Leaving the station, we were enclosed into a long blustery road. The air coming through the open trucks window brought a nonstop traffic noise. We drove on in a burning sun and sweet begun to roll of me in layers. After an hour of drive, the car came to a halt and a policeman put his head through the window. I peered through the car’s window I notice a jeep and three police motorbikes parked on the side of the road; I recognized that it was a police check.
The road started thinning; the driver reduced the speed to give the opportunity to trucks on the left to surpass. After two hour of drive we got out of this emaciated road and the driver augmented the speed. We drove in silence and it was unsuccessful to forge any little chat with the drives fixing all his attention on the road and his cigarettes that did not leave his lips along the way.
10 miles to arrive to Welad Lehoussin, the road started changing; the land became little smooth and sandy dotted with palm trees and at that time I was thinking of camels caravans, but goats conquered the area. Through a panoramic view of Welad Lehoussin, the sight was stunning. Hills punctuated with palm trees surrounded the area and little grass tinted the place.
I walked by a group of women doing washing and other drawing water, I was shocked when they stopped doing that when the noticed me passing by and turned their head away until I had passed. An old man passed by me on his donkey rides slowly through the main road carrying dates on the Shwari or the donkey’ bags to buy it in Souk and would stop to exchange some greetings and words with men sitting beside the road. Here you feel just you are back in history with Sindibad Ali Baba.
The rout led to the palm trees through a thick wall houses and for a moment I had a feeling of lost. I looked left, right, to find anybody for a help but none appeared. I walked forward a little and I saw old men from behind squatting by a tree. When I peered I discover that he was urinating. I laughed since it was a long time I had not seen such one urinating in such way which is believed to the perfect way of urinating Islam so as to not any urine dashes would touch the man’s clothes. Prayers in Islam are not accepted with clothes touched by urine.
I got the house and I was warmly welcomed by my friend Ali who led me to the courtyard through a long narrow corridor leading to the guestroom. Taking off your shoes is a mark of respect in a Muslim houses and also it is meant keep the antique carpe away from any dirt or mud. The carpet should be always clean so the prayers are accepted once they are done at home.
Ali pointed to by his hand to sit and I squatted cross legs on the carpet. I was left alone for a while and I exploited the time to look around the room and discovered it design which exceptional. Dexterously and ecologically regulated, its walls were made of stones and mud, apparently attached together. It was covered with a sort of white distemper, and the roof which seemed to be plaited leaves, was supported by exposed, dark wooden beams.
