Clouds of Tunisia

As we sat on a ledge next to the small, simple white mosque perched on the rise of the hill, the shadows began to stretch and lengthen across the valleys below, reaching up to Chenini as the golden light deepened the earthen tones of the town. Our gazes flew across the plains, re-traversed the intersecting pedestrian paths we had puzzled along to reach the saddle where we now rested, and wandered through the ancient ksour, a fortified granary perched atop the mountain.
On a crisp winter day, my boyfriend and I had arrived in this remote Berber village strategically situated on the fin of a mountain overlooking two broad valleys in southern Tunisia. Exploring Chenini is reminiscent of entering an M. C. Escher print, all labyrinthine staircases and miniscule rooms with tiny doors and windows. A mysterious system for tracking grain stores remains: clumps of mud are smoothed in geometric patterns across the curved ceilings of the storage rooms. The key has been lost to time. Not long ago, a fair population still lived atop the mountain, but most have relocated to the lower reaches, leaving the ksour, some of which dates to the 12th century, to silently crumble back to the rock from which it was etched.
As we warmed our hands around cups of strong, sweet mint tea, the music of life in Chenini began to surround us: the birds rising and calling to each other as they chased mosquitoes in the darkening light; the teenagers cajoling the donkeys to get one more load up the hill before dark; the small camel turning the olive oil press; the creaking and clanging of the ramshackle merry-go-round far below; the bossing of the children determinedly playing on it; the quiet conversation of old men wrapped in traditional barnous cloaks against the nip in the air; and the call to prayer breaking from the mosque’s tower. The wind rose up from below and lifted the rugs hanging from the eaves of a small shop, snapping them gently as the silver earrings tinkled softly.
Stars began to emerge and multiply across the expanse of sky as the chill seeped into us. I thought of cliff dwellings I had visited in the American Southwest and marveled at being the lone outsiders in this bewitching town. I slipped off my shoes and stumbled down the path, feeling my way along the cobblestones, unwilling to tear my gaze from the night sky. We fell into a deep sleep in a bedroom carved into the mountain, blanketed by the thick silence of the earth. Outside, Chenini shouldered into the wind.