“Too bad you’re not a man,” says a young Frenchman to me in English. In Tunisia.
I am still in Tunisia. The Scirocco has spread across the Mediterranean, so we have to be patient with our start. Traveling by sailboat is roughly comparable to traveling by ‘Deutsche Bahn’ (German railway): that is the departure time. But it doesn’t have to. There may be delays. Partly indefinitely. Or failures. Even then it didn’t really bother me to wait. So now: the storm-like desert wind is a barrier to us. Our departure is delayed. Well. So I have time to take a closer look at Tunisia. Rather said, the Tunisian village I am in. At this point, I would like to explicitly mention that it is only a village and that these experiences cannot be deduced from an entire country. In the neighboring town it is quite different. There are also exceptions in this village that I am currently in that do not appear in this story.
Even when I was there for the first time, I sometimes felt out of place. And now too. Either I am ignored by men, or totally stared at. There is nothing in between. Of course I know about the cultural differences. Of course it is clear to me that I totally stand out with my European appearance. But after all, I’m only human. Yes. A female exemplar. Yes. Yes, that’s exactly the point.
The young Frenchman sits at the table with male locals and invites me to sit down. We talk. The locals are silent. And leave after a short time. I feel like I’ve crashed a party. “Too bad that you are not a man,” says the Frenchman in English. “You don’t notice anything here.” And already he tells me about being together.Sharing food. Having tea together after work. Be integrated when using a few Arabic words. And about the life of the Tunisians. Yes. Funny. I really haven’t noticed that yet. Bored of spending the evening in the same place, the young man takes me to the town center. He adapted parts of the Tunisian lifestyle, even if only for a short time. That means: go to the café, end the day and drink tea. All right then. Here we go. Off to the café. He turns on the doorstep and says: “This is not a good idea!”. I take a quick look. The television is on. Soccer. The whole café is full. With men. We look at each other and decide to take a seat on the veranda. The hot drinks are brought. We are more amazed than the men who pass us. Our astonishment is based on the fact that a visit to a café means so much more than just drinking tea. It is like a parallel universe in which we are now. Colleagues sneak past ignoring. Some men go in and out every minute because they can’t believe their eyes. Surprised looks. Disparaging looks. Looks. As if it’s a huge statement, just because I’m just there. We wonder if I am the only woman in the street in this whole village. In the middle of the night. I got used to the situation, but my companion reminds me again: a strange fact that there is a woman sitting in front of the café. Oh wait. The woman is me. I don’t mind being alone among men. But it feels different here. The next evening we sit down in the café. Not just because it’s very cool outside. But also because there is no sign in front of it, in the sense of “dogs have to stay outside”. And because there is a feeling that what is set may be a statement. Drink through peaceful tea, make someone rethink. That would be something. A table is provided for us inside. We order the same thing as yesterday. And also the look is reminiscent of yesterday. The café is tiled with blue and white tiles. Beautiful playful patterns. Columns in the room support the high ceiling. The television runs at a volume that leads to sudden hearing loss: football. Some men watch the game, are on their own and smoke. Others play cards and smoke. Others are talking loudly and smoke. This noise level, which prevails in such common rooms, even at lunchtime at the snack bar, is always at least 5 vol. louder than in Europe. The smoke of the cigarettes is omnipresent here, no matter where and when. And now the cigarette smoke is fogging the room. All chairs are occupied. The men wear dark clothes. Most of the time they sit in black jackets. There is only one yellow dot in the café. It is probably not enough that I stand out just because I am a woman. Then there is the squeaky-yellow jacket. A splash of color that doesn’t belong there. In any case, the unwritten law says: “accepted but not wanted”. Time passes humorously and again in a kind of parallel universe. And so I learn about the tea drinking culture, which is very fashionable among young people. What else should you do besides waiting and drinking tea? Apparently the chances are blocked here. Or the Scirocco is at work.
In any case, our wait is now over. It is January 22nd, 2020. Today we set sail. Start: 2pm. First stopover: Mallorca. We are on the boat. The authorities have our passports. We have to stay on the boat. I know the procedure from last time. Now it is only a matter of getting the boat a permit. I didn’t know that from last time. We think “time for tea”. We already have the exit stamp in the passport. I’m sure it’ll work. But then: great unrest. Everyone gathers in the agency’s office. All. Except the woman who is responsible for organizing the boats. Here we are again on the subject. At the moment I am writing this, I do not know what the current situation is. It is inconvenient to take off today because the darkness is already falling. Yes. Let’s just see what happens. Then I’ll make myself some tea.
