Joy Swaks

I’ve recently revisited some photographs from my past travels and felt to write a fiction piece based on an actual event that took place a week after I left Sousse. I evidently, am a fortunate one to have left when I did and my heart still goes out to the lives lost & their relatives. My heart still loves Sousse & Tej Mahaba Hotel. 

The date was the 21June 2015 on a transfer coach to Sousse from Enfidha Airport Tunisia. I’d just arrived from London and I remember the feel of a chilly breeze that hit me, yet a nice warmth from the sun that burnt my arm off the window I’d been leaning against. A few more passengers came on and as I looked out to assimilate everything, a long haired, bearish, middle aged man walked by smiling at me. While returning the smile he sat down behind and greeted ‘hi my name is José’, from there we started talking about what had brought us to Tunisia, sharing to each other the places we’d travelled to before. I found out he was from Brazil and had been visiting London till he decided to book a flight to Tunisia. It also turned out we’d be staying in the same hotel while some of the other tourists would be dropped off nearby. 

As we continued to talk I turned back to the front of the coach hoping that the amount of passengers boarding would be no more. To my awkward nature this whole trip was a getaway of isolation and anti socialism. I had already planned I wasn’t on a mission to make friends especially at the thought of having to generate meaningless conversation with a stranger in hopes of passing time, but as I looked back, there it was, an anticipated nightmare I was about to endure for the whole 45 minutes.

It came as an elderly woman limping all the way down the coach to find a seat, she struggled hurriedly but showed no expression of discomfort in her limp ‘please don’t let it be mine- please don’t let it be mine’ I kept thinking while attempting to avoid eye contact. She had on the biggest smile muttering quietly what seemed like relief, she had to be English I thought myself which brought on some sort of irritation in me as the last thing I’d wanted was to spend a holiday in a foreign, exotic place with the infamous moaners known to mankind- The Great Brits! Turned out I was right because she turned to me and spoke, asking if it was my first time visiting Tunisia.

I look back today to that moment and the 45 minutes journey to the hotel, thanking God and the coincidences of the universe that woman stopped and sat next to me. Betty. 

Upon arrival we were welcomed with drinks and given keys to our hotel rooms, Tej Marhaba. Exquisite in reality as it appears in picture. I went in the elevator to the 5th floor where the door opened and I was led by signs to my room. A huge window displayed the most beautiful scenery I’d ever laid eyes on in my life. Bright blue sea water and golden sand glowing from the sun that contrasted against the clear skies, it looked amazing and I could not believe that moment was my reality, everything that had brought me there somehow vanished in a space of minutes so I sat there for a few minutes taking pictures. It was there and then that a revelation appeared to me, there are dreams we dream and there are dreams we make come true, choice. I knew this would be the beginning of a bigger travel I would take from there. 

I’ve never been sure when on holiday what the common thing to do upon arrival is but I decided the heated pool would be my first adventure. At the time Tunisia was in it’s winter, we’re talking 15° chill which might seem warm for even someone living in a country where summer doesn’t last a full three months, little was I aware their winter really meant ‘dress up warm winter’. It wasn’t until day 4 of my 7 in Tunisia that I really got to experience the north African sun. Thomas Cook partnered with the hotel on hosting short excursions to the Sahara desert which was personally recommended by my elderly friend Betty. Before I tell of the exciting stories of my experience in the Sahara, I want to tell you a little bit about Betty, it was fascinating to me how most people at the hotel came in small groups or families, as much as I stood out “the dark skinned girl who could be Tunisian” only, the braids in my hair and attitude of a foreigner gave away the reality. Betty was a blessing in disguise. I wasn’t the only solo traveller but I was the youngest and you could count the few others by one hand. As much as I had assumed anti socialism would be good for me I learned otherwise and before it could happen, Betty saved me from lone moments in the dining area where our half board buffet was available every morning and night. The thought of sitting there alone at a table in front of many groups would have been daunting instead she proudly introduced me to the others as her ‘young friend’. I learned as time went by that she’d lost her husband, she spoke very openly about her life so I took it upon myself to ask how she’d been able to live without him. ‘John and I loved to travel, we promised one another we’d cover half of the world before we turned 90 and he’d always used to tease me saying ‘come on you old hag, time doesn’t sleep you know!’ ‘Meaning there was was a lot to live for darling and time waits for no one’, she said. Tej Marhaba was a place she frequently visited in the year which made her quite well known there and knowledgeable of the place that she kept offering to show me but as ignorant as the youth are, I politely declined knowing I needed to explore the town at my own pace for my own needed peace. I looked at her, full concentration and unable to comprehend why this poor old adorable woman would have all the time on her holiday to entertain a sad soul like myself and I believe she noticed, she must’ve seen something in me that nobody else saw but I didn’t see Betty for two days since then.

Those going on the excursion met at 9 am in the foyer of the hotel, we had breakfast and the place seemed to have an aspect of reticent status in comparison to its day time state. I remember partnering up with Ian another Brit who’d gone out to Tunisia on his own, he was so gentle but extremely tall in stature and had the most daring green eyes. ‘How do you deal with her?’ he asked referring to Betty. It had become noticeable the bond she and I had formed, one thing I’ve acknowledged with the elderly is their “full of life” approach to everything especially in their years of retirement, a time when society says they’ve become less fitting towards work ethic requirements. So now imagine an old woman in her 70s walking into a room at breakfast time bursting out hand waves to everybody, ‘cuhoo! Good morning Youseff’ she’d call out to her usual waiter meanwhile the youth (myself included) sat around the table half asleep still moaning about the discomfort in the mattresses.

‘Old people give me life and answers to confusion I struggle with, there’s a nurture and kindness that comes from them, an understanding and spirit of compassion which is a quality that most of our peers today lack.’ I replied to him. 

We talked, laughed and admired the places we passed.

I woke up aware the coach had made a stop and I couldn’t help but feel pleased that I’d come on the trip. We visited a Roman Amphitheatre in El Djem with unending staircases of stone blocks, hearing about the history of it all. The locals of course were in business mode, trying their luck on us tourists with compliments and anything to lure us into buying something, somehow familiarity kicked in at that moment that I’m in Africa for memories of my childhood in South Africa came flooding back. 

For a good 5 hours we carried on our journey stopping at all these national treasures that Tunisians take pride in such as Matmata where I believe Startrek was shot. We met the locals- Berbers who live in cave houses and make home made bread that tasted amazing  but my favourite had to be the Oasis stop in Gabes where long palm trees led us into tranquillity of peace and exotic nature. It was stunning, olive trees everywhere and the sweetest dates we got to taste. Our last stop of course was the long awaited Sahara Desert where we rode camels that transported us within the golden brown escapism of the Sahara, exactly how the brochures show it in pictures. In that motion as I grasped everything in, feeling the African sun kiss my skin, I thought about my life.  I thought about myself as a child to the woman I’d become. I thought about my experiences and the struggles I had endured that pushed me to shut my eyes and pick a country I’d run away to till my brokenness healed, literally eyes shut. Life is a journey of trips we have a choice to take and in mine, decisions made weren’t quite the wisest. 

Ian & myself

Travelling back to the hotel the following day felt a relief because it wasn’t the most comfortable of nights we spent, if only caution had been given that the very hot Sahara days turn into extremely cool nights, more cooler in the winter. We arrived before sunset and the very first thing we noticed was chaos. We found out that there had been a shooting on the beach of the hotel, everything was so chaotic! People filled up the reception area and police went in and out. Ian and I had remained together since we’d left the excursion departure point so within all the confusion we looked for an interpreter who could explain properly what was going on. ‘People were lounging around the beach until gunshots were heard and it’s been confirmed that a man attacked them, only next door to us, only next door madam, Imperial Marhaba! We too could’ve been dead!’ he cried out. Shaking in disbelief from the revelation, how could it have happened when not long ago we were just there enjoying a normal, peaceful holiday. How was it even real, this is something one’s heard of on the news but nothing you’d be prepared for personally. I began to look around seeing families huddled up together, comforting one another, a few still in their swim wear clearly still shook off the incident then immediately my focus shifted. Betty! Concerned about where she was I looked around the people intensely, hoping I could spot her but she was nowhere to be seen so the worst thought crossed my mind but determined to find her I wasted no time entertaining the thought and I had to find someone at the reception desk who could help me, then I ran into José instead who had been sitting with a few familiar faces I’d come to know during the stay, ‘have you seen Betty anywhere’ I asked, ‘Joy! Betty left a day ago, to England’ José replied. My nerves slowed down instantaneously and it took images of the 30 British victims being shown in a newspaper headline to remind me of the relief I felt on that day ‘Terror attack Tunisia’. I’ve learnt from this that life truly is unpredictable, although I went on this holiday with personal intentions, never did I imagine something so scary and tragic would take place especially with innocent lives affected. Those people could’ve been wives or children returning back to their loved ones awaiting them, lives with a full potential of becoming future presidents and leaders of the world but lives which were cut short. I’ve not seen nor heard from Betty since two days before I left for the excursion and although I know she wasn’t affected, there was a sadness in me that I never got to thank her or spend enough time with her but maybe that’s how life is supposed to go sometimes, there are people you’re only meant to know for a while who are there to plant a seed and have some sort of impact but for a limited time only.

It’s been years on since the terrible incident, one I’ll never forget. Sitting here in bed counting my days but not afraid of what’s ahead of me for I have lived enough to be satisfied. I never kept in touch with José or Ian or the other people I came across in Tunisia 

Port el Kantaoui