of another Marabout. The site guardian explained to us that the holy man who had been entombed here was moved to the other Marabout. Generally, one holy man to every Marabout, but in this case, you get two for the price of one! Notice the Roman column incorporated into the structure.
Looking to the east.
We meet the German tourists.
The Marabout in the distance.
Before we went down off the mountain we examined a series of man-made caves near the stairs. It appeared that they were originally carved in pre-Numidian times to be used as funerary chambers then later reused during the siege to store grain and finally reused again during the Roman and Byzantine times as a necropolis of sorts. Now they’re being used for nothing. The guardian said that they extend throughout the entire mountain. I went a few feet into one and couldn’t see the end of it. A bit spooky!
The gate to Jugurta’s Table.
Looking up at the mountain.
Down at the base of the mountain we met up with the driver of the little pickup. He invited us to his place (in Arabic, as he barely spoke French) to have some lunch with his family. We all trucked on over to his house and sat down in his living room to have a meal of fresh honey comb, home made butter, and freshly picked apricots. It was all delicious. The eldest daughter, which actually wasn’t his daughter but a niece or a friend’s daughter spoke very good French. The family situation wasn’t exactly clear as there was a wife, two men, an old woman, a daughter at about 18, a son at about 12, and a son and daughter at around 5 plus another son in Tunis working. We feasted on this hearty lunch, talked with the family and looked at each others photo albums, then finally took our leave. On the way out they showed us their extensive bee hives and apricot tree. The cow was down the street.
Francesca feasting on Honey, Butter, and Apricots while watching the latest hits out of Lebanon on the Lebanese version of MTV.
The site guard, one of the children and Francesca.
The family, minus grandma.
The bee hives.
The apricot trees.
Back down in town we checked out with the National Guard, said our goodbyes to the put-put truck driver, and went down to the louage station. The two of us and two other people waiting in the louage decided to buy out the remaining seats (only an extra dinar or two a piece) so we could get into Tajaouine quicker.
In Tajaouine we found a louage headed for Kalaat Kasba. While we waited an either very drunk man or insane man came over and gave us each a piece of a half eaten donut. I left mine laying on a chair while Francesca ate up her bit. She’s a little odd like that at times. By this point I was also speaking in an oxford accent. We had to wait a bit for another louage to take us to Thala, a town about 50 km farther south. I guess that musical training comes in handy for some things.
Francesca eyes the road to Algeria.
On the ride down to Thala I sat next to a guy holding some tiles. It turns out he spoke some English. He was visiting a tile factory and had picked up the tiles for his shop down in Thala. In Thala he invited us into his shop, gave us free water and coke and helped us find the next louage to Kasserine, another 70 or so km farther south. He was very nice and was very happy to speak English with someone. He said we were the first English speaking people to come through in a very long time. Of course I had been in Thala only a few months before with Xiyun but I didn’t run into him then. Also back then it was snowing. This time it was threatening to rain from some major thunderstorms that were approaching.
The ride to Kasserine was uneventful. In Kasserine we found a louage headed to Gafsa but we were the only ones in it. We ended up having to wait about an hour to get enough people to be able to buy out the remaining empty seats. During that hour the heavens opened up and pounded us with an intense thunderstorm throwing bolts of lightning all around the louage station. One hit about 200 feet away from us at one point. It also poured rain.
Waiting inside the louage in Kasserine. Notice all of the religious things plastered to the inside of the vehicle to provide protection to the occupants. It seems to work. I survived many a louage trip in Tunisia none the worse for wear.
Standing under a tent in the storm with the louage driver waiting for some more passengers.
The last louage out of Kasserine.
On the way to Gafsa we encountered a major wreck on the highway. Most highways in Tunisia are a single lane in each direction with something of a stripe painted down the middle. This highway was no different. One of those little put-put trucks and a very large semi-truck hauling rock had a head-on. There wasn’t anything left of the cab of the put-put truck. At least three people and possibly more died instantly in that vehicle. The driver of the semi somehow survived and was being questioned by police as we passed. It happened about 30 minutes before we got there. There weren’t any bodies left to bury of the put-put driver and passengers. They’d have to bury the whole truck. One of the other passengers in the louage got out and found out some details. The put-put driver had been drunk and had his entire family with him. He swerved at the last second into the oncoming semi estimated to be going about 140kmph. There was nothing anyone could do.
In Gafsa we pulled into the Louage station and looked around for a louage to Tozeur, a town about 100 km farther south. None were to be had but there was a bus scheduled to stop in Gafsa in about 15 minutes that would go all the way to Nefta, our final destination. Some tootling around town and we finally found the location where the bus would pull up. While we waited Francesca ran across the street to a restaurant to get some sandwiches. We both were feeling a bit hungry.
The bus pulled up just as Francesca ran back across the street. We hopped on and were off to Nefta.
We finally arrived in Nefta at about 1030pm. It was very hot outside and a scaldingly hot and stinging sand filled wind was blowing from the northeast.
After some wandering in the Medina of Nefta we found the Hotel Habib (it means “Hotel of the Beloved”) and checked in. For the equivalent of about 5 USD per person we got a room with a shower and wash basin. The toilets were down the hall. The Hotel Habib was also the only bar in town. Luckily for us, it had already closed for the evening. The hotel staff was, however, fairly inebriated I pulled out my digital thermometer and checked the temperature on the window sill. It was 106 degrees and about 5% humidity! No wonder it felt hot! Mind you this is at 11pm! Total we had traveled across about 1/2 of the country in one day and logged somewhere around 500+ km.
The next morning we woke up at about 7am and hit the town. We saw the oasis and were led on a tour by a farmer whose plot we happened to tromp through. We gave him the equivalent of a dollar in tip for the tour. He showed us around for two hours. He was very happy that we spoke Arabic. Evidently not very many tourists come through this town.
The view from our hotel room.
“The Basket” of the oasis where the water source once was. Since the late 1960′s, the people of Nefta have been boring deeper and deeper wells to access the underground water more effectively. In the process, they managed to dry up all of the springs!
A beautiful daffodil we saw in the oasis. Anyone have any idea what variety this is? I’ve never seen it before.
After the tour we popped up into a neighborhood above the oasis and found a coffee house for Francesca’s daily cup of joe. From there we walked back to the louage station to catch a louage to Tozeur. The thing that really struck me about Nefta was how flirty all of the girls and women were there. They all initiated eye contact with me and then tittered to their girlfriends about it. I can assure you that nowhere else in Tunisia does this happen. It was rather refreshing.
On the way to Tozeur we got a message from Francesca’s work saying they needed her in Tunis early on Monday. To make sure she got there in time we hopped into another louage immediately in Tozeur to go back to Gafsa to find a louage to Tunis. In Gafsa we found our louage and had to wait about an hour before it filled up and took off. While we waited one of the guys that I had talked to on the bus the night before hopped in. He was on the way to Tunis too! We started talking in Arabic and soon the whole louage was talking to me in very fast heavy dialect Arabic that sounded more like Algerian than Tunisian. It seems I always end up either being associated with Algerians or mistaken for an Algerian! The trip back was nice talking to all of the guys in the louage. A couple of the guys got into a competition over Francesca as to who could give her better snacks and treats. It was pretty funny.
About half way to Tunis, outside Kairouan, we stopped for lunch at a roadside stand. We had a very spicy couscous. It was very good. I amazed the guys in the louage by eating two of the hottest peppers in existence in Tunisia without any problem and only in a couple of bites. I didn’t even sweat.
Lunch break.
The driver is sitting next to me.
Francesca and one of the other passengers.
We finally arrived in Tunis after about five hours on the road. It was about 6pm. Francesca headed back to her place and I headed to mine. It had been a very adventuresome weekend. 1000+ kilometers from the top of Tunisia to the edge of the Chott and the Great Sand Sea.
Tags: Byzantine Ruins, Chott Jerid, Francesca, Gafsa, Great Sand Sea, Hotel Habib, Jugurta's Table, Kairouan, Kalaat Khasba, Kasserine, Khallat en Seina, Le Kef, Marabout, Medina, Nefta, Numidian Ruins, Oasis, Roman Ruins, Tajarouine, Thala, Tozeur, Tunisia
As part of my internship at CEMAT (the Center for Maghrebi Studies at Tunis), I helped run the Fulbright Islamic Scholars Conference. I was lucky enough to accompany the group on a guided tour of Kairouan, the fourth holiest city in Islam, and one of my favorite cities in Tunisia. The tour was mostly done in Standard Arabic, I’m sure a surprising site for the majority of the Tunisians who saw us considering that most of us looked very European. We were definitely not your average tour group!
In addition to doing the normal sites, we also were allowed into the prayer hall and the minaret of the Grand Mosque of Kairouan and into the inner sanctum of the Tomb of the Barber of the Prophet. The best part of the whole day was the indignation an old Frenchman suffered when he was told he couldn’t go into the prayer hall as we wandered around inside. We probably were the first group of westerners in a very long time to be given such privileges.
Inside the prayer hall of the Grand Mosque.
One of the Islamic Scholars. His family is of Irish decent. Converting to Wahabist Islam was a recent occurrence in his life.
On top of the minaret at the Grand Mosque. We were lucky to be in between the call to prayer, otherwise we probably wouldn’t have any ear drums left. That’s Riadh, the CEMAT Assistant Director, behind the loudspeaker.
The courtyard. Used on days when there’s an overflow crowd. Note the way it gently slopes into the hole in the middle. The entire area underneath the courtyard is a massive cistern where rainwater collected from the courtyard and roof is stored. The water is used to wash the building.
Phil, one of the local scholar crowd, looking good in a head wrap. His partner was on a Fulbright grant to teach international health at one of the universities in Tunis.
The world’s largest couscous cooker at the Raqqada Islamic Art Museum outside Kairouan. It was designed to serve something like 5000 of President Bourguiba’s closest friends. Raqqada, aside from being the site of one of the earliest major Islamic settlements in Tunisia and the home to an unrivaled North African collection of early Islamic Art, is also home to one of President Bourguiba’s country houses. Current president Ben Ali has no use for such houses. He has palaces.
At the Mosque of the Barber of the Prophet.
The Barber rests here.
One of the Islamic Scholars praying. She is of Arab decent.
A letter from the Prophet to the Barber. Well, rather, a photocopy of the letter.
The Aghlabid Basins in Kairouan.
The camel walks around in a circle. It’s attached to a system of cogs, gears, pulleys and belts. One turn of the camel brings up about three liters of water from an underground cistern or well. The setup used to be used to supply the local mosque with water for washing but now is used to show tourists a camel walking around in a circle.
Some of the group wandering around outside the camel well.
The Mosque of the Three Doors.
The Kairouan electric distribution grid.
Artichokes anyone?
Outside the walls of Kairouan on the way back to the bus.
Tags: Aghlabid Basins, Ben Ali, Bourguiba, CEMAT, Grand Mosque, Islamic Scholars Conference, Kairouan, Largest Couscous Cooker, Mosque of the Barber, Mosque of the Three Doors, Phil, Raqqada, Riadh, Tunisia
We first visited Kairouan back before Ramadan. We didn’t have enough time during our last visit to check out the grand mosque. As we happened to be driving through, we decided to stop and take a peak.
Tags: Grand Mosque, Kairouan, Mosque of Uqba, Tunisia
Of all the sites seen during our trip, the most interesting was of Anne falling down a hole at the Water Temple. There have been recent excavations at the site for what appears to be a new water collection scheme installed by the local branch of the water company. Anne chose to climb into one of these holes. It’s a good thing she didn’t choose one with water at the bottom!
The temple itself is surprisingly intact for its age and its proximity to the wetness of the spring for which it was built. As is custom at many such Roman temples, I poured a bit of water on the old alter at the head of the temple. Since the water company has stopped up all places to get water from the spring, I wasn’t able to drink from its cool bubbly depths. Maybe next time.
Whoever built the temple had an interesting design for the structure. It appears that the outer reaches of the building had a tight domed ceiling. The innermost part of the temple was open, most likely with a much larger dome over it. All that remains are a few bits and pieces of the outermost ceiling.
Approaching the fortified Berber village atop a steep hill, I was impressed with the placement of the structure. Though the ground could not be tilled and only cactus will grow on the flanks of the hill, the position is certainly sublime. It makes me wonder if the Berbers didn’t always live in such nice places even before the Arab invasions. There will always be a cool breeze in the summer, anyone approaching can be seen miles away, and all of the cropland can be surveyed from above in a few minutes. Plus, think of the great workout that the people who live there get!
The style and construction of the houses and buildings reminded me of the pueblo dwellings of the American Southwest. They have a striking resemblance to the pueblos on the Hopi mesas in Arizona. Even the blue windows are similar. The cafe at the top, while overpriced, was truly wonderful. It was so peaceful that I felt like staying three days. Even with the immense cement plant in the distance, the place was serene and tranquil. The museum was even pretty good!
Unfortunately our trip to Kairouan didn’t cover all the sites of the city. We never got all the way to the Great Mosque. Instead, we saw the old water storage system built by the first Arab settlers, the mosque of Sidi Sahab, the carpet museum, and a small chunk of the medina.
The water system was very interesting; especially with some of the background reading I did prior to my trip to Tunisia. Evidently, there were as many as 14 of the larger pools and many smaller settling ponds for water coming from an aqueduct that extended quite a distance from the nearest springs. It also appears that surface runoff from a large area was captured and stored in the same system. The original builders though that the proximity of the storage tanks to the city would help cool the city in the summer. In the center of one of the tanks there was a small island of stone setup to allow the rulers to recline amid the water. Unfortunately for the townspeople, the water storage system was a constant source of mosquitoes and malaria. Also, there were probably many frogs and fish which, no doubt, some locals took advantage of. The difference between the old and the new water systems is nonexistent save for slight chlorination. The new waterworks aren’t but a stone’s throw away from the old.
At the Mosque of Sidi Sahab we got our first real taste of Islam in Tunisia. Sidi Sahab was one of the companions of the prophet. He is often called the prophet’s barber as he always carried three pieces of the prophet’s beard with him at all times – one hair under his tongue, one on his right arm, and one next to his heart. The mosaic work, cedar ceilings, and egg stucco work was very reminiscent of Moroccan Mosques and tombs. The only difference is in the quality of craftsmanship. I still believe Moroccans to be superior craftsmen in the arts of mosaic, egg stucco, and cedar ceilings. I suppose one country can’t be the best in everything though! Tunisia certainly has the market cornered on the most westernized society.
The rug museum was but a speed bump on Giovanna’s primary goal of the trip, shopping! It was good though that we went to the rug museum. We got to see all of the different styles, many very old rugs, the looms with which they weave handmade rugs, and many other interesting things. It appears to be an underutilized resource of the tourism industry in Tunisia.
At the souk, the prices were truly outrageous. Maybe it was the way Giovanna and I were dressed or maybe we just looked rich, because prices were jacked up way beyond what they normally should be. In fact, we didn’t buy anything! I had a good time playing Giovanna’s “husband” while shopping. It also was a good thing I accompanied her as she almost got run over five different times by different mopeds and scooter bikes. The people of Kairouan aren’t quite as nice in the souk as they are in Tunis. Maybe this is a result of so many tour busses disgorging into the souks and the great white whales having more time than money. Either way, I’ll be shopping in the medina in Tunis with Giovanna in the near future.
All in all, it was a good trip with lots of interesting sites.
Tags: Berber Village, Kairouan, Tunisia, Water Temple, writing
The Aghlabid pools at Kairouan are a series of massive pools once dotted the land immediately north of Kairouan. They were built by the Aghlabids to provide a stable year-round source of water to the city and a rich breeding ground for malarial mosquitoes. Now only a few of the structures remain and have been restored. Saltwater intrusion from the coast has reached the basins, filling them with brackish water.
The Tunisian national flag waving in the breeze atop the visitor center for the Aghlabid basins.
Anne rides a cannon.
A portico at the Mosque of the Barber.
The tomb of the Prophet Mohammed’s barber. Here supposedly rests the man who kept three hairs from Mohammed’s beard with him throughout his life. In general, tourists are not allowed inside; only Tunisians and Muslims.
Laura explaining some aspects of the mosque complex to Jeff and Giovanna.
Intricate designs in the Mosque of the Barber.
Tags: Aghlabids, Anne, Carpet Shopping, Jeff, Kairouan, Laura, Mosque of the Barber, Tunisia
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