One year ago, I led a small group of nonprofit professionals to Tunisia to learn about the local NGO sector. The epicenter of the Arab Spring in 2011, Tunis at the beginning of 2016 was still feeling occasional rumbles of political instability. Widely publicized attacks on tourists at the Bardo Museum and at a beach resort in Sousse made waves through the international community, and it was with some trepidation that my group of American experts in women’s rights and disability rights traveled to Tunisia’s capital.

Tunis, we learned when we arrived, is really comprised of several historical cities that lie adjacent to one another. The medieval walled city, called the medina, was the heart of Tunis for hundreds of years. Its narrow, winding streets lead in circuitous routes in which travelers can easily lose themselves for hours. During the day, the medina is vibrant and full of life. At night, the medina is eerily silent. In this photo, taken in the late afternoon, the side streets of the medina are already starting to empty of passers-by.

Just prior to our visit at the beginning of 2016, the city of Tunis was under a curfew from sundown to sunrise due to political unrest. Though the curfew was officially lifted the day before our arrival, the habit of not being out late clearly still held among the local population. On our first night in the city, my group walked quickly through the narrow streets with guides who held lanterns and doubled as bodyguards to accompany us through the medina after dark. Though the walk was stressful, it ended with our arrival at a beautiful traditional Tunisian home where we had a lavish welcome dinner hosted by a local partner NGO. Hospitality is a major part of Tunisian culture, and our local hosts provided an incredible feast in a beautiful setting completely at odds with the tense environment outside.

Many of the traditional houses of the medina, like the one above, are beautifully decorated indoors in a way that one would never expect based on the drab outer walls seen from the street. The elites of medieval Tunis spared no expense in incorporating intricate tile and stucco work in the central courtyards of their homes. As fortunes changed over the course of colonial rule and modernization, many of the old houses became too difficult for their owners to keep simply as homes. Many were converted into restaurants like the one where we had our welcome dinner, or into guesthouses for international travelers. The historic house pictured above is now a museum of Tunisian art and architecture and the seat of the Association for the Safeguard of the Medina—an organization trying to preserve Tunisia’s unique architectural heritage for future generations.

Outside of the medina, in the adjacent French Colonial part of the city, the streets still held some life after dark. Families and couples strolled along the wide, tree-lined boulevard modeled on the Champs-Elysées or enjoyed snacks and non-alcoholic drinks in the many cafes. Alcohol is seen as a foreign luxury/vice, and is typically expensive and can be difficult to find. Our group of Americans found one of the few bars serving alcohol on the roof of a nearby hotel with a view of the opera house.  Like other historic buildings, the façade of opera house was lit to showcase the beauty of its Art Deco architecture. But appearances can be deceiving; the beautiful opera house was closed indefinitely for renovations. Just down the street from this seemingly idyllic picture, foreign embassies were guarded with tanks and barbed wire.

Just to the north of Tunis, a world away in atmosphere from both the medina and the French Colonial quarter lies an older history, a history of which many Tunisians are extremely proud.  The massive ruins of ancient Carthage, a city that was once a major political, military, and economic force in the Mediterranean, shows that Tunis was once one of the most important places in the world. Ruins of a massive ancient bathhouse and amphitheater speak to a thriving ancient civilization which many locals see as the direct antecedent to their own. As foreigners in Tunis, we were told by everyone we met that we must absolutely see Carthage, that we would not understand Tunis today if we did not understand its ancient past. With all of the uncertainties facing Tunisia in the present, the ruins of Carthage are an anchor to a time when Tunis was one of the greatest cities in the ancient world.

During our visit, the future of Tunisia seemed uncertain. The nonprofit leaders that we met with spoke of the difficulties of creating a truly representative government, providing services for marginalized communities, addressing youth unemployment, dealing with influxes of refugees from neighboring Libya…the list of challenges was long. Despite these challenges, however, our group was warmly welcomed wherever we went throughout the city. The trepidation that we felt at the beginning of our trip was unfounded, and as a group of Americans, we never once felt truly unsafe. The empty streets of the medina after dark and the barbed wire around the embassies were only tiny blemishes in an otherwise beautiful place.  In every part of the city, at every meeting with local nonprofit leaders, our group found incredible warmth and hospitality, and a very profound sense of hope.

Laura Carroll ’06 works in international development in Washington, DC. She writes and travels as often as she can possibly manage.

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