POSTED BY SERGIO MACIAS-VAZQUEZ ON JULY 30, 2019
Twelve hours after arriving in Tunisia, I found myself under a tent on the shores of the Mediterranean sipping tea. It was 1 in the afternoon and I was taking in the ancient ruins of the Roman baths of Carthage when the playful cry of a child from across the ruins in a hilltop compound split the whisper of the water and the others in the café. A pristine field, a line of tents, and armed guards manning the walls begged me to ask those next to me – ‘What’s that compound?’ ‘The president’s palace, a beautiful piece of land.’ He was 92 they said. He had been hospitalized a month prior, and the café goers said some thought he had died a month ago. It was a curious way to enter the world of Tunisian politics.
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