The island of Djerba is the largest island in North Africa, and Houmt Souq is the largest town. The island is connected to the mainland via a causeway that we crossed yesterday and also by ferry from the town of Ajim. Legend has it that Djerba was an island of lotus-eaters, a plant which appears to have narcotic properties, rendering those who ate it relaxed and apathetic. Sounds like they had drug problems even in ancient times, if you ask me. And modern-day Houmt Souq has another problem, European package tourists who come for the sea, sand, sun, and sex, but with little apparent regard for local culture (Tunisia is overwhelmingly Moslem).
Our hotel, the nicely appointed hotel des Sables d’Or located in the central souq, is a former funduq – now that is not a word you hear every day. A funduq was a type of lodging catering to both camel caravans (on the first floor), while the merchants took rooms on the floors above. The markets in Houmt Souq are very tourist-focused as stallholders sell every item of tourist junk imaginable. Apparently, though, the souq retains more of its cultural identity than the Zona Touristique further up the coast. Periodically coaches arrive in Houmt Souq from the Zona Touristique and disgorge souvenir-hungry tourists into the markets. Chaos ensues for the next hour and then the tourists return to their hotels in air-conditioned comfort (the air-con, I do miss).
Having started with such a scathing commentary you may be wondering why Christi and I came here in the first place. The truth is the sex, of course. Okay that’s a fib. Actually, I told Christi Djerba would be an idyllic, romantic island. Okay, that’s a fib too. The Lonely Planet guide does paint an attractive picture of the place, though: ‘ethnic diversity’, ‘fascinating architecture’ and ‘great beaches’, which did persuade Christi it was worth spending a few days here. I really wanted to come to Djerba because it is yet another Star Wars hotspot (and the last of my mini-pilgrimage). Before I embark upon that little adventure though, Christi and I explore Houmt Souq harbor and the nearby fort of Borj El Ghazi Mustapha.
The harbor is a bustling, energetic port, where expensive pleasure boats sit cheek by jowl with grimy, dirty fishing boats, further emphasizing the uncomfortable dichotomy of life on the island. Clay pots, used to catch octopi, are stacked against the harbor wall, while mountains of fishing nets dot the port. The harbor also boasts some fine restaurants and we choose one a little off the beaten track called The Little Fisherman. The views (of the port and the fort) and our lunch are both sumptuous: fish soup (Christi) and brik (me) for starters and then we shared a very tasty fish , chips and salad (as did a couple of the local cats).
After lunch we visit the nearby fort, Borj El Ghazi Mustapha. Dating to the 13th Century, the fort (and the island) was long fought over by the Ottomans and the Spanish. Eventually in 1560 the Ottomans won a decisive victory; they celebrated by stacking the skulls of 5-6,000 Spanish dead as a warning against those wishing to oust the Ottomans. The pyramid of death remained in place for almost 300 years, but there is little of menace or interest remaining in the fort today which appears to be in the midst of a massive renovation project.
I hope my search for historical artefacts from the not-so-distant past tomorrow are more successful.
Blog post by Roderick Phillips, author of Weary Heart – a gut-wrenching tale of love and test tubes.
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