The Salute

It was after World War II when I decided to leave my town. I was fourteen years old at that time.

After 46 years of absence, a Tunisian guest from my town, who visited me in the United States invited me. He gave me the courage to visit my native town.  As I wrote in my first book: " Visiting my town after so many years would be like visiting a theater without actors."

A few months later, I decided to travel and to see for myself if my vision was correct. In fact I was very tired when I landed in Tunis. As I spoke Tunisian Arabic, I felt comfortable with the local people. I only stayed for three days. I visited my town for just a few hours and I could not find any of my friends. Every one of them emigrated, to France, to Italy, to Spain, and many others had chosen other horizons. My gracious host had driven me to my home town. I decided to leave my town for the capital where the main airport is located. It was already late, the sun was approaching the end of its journey above our town, then it was slowly setting behind the hill and leaving the horizon all colored in red.

I remembered my dad’s saying:
   "If the horizon is reddish in the evening put your horses on all the roads".
   "If the horizon is reddish in the morning tie your horses and relax"

Relying on these sayings, I could assume that the next day would be a nice and sunny day.

I asked my host to stop the car for a moment, I got out and said:
   "Heartfelt thanks to you, Holy Powers who afforded me the opportunity to see my native town."

Then our car climbed the hill with a heavy sigh, until we reached its top. There, I had the feeling that something was holding me back; a quiet sadness settled in my soul. The same feeling I had when my dad left us for good. Before starting to descend on the other side of the hill, I asked my host to stop again, as I wanted to give a last glance to my town, from this high point. From up there I could see on one side the silent scenery with its green plains and rolling hills, and on the other side, our town with its red roofs and its white terraces forming large steps, which looked to me like a giant painting. Then, in a blink of an eye there seemed to be a white sheet covering everything down to the foot of the hill. The church emerged like a sentinel with its sword broken from usage.

My first home seemed having lost its physical identity but its presence emerged from the depth of my memory. The remembrance of a faraway world invaded me and dipped me in a lively and pleasant feeling which passed through my entire body like a sweet electrical stream. I felt a pleasant and continuous shiver.

While I was observing the houses, I thought about the people whom these houses had sheltered for  generations. If the houses could talk, they would tell us the stories of each one of our grandparents and their friends. These thoughts came to me like a pleasant perfume, maybe to remind me about their lives with us before they passed away. Then, an entire world came to me. Faces of many people that I had not seen in a long time presented themselves to me, one after the other as if to say:

   "We know you" Event though I could not remember their names, they seemed very close to me, as if we were one family. I felt the duty to stay longer in that place, as I wanted to greet them humbly. One could only see the reflection of the sun which was already on the other side of the hill. I also watched this town with a lot of love and regret, since it had been the nest of our family and the cradle of our childhood.

These thousands of faces seemed to come out of these roofs like shining sparks continuously rising towards me. I bid a warm farewell to all the people who once lived in this adorable town, whichever their origins, their religions, and their names. They were the real players of this marvelous and peaceful town. They were the ones who animated our town, it was their education which made us who we are today. Their wisdom, their advice and their prayers are following us everywhere we are and they are protecting us even today with their magnanimous love. With their way of life and their example, they laid out the path which is still guiding us to the life of tomorrow and beyond.

From this high place I watched our humble and peaceful town and like in a live dream, I saw the parachutes of the first British company and of the first American contingent. As the day light started to diminish, I glanced with an eagle’s eye over this picturesque painting which was announcing the end of the day and I said:
   "Farewell to our teachers, farewell to our priests, to our rabbis, to our Muslim medebs, and especially to our parents." Then I continued:
   "You are the heroes, you instilled in us love, respect and tolerance towards our fellow human beings. You taught us welcoming and hospitality towards visitors and you anchored in us the courage and the audacity for our future duties."

From this place and with a solemn blink, I kissed and thanked all the women of our town, old and young, for the love they showered us with since our tender age, with simple words like, "God bless you my son" which came out instinctively from the mouth of every mother in town. They dedicated us to a simple, healthy and limpid life. They had played an important and determinant role in the formation of our character and our health. They knew how to teach us the respect for our fathers, for our elders and for our neighbors.

Our mothers were the ones who softened our juvenile impulses. Through their example they taught us  patience. When we went somewhere, they always used to tell us these words:
   "Be patient, listen to others" or “Be good to yourself." or “God bless you and give you calm, patience and serenity” and the word “Forgive"

Were we aware of those nice words: Calm, Patience, Serenity and Forgiveness? Aren’t these the words of wisdom? With their silence and their calm they in fact made us conscious of the latent power which is in us. They taught us to trust the next day and to constantly keep the hope alive. In fact they instilled in our hearts the faith and the duties of our daily work. What job everyone does is irrelevant, the most important is to do our work with love and conscience. If the salary is higher or lower has no bearing on our soul. The work itself is forging our sleeping spirit. For this, they used to say: “Work for a dollar and compare your fortune with the one’s who does not have a job”. 

With the delicious dishes they used to prepare for lunch or dinner, they knew how to initiate us, with a lot of care and kindness, to the taste of the food and to the values of life. They listened to us with a lot of patience, without interrupting us. Through this behavior they indirectly taught us the respect for women.  We look to our wives through the prism of our mothers. They taught us to forgive with the simple words: “Forgive him, my son”. Can we ever forget our grandmothers and all the elders who lived with the family? They also had their say, their contribution and their influence. Many times I saw how the grandmother took full responsibility for a kid’s action which did not please mom or dad. They intervened rarely, only when the order in the house seemed to be disturbed, making their intervention necessary. Sometimes they intervened to protect us from our parents, if they felt they made a bad judgment.

When we were sick the old women came to our house, sat down and prayed at our bedside until we recovered. After so many years I understand today that through their presence, their prayer, their love, and their silence, they helped us recover and strengthen our faith.

I prayed for all the inhabitants of our town, be they Christians, Muslims, Jews or the native inhabitants -  the Bedouins, who were part of our life and our activities. These Bedouins were simple, brave and innocent. They never quit the country despite all the conquerors who left some physical imprint in our town, but never succeeded converting them to their faith or nationality. Even the Arab conquerors did not succeed to convert them to Islam. To these Bedouins I addressed a particular message:

   "You are the faithful guardians of our lovely town and its suburbs. Neither the conquerors nor their religion could distract you from your duty. You resisted for centuries. Neither the rain nor the snow, nor the wind, nor the cold weather, nor the storm, nor the sun which burned your skin have prevented you from plowing our rich soil. From generation to generation you have transmitted to your descendants, your principles and your laws, which respect the human being. You deserve our respect and our admiration. Alas, among all  the governing bodies which passed in this area no one asked you for your opinion. You are here, always loyal to the land of our ancestors.”

I remained motionless for a moment, I paid tribute to all the children of Béja, wherever they are. The scent of my classroom and of the young innocent children, mixed with that of the streets, reached me from the center of Rebat and Sidi Frej. Then, these areas encompassed generations. These vivid memories still nourish my soul and my spirit with warmth and a sweetness of life that I feel from time to time through the years and across immeasurable distances. How many memories have remained isolated and scattered throughout the world as lost souls in darkness, but the rays of a bright light comes from afar to tell us: - "Forget me not, Ana Baji, Ana Bajia, ( I am from Beja, I am your brother, I am your sister)”  These feelings and memories are uniting together to create the beauty of my town and her children. The memories and the recollections it contains are our hidden treasures. This beauty also belongs to the childhood, which brings forth from within ourselves a flood of goodness, thrills our senses, softens us and makes our life enjoyable. It is truly our land which unites us and unveil us to ourselves and to the world. It is this town which is the source of our memories which brings us closer to our conscience and leads us to ourselves. Amen ! In the names of our fathers, I said in my heart: “God bless their souls”.

Only then I instructed my host to drive. He looked at my eyes, as if he saw something special, like the communion when we come out of the church or when we leave the synagogue, the mosque, or a holy temple. He asked me if I was ok, if I wanted to have a drink. In fact I felt like I just woke up from a deep dream which filled me with a new energy of love.
 

 Copyright Emile M. Tubiana 2009 all rights reserved.