Chapter 1
Ben Ali’s Tunisia was full of contradictions. It was one of the most secular Arab countries (at least at the institutional level), with a family code inspired by the Western legal system and a focus on gender equality, but also a place where criticizing the president could lead to years in prison. The 1990s that followed, under Ben Ali’s continuous “soft” dictatorship, were characterized by the attempt to “modernize” the Tunisian state, which during that period was considered one of the most politically stable entities in the Arab world.
Ben Ali, though moderate compared to many of his regional counterparts, still governed without allowing a real opposition to develop.
Despite publicizing Tunisia to the world as a majority-secular state, in the small villages, attachment to the religious culture of Islam remained strong.
Young people born in those years grew up with their bodies in African territory and with the hope of soon matching their European peers, as portrayed in the stories and news from media and newspapers.
Ben Ali was selling a dream; a dream at a high price.
Introduction to Kamal’s Life
Tunis, 1994. The first legislative elections took place, guaranteeing opposition parties a share of seats in parliament, but Ben Ali remained the only candidate for the presidency.
A few years earlier, precisely in August 1987, Kamal Abbas was born to a humble family consisting of a father, mother, and two older sisters, aged eight and six.
The head of the household, Aziz, worked as a shoemaker in a small shack inside the Medina market, or perhaps it would be better to say that his main task was collecting, pairing, and fixing used shoes gathered near the Medjerda River with the aim of reselling them at a good price.
Aziz’s business, although not very economically productive, still managed to secure a daily meal for the entire family.
Reda, the eldest, and Marwa, the youngest, attended the “École Robert-Desnos” primary school located a few alleys away from their home, while strong and caring Wiam lovingly dedicated herself to the house and the children, waking up at dawn to prepare breakfast for them.
Chapter 1
Love is a Grown-Up Thing
Tunisia, February 14, 1993
“Mom, you know, I think I’m going to ask Amira to be my girlfriend.”
“Kamal, you know very well who your fiancée is going to be...”
“I don’t like Ines at all, she has a big nose and her eyes are super close together.”
Wiam, hiding a sly smile: “What are you talking about? Ines is beautiful, you just don’t realize it because you’re still little! And besides, you know very well... you are promised to her, and she is promised to you,” she said to her son with firm determination, meeting his gaze.
-“But I don’t want her, I want Amira!” the little boy protested, pouting.
-“And who is this Amira?”
Aziz, interrupting their dialogue with an annoyed voice:
-“Amira is the daughter of that crazy revolutionary Mohamed.”
-“The appliance repairman? He’s had our fan for two weeks! He gets on my nerves with that air of always knowing more than everyone else,” she replied.
The man, with a resigned sigh, settled into the wooden chair, a weathered piece of furniture that seemed to have listened to countless family conversations:
-“I already told this little man! Come here on my lap, let me explain something...” he said, lifting the boy up from under his armpits, a small body that put up a weak resistance, a gesture of capricious independence.
-“...You see, Ines’s father, your future bride, is one of the most respected shepherds in town. He owns more than a hundred sheep, and one day, when you have a family with his daughter, you’ll be able to take care of that flock firsthand and live a quiet life, without financial worries. Wouldn’t you like to have that nice Mercedes you see on television when you grow up?” Aziz’s voice, a mixture of hope and pragmatism, grew softer, almost painting a golden future for his only male child.
Kamal, thinking to himself: “Yes, dad, I’d like to... But...”
-“That’s enough!” exclaimed Wiam, in a tone that allowed for no reply, cutting off her son’s hesitation: “Go eat breakfast over there with your sisters before the milk gets cold.”
Time passed quickly, and for Kamal, going to school in the morning meant reaching what he couldn’t fall asleep for at night.
Ines’s parents, respected and well-liked figures in the Tunis of that time, regularly visited the Abbas home, a social ritual aimed at “introducing” the two young betrothed, a step toward an already outlined future.
In particular, on a warm afternoon on March 14, 1994, during one of the organized lunches, Aziz, with a proud smile, portioning out the Bouza (a traditional Tunisian dessert):
-“Taste this dessert, my wife made it with her own hands.”
Farouk, in a playful tone: “I hope your wife used my milk!”
-“We’ve never drunk better milk, how could I use any other?” Wiam retorted, playing along.
A hearty laugh broke out among those present, with the exception of Malika.
Farouk’s wife, with a pensive gaze, watched the two children in the courtyard drawing colored squares on the gray stone pavement.
To tell the truth, an intense harmony was blooming between the two little ones, a bond that, in the eyes of those hoping for a union, boded very well for a “happy imposition.”
But a young boy’s heart, as we know, is already very mature and knows how to distinguish pure affection from what adults often fail to give shape to. Thus, for an attentive mother like Malika, a premature glance was enough to figure out whether her daughter was being looked at with the eyes of someone who loves her and will love her forever.
Kamal met Amira for the first time thanks to his sisters Renda and Marwa, whom the young girl’s father had politely asked to share the home-to-school journey.
That twenty-minute walk on foot, besides stirring up dust with every step, fueled the growing acquaintance between the two.
Amira had recently turned twelve when Marwa confided in her that her brother’s fondness for her went far beyond a simple “crush.”
The news caught her by surprise, an unexpected echo that resonated in her heart. The whole town took her union with the shepherd’s daughter for granted, a bond woven by tradition. Yet, thinking back, she realized the clues had always been there, hidden among Kamal’s stolen glances and shy gestures.
Now, it is crucial to point out that, paradoxically, the person most at risk was Marwa herself, who, aware of her brother’s destiny, had spilled the secret to Amira—an act of loyalty and complicity that could have unexpected consequences.
It wasn’t long before Renda, the eldest sister, revealed everything to their father, a secret that could crack the foundations of the family’s future.
Aziz, after all, had placed his hopes in his only male child to perpetuate the family name, finally associating it with a certain social prestige.
He therefore decided to forbid Kamal from continuing to walk to school with that group.
But what did Amira think about all this?
The young girl with amber eyes and pitch-black hair, loose and free from the veil, had also been harboring strong feelings for Kamal for some time.
Her situation was more favorable, since her father had not promised his only daughter in marriage to any of the suitors—who, to tell the truth, were few, due to his ideologies being considered “too Western.”
The morning after that revelation, while walking the path to school with an air of bravado that perhaps concealed a hint of envy, Renda said:
-“My brother never wanted you; didn’t you realize Marwa was joking yesterday morning?” She kept her eyes fixed on the path, while her sister lowered hers.
Amira, with a voice trying to lighten the weight of the words: “I was sure of it, we all know he only has eyes for Ines, the shepherd’s daughter, and besides, frankly, I like someone else!”
-“I was sure of it, we’re friends and, if it had been true, you would have told me already, right?”
-“Absolutely yes, what better recommendation than the sister of the boy you want?!”
-“Anyway, Kamal won’t come with us anymore... my father will walk him to school every morning before going to work.”
A tight grip of pain clutched the young girl’s heart. The thought of catching glimpses of Kamal only during the fleeting moments of recess, under Renda’s watchful and almost smug gaze, inflicted silent suffering upon her. The sister, free from any romantic worries since her future spouse attended a different school, seemed almost to relish her role as an inflexible guardian.
On the other side, the young boy had been hit with a strict ban: no words with Amira.
That wasn’t all; it seemed Aziz had struck an agreement with the shepherd—an arrangement that would see the two kids study together every afternoon until the end of their studies.
Ines would tutor Kamal in Italian, while she, struggling with math, could bridge her gaps thanks to her future husband’s skills.
Just like Amira, when the boy learned that his father would be walking him to school in the morning, the ground felt like it was disappearing from under his feet.
Repressed anger toward Aziz barely boiled beneath the surface, a contained fire that often turned into shame at the mere thought of openly defying those long, black, curly mustaches—a symbol of undisputed and feared authority.
Could the matter of “love” really be something reserved only for adults? the young boy began to wonder.
Chapter 2
Day and Night
Tunisia, September 17, 1995
The glass of Amira’s window tapped lightly, a sound almost imperceptible in the quiet of the deep night; it was two-thirty in the morning. She woke up with a start, her heart beating wildly against her ribs. She leaned out, her neck strained and her gaze scanning the darkness, but nothing seemed to disturb the deep, complicit sleep of the neighborhood. The streets were deserted, a wasteland of concrete and dust illuminated only by the dim light of the streetlamps. She was about to withdraw when a soft voice, by then as familiar to her as her own, called out to her:
-“Amira, it’s me, Kamal!”
A shudder ran down her spine, a mix of surprise and apprehension: “What are you doing here? If they catch you, your father will beat you to a pulp!”
-“I need to talk to you, otherwise I won’t close an eye.”
-“You’ll sleep tomorrow, now go away before someone sees you!” she insisted, with a barely suppressed whispered plea.
-“I haven’t slept in a while now; come on, come down!”
-“My father is resting in the next room,” she replied in a thread of a voice. “I can’t!”
-“That means I’ll come to you!”
Without hesitating, the boy climbed the drainpipe, his hands gripping the cold, rusty surface, and with surprising agility reached the adjacent balcony railing.
-“You’re crazy!” Amira choked back a scream, pressing her hands to her mouth. “My father is in there, get down right away!”
-“Relax, he’s sleeping blissfully, you can tell by his expression...!” he said, with a mix of boldness and recklessness, peering through the window glass “...This situation is wearing me out, I can’t stand the idea of not being able to talk to you anymore, in fact, it makes me feel really sick,” he continued, once he had landed with a light jump on the girl’s balcony.
Amira: “It makes me feel sick too, but there’s not much to be done... You’re promised to Ines, you’ll just have to accept it.”
Kamal, with an intensity that pierced his heart: “And can you accept it? Tell me the truth... can you?”
-“You’re a fool, right now you’re even being disrespectful to that poor girl who imagines you by her side one day,” she replied, feeling exposed as her cheeks flushed.
-“Ines is very smart, she already realized long ago that my heart is inextricably tied to you... We’re great friends and she knew I was coming here tonight.”
-“And besides her, who else knows?” the young girl asked worriedly.
-“My sister Marwa, who has always been my secret confidante and our supporter.”
Suddenly, a light turned on in a nearby house. With a quick and instinctive gesture, Amira grabbed Kamal’s shirt, pulling him forcefully inside her room; then she slammed the shutters and windows shut.
The moonlight, filtering through the half-closed curtains, painted Amira’s face with a silvery glow. The boy paused for a moment to think about how beautiful she was and how many slaps such a dazzling vision was worth. Salivation failed him, while his heartbeats increased so fast that the words struggled to come out of his mouth. He passed his tongue over his dry lips, then took the young girl’s hand and, in a trembling voice, whispered:
-“Ever since I first saw you, I can no longer appreciate eyes that aren’t yours, desire to touch other hair... but above all, I cannot imagine a wife who isn’t you, children who aren’t ours, walls of a home that aren’t steeped in our scents, our daily stories... Amira, I love you, I love you,” he told her with the innocent certainty of someone pronouncing those words for the first time in their life; “... and if this feeling of mine, so strong, is not reciprocated in the same way, as much as I love you, I will let you go and wish for your happiness, learning to live with my eternal sadness.”
A solitary tear tracked down the young girl’s face, glittering in the moonlight, and fell onto their intertwined hands.
Kamal pressed his forehead against hers and continued: “I will wait for the day when, if you want it, we can live our love in complete peace... never doubt it.”
Amira, with a thread of uncertain voice: “And what if that day never comes?”
-“It means we will entrust ourselves to the night...” he whispered.
-“What do you mean?” she asked, confused.
-“I promise before Allah that every evening, at 12:30 AM, I will come looking for you wherever you are. Even if I have to walk across the whole city.”
Amira, with her eyes filling with tears: “And I promise that the anticipation of seeing you will drive away any fatigue accumulated during the enemy day.”
Thus, an immature and clandestine kiss, light as the beating of wings, sealed the beginning of the relationship between the two lovers.
From that night on, the two kept their promise, defying fate and the rules, looking for every opportunity to meet, even if just for an hour stolen from time, with the constant hope of not being discovered.
Kamal studied with Ines in the afternoon; the girl, a willing accomplice dreaming of a love as strong and rebellious as theirs, knew everything and often encouraged him to follow his heart.
In the evening, he would sneak out of bed, helped by his younger sister, who every time had to invent a credible excuse not to arouse the suspicions of Renda, who slept in the bunk bed above.
Easier said than done.
Over time, it happened that Kamal, due to some unexpected event, could not reach her. Then Amira, without hesitation, would rush to his house to keep the promise alive.
Chapter 3
Strong Decisions
Tunisia, May 11, 2001
-“Amira, I’m here...” Kamal whispered under the girl’s window.
-“Climb up, quickly!”
-“Nah, let’s go for a walk... it’s a beautiful evening.”
In an instant, she climbed down and, stealthy as a cat, stepped out into the street.
Their hands brushed and then locked in that silent pact.
They ran until they reached a small hill on the outskirts of the city, which offered a magical panorama, almost a privileged vantage point to gaze at the lunar craters that seemed so close they could be touched.
Under a mighty olive tree, which exuded infinite wisdom with its twisted branches, the kids spread a large yellow and orange cotton sheet and lay down on it.
Amira, filling her lungs deeply with fresh air: “You really had a great idea coming here, there’s truly an atmosphere and a wonderful view.”
Kamal, his gaze lost in the immensity of the starry sky: “You know, I’ve decided to confront my parents head-on. I want to tell them how things stand, and how they will be from now on. By now I’m fourteen years old, I’m a man; we’ve been hiding for too long.”
-“I’d like to talk to my father as soon as possible too, but it’s not the time yet...“, she said with uncertainty.
The young man felt sad for a moment, then catching his breath:
-“Do you have doubts? What’s holding you back?” he asked fearfully.
-“I’ve already told you how, since my father changed jobs, he works grueling hours. He comes home exhausted, has dinner, and goes straight to bed. I’m afraid he wouldn’t give the matter the right importance...”
Kamal: “I thought the new job at the hotel gave him much more satisfaction than the previous one...”
-“He gets along well with his colleagues, he likes the work... but I see him quite fatigued; nothing to worry about anyway, as soon as I see him in the right mood I’ll seize the opportunity to talk to him about us.”
Kamal, hopeful: “Do you think he’ll take it well? I mean... has he ever said anything about me?”
-“Ahahah, he’s never expressed himself about it, also because we all know very well that you’re already engaged to the ” she replied with an ironic tone.
-“It’s decided! Tomorrow afternoon I’ll reveal myself to everyone. They’ll have to accept my choice, come what may.”
Once back home, Kamal lay down, but sleep would not come. The room was plunged in darkness, but the thoughts in his mind were brighter than a thousand stars. He tossed and turned in bed, clutching his pillow, and replayed every word of the conversation with Amira. The idea of confronting his parents the next day frightened and galvanized him at the same time. What would they say? Would they yell? Would they be disappointed?
He got out of bed and went to the window.
The moon, an accomplice to their romantic evening, was still there keeping him company. He promised himself he wouldn’t back down. His love for Amira was pure and strong, and it deserved to be lived in the sunlight.
Tomorrow would be the beginning of a new life for them, or so he hoped.
He sighed, closed his eyes, and fell asleep, dreaming of a future where he and his beloved could be happy, without hiding from anyone.
THE FOLLOWING EVENING
In front of the small, battered mirror hanging on the wall of the bedroom he shared with his sisters, he practiced over and over the words he would have to say, a speech he felt was urgent and necessary.
He looked at the clock; the hands pointed to eight-thirty, and right at that moment, his father returned from work—an opportunity he could not let slip away.
He checked the tone of his voice, his facial expressions... He had the feeling of looking unconvincing at times, and so he would start all over again, attempting to fix his rehearsed posture.
He straightened his frail shoulders multiple times, trying to adopt a more decisive air, a more credible appearance.
When he finally felt almost ready, he headed into the next room, finding his parents already busy getting ready to go out.
-“Come on Kamal, we’re late,” said his father, adjusting his jacket collar.
-“Late for what? I need to talk to you about...”
Aziz, with a hurried look: “We’ll talk about it later. We have to go to dinner at your future in-laws’.”
The young man had completely forgotten about it. This spoke volumes about the level of concentration he had reached during those hours.
-“Can we talk now? I really need to,” he insisted, but his parents, caught up in the rush, seemed not to hear him.
Renda, the older sister, with an imperceptible nod, signaled him to drop it, while Marwa, busy sweeping the floor, listened in silence.
After a few minutes, the boy, Aziz, and Wiam were at the Habib home.
The smell of the sheep flock in the back of the house caused a sense of nausea in Kamal, which he tried to hide out of politeness in the presence of their hosts.
-“Make yourselves comfortable, it’s a pleasure to have you in our home,” said Farouk, welcoming them warmly.
Aziz: “Thank you, my dear friend, we brought a small token for tonight’s dinner.”
-“You shouldn’t have troubled yourselves...” exclaimed the wife, feigning polite embarrassment.
Wiam: “I remade the cake you liked so much last time!”
Aziz, addressing his future daughter-in-law: “Hello Ines, I hope everything is well, my son was anxious to see you...”
The girl smiled doubtfully.
-“Let’s go into the other room, we wouldn’t want to disturb the kids, they’ll have a lot to talk about,” said Farouk, then addressing the adults with a discreet hint.
Once alone, with the chatter of the parents coming from the next room in the background, Kamal turned worriedly to Ines: “My friend, you have to help me! I’ve decided to talk to my parents about the arranged marriage they set up for us.”
-“And how could I? You know very well that my father is even more reluctant to talk than yours...”
Kamal: “Tonight I’m going to bring up the subject. They will have to listen to me... and you will have to back me up.”
-“Kami, you know I love you infinitely and I’d do anything for you... But don’t you think it’s better to tackle this topic another time?” she said, troubled by a growing unease.
Kamal: “Both my parents and yours need to be well-informed about the facts, so they have no way out. And besides, wouldn’t you rather meet that boy you keep talking to me about, instead of continuing to exchange glances from afar?”
-“Well, yes...” the girl blushed for a second.
-“And so it’s settled. Tonight we’re going to give everyone present indigestion!”
This last statement was followed by a nervous laugh that masked the deep concerns of the two young people about what was about to happen.
Dinner arrived.
The two families sat facing each other. The table, covered with a thick cream-colored tablecloth with golden floral decorations, was set with polished terracotta glasses and silver cutlery, dusted off after years of “protective custody.” In the center, an imposing teal-colored pot with vibrant ethnic decorations reigned supreme, topped with a conical lid that guarded its contents.
Brix, surrounded by mini-salads and multicolored sauces, adorned plates scattered haphazardly for what hinted at a rich appetizer.
Kamal, despite the determination burning inside him, felt his legs tremble—an uncontrollable emotion anticipating the uncertain outcome of his unexpected declaration.
He repeatedly looked for Ines’s gaze, a signal of complicity that never came.
Farouk, with a host’s smile: “Do me the pleasure of tasting this Cabernet Sauvignon, a gift from a dear friend of many years ago. Today, with you at the table, it’s the perfect occasion to cork it!”
Aziz: “Wait a second, Farouk...” With a crafty smile, he slipped his hand into the pocket of his brown velvet trousers and pulled out a small, glossy black box.
Kamal, upon seeing it, stood motionless, as if time had stopped—a premonition chilling the blood in his veins, while his mother, with a gentle gesture, motioned for him to stand up.
Aziz, with an emotional voice: “A sincere toast goes to someone truly special. And who is more special than our children, the creatures we brought into the world with love and sacrifice, hoping to see them happy and fulfilled one day? Today, Wiam and I, with Kamal’s approval and joy, are here to officially ask to set the wedding date and start preparations immediately, because we well know these things take time and effort! We therefore beg you to accept this gift, a token our son has reserved for Ines.” And, opening the box, he offered it to the young girl, who admired its gleaming shine.
That thin copper ring instantly provoked a raising of glasses among everyone present, except for the two youngsters who stared at each other for a few seconds before Kamal spoke up, interrupting the ongoing celebration and enthusiasm with a deafening cry that took the form of a sharp “No”:
-“Neither I nor Ines want to get married! We both have the right to speak, and we are not mere tools to achieve your superficial goals!”
Aziz, amid general astonishment and in evident embarrassment: “What... what are you saying, Kamal?”
-“You heard me right. I love someone else and I will never accept losing her!”
After this shocking statement, he bolted up from the table and, slamming the door hard, ran out of the house toward Amira’s dwelling.
Finally, that huge boulder he had been carrying inside himself for a long, too-long time had been hurled forcefully at those who had never listened to his feelings and emotions.
During that run, he thought that perhaps there was no one in the world who truly knew him for who he was.
-“AMIRA, AMIRA,” he shouted once he arrived under the girl’s building.
Strangely, unlike all the other times, no one answered. So, without thinking twice, he climbed up to her balcony, as he usually did.
Knocking on the window yielded no sign of life, so he tried to peek through the curtains:
The bed was completely stripped and the room looked barest than he actually remembered...
Down at the corner of the balcony, he saw a flowerpot with yellow flowers from which an envelope was peeking out.
With hands trembling with anxiety, he pulled it out.
That light-blue envelope had no address, only his name, written in a handwriting he knew all too well.
His heart stopped for a second, as if it had braced itself for the worst.
He opened it cautiously as the thin paper rustled between his fingers:
“My beloved Kamal,
I ask your forgiveness for what these few lines will convey to you.
Remember when, the other night, under the olive tree, we talked about my father’s situation?
Well, at that moment I would have wanted to tell you how things really stood, but perhaps to avoid causing us pain, I stayed silent hoping that one day you could understand me.
He found love with an Italian woman, Giulia, and together they decided to move and get married in Italy in a civil ceremony.
At first, the mere thought of not being able to see you anymore made my world collapse.
Then, I had to think about what would be right for me, but above all for you.
When you told me you wanted to talk to your parents about our love, throwing away what they had imagined for you, I felt like the cause of the whole unfolding situation.
In the future, how could your parents ever accept me as part of the family?
My father took a while to dissuade me from the idea of staying on Arab soil.
He wants me to continue my studies in a country that can give me more guarantees than ours, he wants me to broaden my views and open up to new horizons...
I will carry you with me forever, wherever I go, because I belong to you and you belong to me, and no one decided this for us.
Go on with your life, marry Ines, who is a wonderful girl, and start a family.
Don’t think about what could have been between us. It’s enough for me to have the hope that one day we will meet again with the serenity of those who truly understood what was best for one another.
I hope to see you again one day not too far away.
Forever yours,
Amira.”
The young man felt faint; his legs felt like they couldn’t support the weight of his body, and he leaned, in disbelief, against the balcony railing beside him.
His gaze fell to the street below, where he spotted the figure of his sister Marwa, eyes glossy, arms hanging limp at her sides—an expression betraying powerlessness in the face of her little brother’s pain, this time unable to offer the comfort of the past.
After that evening, Aziz, his pride wounded, cut off all contact with his son, who, having no other choice, took refuge with his maternal grandmother.
Over the years, Kamal visited his mother when she was at work—a pretext to savor the unique dishes only her hands could make extraordinarily appetizing, and to exchange a few words with Marwa, who was still tied to the house.
Renda, on the other hand, had built a new life in the south of Tunis a few years earlier with a husband chosen for her.
That conflict thus became an opportunity to prove to himself that he could become the master of his own life.
He was now a young man, with the maturity that the years had sculpted on his face, when he completed his studies.
He immersed himself in the hectic life of the markets of old Tunis, a labyrinth of colors and scents, looking for a job that would allow him to gain independence and, at the same time, save some money.
The search lasted thirteen days—a period of sacrifices and renunciation, where every morning he ventured among the colorful stalls and every night he returned with only a single meal to satisfy his hunger.
On the fourteenth day, the unexpected turning point: he asked a hardware store owner on the edge of the market if he was looking for a willing young man, and to his great surprise, the answer was an immediate acceptance.
Over the years, he honed his skills, his craftsmanship grew, until it erased any fear in asking for a raise—a recognition of his value.
Customers themselves, appreciating his competence and reliability, began turning directly to him, bypassing the owner, who strangely seemed unbothered by it, almost accepting his growing importance.
He thus decided to rent a home and live alone.
His goal, a secret dream he nurtured, was to accumulate a nest egg and undertake one of the most dangerous journeys that would lead him back to his beloved Amira.
