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Exile.. its strange, beautiful disfigurement. The experience of self-imposed exile, of estrangement and voluntary distance from the motherland—though that “voluntariness” was already coerced—remains a central part of my life, and of the North African Tunisian character in general. We have always been migrants by instinct. Whether we were Arabs of Banu Hilal and Banu Sulaym
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September 1998 I began to discover the world more fully at school, though my very first teacher had been my own mother. Still, I was learning to interact with those around me, and to stir up trouble. My earliest mischief took shape when I sat beside Hamed Yousfi, a close childhood friend. In the neighborhood
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Camus once wrote that the only true freedom is the brief moment a man experiences after being sentenced to death—and that suicide is the only real philosophical question. I carry these two lines with me on my way to work, through the desolate streets, blending into the flow of thousands of drifting human selves. The
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Mohamed Khelifi 