Tuna and Tunisia

I have just enough time on my hands, between traveling around on mini-buses, Steve the camel, and hanging out at the beach, to write you a quick hi. The hi-lights: reading on the beach, assistance from Chanda on actually working on my last paper of law school, Matmata (starwars) a hamam (see below), camel ride into the Sahara (where I thought only crazy tourists go, but I was wrong: apparently our guide enjoys the peace of extreme heat, wind, sand, and creative insects)

Hope everyone is doing well I will be back in Ottawa by next Monday.

replies appreciated,
Tim
P.S. I can't stop these tiny ants from coming out of my computer...gaaaah
PPS Are people still going to use their UOttawa accounts? I don't know if they expire or not, but I am full time on mitbrown@gmail.com or tim@tcbco.ca

Matmata:

I write this email from an underground hotel in Matmata, Tunisia. Starwars was filmed here and Luke Skywalker had his last meal with his Aunt and Uncle on a planet named after the town just down the road (Tatooine).

I love the story and myth behind Starwars and it is surreal to come to the desert that Luke and Annakin grew up in and wanted to escape. So far I don’t want to escape but we shall see. There are lots of pictures stuck in Chanda's camera and I look forward to posting them at www.timcampionbrown.com what a convenient web address!

Chanda and I are quite the traveling team: negotiating with taxis, louages (minibuses), and salespeople (almost exclusively men). I return to Canada on May 31 and Chanda follows after on June 13^th or 14^th.

So I am almost finished law school at the U of O just one last paper. It is about corporate social responsibility and the roles that corporations play in the human rights standard setting and regulation process. If that sounds vague, it is because I am still working on the focus. Hopefully, by the time I send this email the focus will be clear in my head.

Tunisia has been a surprising blast. I had heard a lot of things about how much Chanda was harassed by the men on the street. Last night, we realized that perhaps they are just in an arrested adolescence: constantly hanging out with their buddies, avoiding the kids, while the girls (their wives) are doing their own things. With me around the harassment has slowed to a drip and the only times we are yelled at are when we walk through touristy markets.

We had a good time by the coast and drank lots more “café directs” (espresso with milky foam). I have had enough of beaches at least until I can find an English book.

_____

Hamam:

And of course the question on everyone’s mind is “how was the Hamam?” Hamam, you ask? A hamam is apparently like a Turkish bath although I didn’t find that description helpful either. Basically, it is heated steam room, where you scrape skin off of your self as you sweat and then you throw water buckets on top of your head. It is a little frightening seeing how much skin comes off. Chanda says that the amount of skin coming off shows how dirty we are. I personally think that the skin belongs on my body.

But the piece de resistance is the massage. I love massages and I indulged in them in Thailand, where I found the traditional Thai massage quite harsh, with the massager using feet and their whole body to stretch and manipulate. But, the Hamam massage was way more intense. The massager appeared to be ex-navy (complete with fading anchor tattoo) and had about three teeth. Our communication was a bit rough, so he relied on leading me by the hand and in kicking my hands into the correct locations. I lay directly on the wet tiles and the first thing he did was massage my back…with his feet…I was lying on tile and there was a bathing suited man standing on me. The back massage part was intense but then he stood on my legs and feet which moved into the excruciating zone. After this he proceeded to alternate between crushing different parts of my body using his hands or slapping me like he hadn’t seen me for ages. Anyways, after the relaxing massage, he proceeded to peel the crap out of my back and front, leaving me with a good size hickey on my neck. The hickey would have been hard to explain except that Chanda has received several from her hamam visits. Good times all around. (Matt, did you get hamamed (not hammed) when you were here?)

________

Camel: Name - Steve, Occupation, eating bushes and following "le premier"

On the way to Douze, we met two of the friendlist Tunisians I have encountered, who were really funny and had clips of some very serious looking Mujahadeen doing kung fu and then kicking one guy off of the screen. They were great fun and insisted on paying for our louage trip and for the coffee, to which we had invited them. They turned out to be sergeants in the Tunisian army and had little advice for me in my endeavours to become a $py. This was apparently uncouth.

Upon our eventual arrival in Douze, Chanda convinced me not only to get on a camel but to ride it into the Sahara. Fortunately, Steve was friendly and we did not stray too far from Douze, Southern City, the "gateway to the Sahara." Good couscous, friendly conversation and Arabic lesson. So tired I couldna see a thing by 10:30. Sahara means desert in Arabic, so apparently I have been calling the Sahara the desert desert. Oh well. Ok done now. Going back to the pool to rest and write.

PPPS: Yes Tuna is on everything in Tuna. But of course in French the fish is called Thon (tone) so I don't think too many people here have noticed. Although our army friends did point out that we were eating a lot of "Tunisie" or Tunisia.

Religion, Belief, and Your Neighbour's Nose

So you believe in God.

So you don't.

So you want to know what I believe in, you want to know it all.

Well, I believe in love, golf gods (lower case but vengeful characters), chocolate helps deal with dementors, and that my neighbour is important.

If you want to talk about religion, then go, walking please, talk to a Priest or a person who you feel has a closer connection to God than you do. Just don't go to your neighbour and start shouting, biting, kicking or shooting. Because your freedom, to borrow John Stuart Mill's phrase, ends at your neighbour's nose.

And lest you feel you have an obligation to save others, please remember the Golden rule or the saying of the Prophet PBH, or the words of the Torah or the words of Confuscious...

Don't bother others unless you are willing to listen to them talk back to you. Be good to your neighbour.

With thanks to Ernie Tannis

Man and Woman in a Chinese restaurant in Tunis

- This is not a personal story, but I was there -

Who knows who arrived first? Was it the man who took a bench seat and ordered a meal and then a beer? Did the woman come in after, and seek out a seat - with a view of, but a distance from, the front door? Did she notice him on the way to the table or was she just relieved to get off of the street into a relaxed setting?

Or did the woman take up her strategic position in the back corner of the restaurant first? Maybe the man came in and brazenly took up a seat with only a table - a chair - a small divider -another bench seat - and her table - to divide them?

Maybe it will help if I describe them. He: 40ish, Asian, eyes that could smile easily and the lines to prove it, perched on a chair, full of action but relaxed in repose. She: late 30s, blonde-brown hair, smiley but fatigued from the calls of the street and the stress of work, travelling to meet with the local affiliate, now in a space of respite from the street.

They each drank from green bottles of beer. Maybe he had already eaten or else he would eat later. She ordered a plate of some sort: rice, maybe with some meat.

But of course this is all background to the topic at hand: relationship?

His eyes as already described looked quick to laugh as he peered around the restaurant. His glance brushing against a poster (of the Asahi Beer woman, strangely incongruous in this Tunisian Chinese restaurant) must have met her gaze once. At least once. Did it linger? Who can know? Perhaps, she was the one who caught him in her vision and transformed him from stranger to potential comforter.

There is something about this transformation, when one of the other millions of people sharing the earth with us, steps out of the line and smiles or frowns or shares an emotion. An emotion that comforts or challenges. Tells us of an inner depth, a possibility.

I should say the restaurant was completely empty except for me and two other expats, and the servers and presumably some sort of cook in the back. I know little more, but I imagine that in an effort to connect they would have shared a smile and perhaps commented on the food or the weather, perhaps asked about the day.

I imagine that he joins her at her table. She clears a space for him to place down his beer. He interjects with a claim that her kindness is unnecessary. They smile again and pause. What next? The pause lingers.

Then both speak at once. Another moment of pause and then she begins to talk. She talks of her day or life or perhaps the challenge of travelling alone in a strange country. He listens intently without hearing a word but with hearing a tone. Her voice soothes. He feels the hairs at the back of his head perk and goose bumps running down his spine. She pauses at his silence and he smiles to encourage her to go on.

She continues with more confidence and faster speech to tell her stories - to connect to another human being - in a way that has been impossible since her trip began. He is nodding but she realizes he is not following. She slows again and asks a question. He smiles broadly and gestures her to continue.

She asks if he speaks English.

He responds with "English"

She tries, "francais, espanol, arabic?"

"Francais, oui, je parle francais..." he says clearly and rapidly, far to rapidly for her school french.

She remember just a few phrases and a bit of Spanish, "un petit peu lentement".

He nods and continues at a slower pace to introduce himself and to tell her of his day. Now his voice speaks of a rythm that connects to her in an unexpected way. She attempts to catch as many words as she can. The story of his day relates to his work and travel that is certain but he is speaking of something familiar to her.

He slows down and stops. She realizes that there is another awkward pause and she fills it with
"oui, oui."

Silence continues. He drinks. She picks at her food. They smile again.

---

I imagine that they had a night of passionate love. I imagine that they had a night of sharing and stayed up late talking. I hope at least that they were able to connect. That is why we live and that is why I noticed that man and that woman in a Chinese restaurant in Tunis, Tunisia.

Government holding back virtuous CEOs

I sincerely hope that the statements made by corporate executives from Johnson & Johnson, PG&E and Dupont were sincere and honest. This video produced by the Sea Studios and linked to by Business for Social Responsibility.

CHECK IT OUT - Ahead of the Curve: Business Responds to Climate Change.