11.11.11 - Occupy Tunis

When I first arrived at La Place des Droits de l'Homme on 11.11.11, I have to admit I was a bit let down. A bit uninspired. I was told that this park, in the heart of Tunis's downtown district, was to be the setting for a huge "Occupy Tunis" demonstration - yet upon my arrival I found nothing more than a few hippies playing drums on the ground and some people arguing with each other in a circle. I couldn't believe it. I was in Tunis, Tunisia - the place where it all started, the place where the people shouted so loudly that they brought a 23 year dictatorship down to the ground. And now, a drum circle? A few dozen people loudly discussing capitalism and communism? What has happened? I walked around the park for a few moments, wondering if I had come to the right place. Than, just as I was about to give up and go hit the nearest coffee shop for a capuccino and some chicha, they arrived; an army of sign waving, slogan chanting, demonstrators. Within moments the park was completely packed with activists, local and foreign press, and other's just curious as to what all the commotion was about.

Inspired by the "Occupy Wall Street" movement in New York City, the demonstration in Tunis made 2 things about Tunisians very clear to me: 1. These guys love to protest, and 2. These guys are really serious about making change in their country. Yet, while there was something beautifully cyclical about a protest inspired by protests inspiring other protests, I feel that for me the actually purpose of the "Occupy" movement got a bit skewed. As it turned out, Occupy Tunis seemed almost to be more about communism and less about anti-capitalism. Red flags dawning the classic hammer and sickle flew as members of Tunisia's communist party gave speeches and handed out literature. Now this is not to say that the whole event was one big communism seminar, naturally other classic protest favorites were there too; El Che, Marx, and even Mao Zedong got some face time on a few posters and t shirts. However, I must say that I was a bit startled to see that evil communist flag that, as an American, I have been taught to fear.

All in all the event was pretty tame. While I did hear stories of the police beating up on a few protesters, I didn't get the chance to see anything of that nature with my own eyes. From what I understand, this will be a weekly event, so I will follow up if anything interesting develops. Please enjoy the photos below.

Tunisia Votes

The first time I ever came to Tunisia was in December of 2010, on a trip to meet my girlfriend’s family. However, after only days of being there I found myself in the middle of a protest on the streets of Sousse. People screaming chants in Arabic, police pushing and hitting people, my first taste of tear gas – it was like something I only previously imagined seeing on CNN or Al Jazeera. This was December 27 – by the next week the whole country was in a state of emergency and by the second week of January (the 14 to be exact), Tunisia’s president/dictator of 23 years, Ben Ali, was leaving the country on a plane to Saudi Arabia – yet to return. Luckily my flight left the country just before they shut the airports down; I watched the revolution at home, on TV.

Before I continue too much, I feel that a little back-story would be helpful. During Ben Ali’s rule, he maintained absolute power over his people as well as any opposition. Youtube, myspace, and any other websites with a political opinion were 404 not available. His picture was plastered all over the country, and he was apparently ripping the people off while the common citizen was struggling to make a decent wage. It seemed that his reign would last forever (or at least until he died), until one day a fruit cart vendor named Mohamed Bouazizi changed the history of the world forever. It all started when Bouazizi had his cart confiscated by the police for not having a proper permit. This type police seizure was common practice in Tunisia at the time, as Ben Ali’s government had to make sure they had their hands in everyone’s pocket. Frustrated that his government wouldn’t even allow him to make a modest living selling fruit, Bouazizi decided to set himself on fire in protest. Now, this wasn’t the first time in Tunisia that someone had set themselves a blaze to protest the government, but Bouazizi’s case became special when his friends got involved. Obviously upset at the death of the their buddy, and understandably frustrated with the current economic situation in their country, Bouazizi’s friends began to do something that the country had not seen but once during Ben Ali’s rule – protest in the street. Eventually, people from all over the country caught wind of this story, and the protests spread from the little town of Sidi Bouzid all the way to the capital of Tunis. Next thing you know, Ben Ali Degage’d, Mubarak was behind bars, Gaddafi’s murder was on Youtube, and Americans were ‘Occupying’ everything they could make a Facebook page for.

The ‘Arab Spring’ began in Tunisia, and on upon my return in the beginning of October 2011, I was able to watch it continue. Needless to say, all this screaming and shouting, sign making and flag waving is pointless without some sort of organization to follow. After all, what good is a revolution with no purpose? So, on October 23, 2011 Tunisia gave purpose to these protests by holding the first free democratic elections of their country’s history. They were to vote for an assembly that would write their constitution. Naturally there was a lot of excitement leading up to the elections, as politics is a language Tunisians speak fluently – and passionately at that. Being able to watch the events leading up to the elections, attend speeches and rallies, speak to Tunisians, and see the street demonstrations was an inspiring experience. As time passed, I began to see Tunisia politically as I had already seen it culturally. To me, there has always been two Tunisias: the traditional and the modern. The traditional Tunisia was always my favorite part; going to the medina to buy goods, smoking chicha in a café, admiring the architecture of Sidi Bou Said – this was the Tunisia that I found interesting and beautiful. Contrast this against the super chic, French influenced, hair gel, nightclub, bottle service, house music side that is what I refer to as the ‘modern Tunisia’. Not to say that there is no in between, but this is the dichotomy. Tunisians as a people represent such a vast diversity of lifestyles, from the strict Muslim to the ‘out til 5 in the morning’ partier. This is just apparent when viewing their culture as it is when viewing their election.

Now, most Tunisians will agree that the protests that ousted Ben Ali were lead by progressive minded, young, educated Tunisians. However, when it came time to vote another group showed up – and with strong numbers. With Islam being the main religion of Tunisia, it shouldn’t have come to a surprise to anyone that the Islamist party, Ennahda quickly became the front-runner. Leading up the elections, most young Tunisians I spoke with told me that they were very afraid that Ennahda would get a majority in the constituent assembly. After all, this is what Ben Ali and the other recently ousted dictators always used as their excuse – ‘I’m protecting you from the Islamist’. So, as the elections neared, the idea that those dictators could be right, that Islamist could gain power in government, was a scary idea to face.

On the day of elections I was able to tag along with a friend of mine. I stood in line for 3 hours as I watched Tunisians of all ages, religions, and social statuses show up to cast the first vote of their lifetime. The energy was amazing and absolutely contagious. People were truly excited and happy to play a role in their government, and there was a real feeling of unity amongst everyone. Once casting your vote, your finger was dipped in a blue ink as to ensure that you do no re-vote. This blue finger eventually became a sign of pride, as I would see people walking down the street flashing their finger at one another. Truly amazing to see as a man from a country where some people really don’t find it that important to vote.

After all was said and done, it took about 4 days for the election committee to announce the results. Naturally, Ennahda had the most votes, gaining 41% of the seats in their constituent assembly. And though this is exactly what most Tunisians feared, when I ask people about how they feel post election, many are just happy that things went smoothly and that they were able to participate in democracy. With that, they happily point out to me that with a remarkably high turn out rate, Tunisia had nearly double what some western countries have in election participation.

All things considered, I think the world is learning something from Tunisia. When I see people in the streets of Egypt, or Spain, or New York City, I remember that this all started in Tunisia. The success and outcome of this little country on the northern tip of Africa serves as a microcosm for what the world is and what the world could be. It shows that it is important to not become complacent, and to understand that this world belongs to everyone and everything – so if you are unhappy with the way things are going, make change.

Soldier explaining voting process

Voters lined up in La Marsa

International Observers

Polling information by province

Members of all parties waiting at election headquarters for the results

Election headquarters for Sousse was in an old RCD building - Ben Ali's party

Degage

Cambodia

They said Cambodia was completely flooded. News reports featuring pictures of men in water up to their waist, reading the newspaper or eating ice cream. For a moment I almost decided against making the trip to Siem Reap, but I just couldn’t. My decision to come to South East Asia was made almost completely on basis of eventually going to Cambodia, to get to Siem Reap, and finally – to Angkor Wat. So, I made up my mind and boarded a bus to Bangkok. From Bangkok, I got my ticket for a ride to the border, and then to Siem Reap afterwards. The van we took was comfortable, there were 9 of us, and the view was amazing as we drove along. Driving towards the Cambodian boarder from Bangkok I was able to see terrain slightly different then what I was used to in Rayong and Bangkok. Huge open fields of farmland, growing cassava, raising cattle, and generally just looking just as I would have imagined farms in Thailand to look. I was asleep for the first part of the journey, but as we got closer to the border I began to wake up as the rest of the passengers were discussing VISA issues and border problems. As I keyed in on what was being said, I began to realize that our van had consisted of two groups of people, people that had made this border crossing many times, and people (like myself) who had no idea what to expect. According to what I remembered from my travels in South America, I just assumed that we would get to the border, someone would slap me a high five, and say ‘come on in Zach, welcome to Cambodia’. Well – I was wrong, it was actually much different. First things first, I needed to buy a VISA, not only that, but I needed a picture of myself to accompany the VISA. The whole process would cost about 25 USD – in my wallet I had about 30 BAHT (1 dollar US). Next, the van takes us to a station in the middle of nowhere, where nicely dressed, professional (professional in this part of the world just means you actually have shoes on and your shirt is tucked in) looking men told us that the visa would be 50 USD. Thankfully, a nice young Khmer girl came to my rescue and told me to follow her, ‘do not buy the VISA’s from these men’ she told me, ‘they are rip offs’.  Anyway, after getting over the fact that the bus company I paid to take me to Cambodia, was basically trying to rip me off on the border, I continued to the next checkpoint. The lands between Thailand and Cambodia are like a scene out of a movie: men with no legs coming to you asking for money, children holding babies asking for food, people dragging huge carts of covered goods to checkpoints. I felt as if I had traveled back in time, to a land with no laws, no developed system of what one can and cannot do - a borderland.  Anyway, after waiting in line for about 2 hours, my Khmer friend helped me afford my VISA, and we got onto another bus to head towards Siem Reap.

The view out the window as the bus traveled through Cambodia was amazing. I remember thinking prior to this trip that since Thailand and Cambodia were so close to each other, they would be very similar – but I was couldn’t have been more wrong. The entire trip to Siem Reap was rice fields. Flat land, as far as I could see, with nothing but rice fields, flooded, with the occasional child swimming in them. Within the first hour I could see that Cambodia was much less developed (in a western sense of development) then Thailand. The small villages we passed through were very quaint, with houses on stilts just barely escaping the floods, and men wading through the water to catch fish or tend to the rice fields.  It took about 3 hours from the boarder to get to Siem Reap, and we arrived by night. I checked in to my guesthouse, payed 2 USD for my room, and went to sleep. It had been a long day.

The next day I went out to explore Siem Reap. Immediately I found myself thinking that I was in the middle of the jungle. It was so different then Thailand, and Bangkok. It WAS flooded, but it had a much more relaxed feel to it, and the people seemed so much humbler. The Khmer person looks much different then the Thai. It almost seemed as if the Khmer looks like a Thai mixed with an Indian (from India, duh). Faces rounder, generally hairier, lips smaller; it became easy to tell a Khmer apart from a Thai. Anyhow, I spent some time in Siem Reap, eating Khmer food, getting a fish massage, and visiting the artesian market, all the while preparing myself for what I came here to do – Angkor Wat. Angkor Wat is the oldest functioning Buddhist temple in the world, and while Angkor Wat itself is a single temple complex, Angkor Wat is alost the term used to describe a whole group of temples buried deep within the jungle of Siem Reap. Because of the beauty of these temples, Siem Reap has become a popular tourist destination. I would say that as I find Angkor Wat to be the Machu Picchu of the east, I find Siem Reap to be the Cusco.

While the town at first glance seems to be a traveler’s paradise, with everything you would need to complete your backpacker’s trek through SE ASIA, after a while you start to see a different side of things. And just as I did in Cusco, I began to see this side. The notion of selling culture as a commodity has been something that haunts me wherever I go. It essentially ruins my ability to ignorantly enjoy traveling and forces me to look deeper into these places I go. In Siem Reap, I felt the sadness of the people. In a country, in a town, where the economy is based on rice and tourism, the people have no choice but to sell their history. Trips to Angkor Wat, paintings of Angkor Wat, Ankor Wat t shirts, Angkor Wat baseball caps, Angkor Wat toothbrush,The Angkor Wat burger (ok that last one isn’t real – but come on!); all of a sudden, this beautiful temple that defines such a big part of their culture and history, becomes a sales pitch. It becomes cheapened. I never expect to feel that I am doing something authentic when I go to a place like this. I know that the temple tours, and the traditional dance shows, and all these wonderful attractions are just a show; and when all of the tourists and travelers go to sleep, are the Khmer people still going to Angkor Wat and dancing, or is their shift over? Once the people because accustomed to selling this culture, when it comes back around, is it still something they enjoy? Is it still theirs? Is it something that they are still proud of as a ‘Khmer’ town with a ‘Khmer’ temple? I asked my driver what he thought about Angkor Wat, about the beauty of the temple and what it means to him. ‘I don’t care’ he said, ‘I see this everyday, it is nothing to me now’. So, I paid him 20 USD asked him to pick me up at 530 am the next day. I had to see it.    

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Angkor Wat = Machu Picchu + mosquitoes + Legends of the Hidden Temple + monkeys. There is not much I can say about the temples themselves, simply because I do not think words (or pictures for that matter) can adequately describe how amazing they are. I met my tuk tuk driver at 530, watched the sun rise as I drove into the temple complex, and spent the day traversing flooded temples and ancient complexes. Angkor Wat was everything that I had hoped it would be, everything that I expected, and well worth my trip to Asia. Please enjoy the photos below.

Football court at my guesthouse

Siem Reap 1day prior to complete flooding

Market at Siem Reap

My accomodations

Apsara Dance show