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Are we living in a new Tunisia?

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The past several weeks, there has been a raise of awareness and consciousness touching the people of Tunisia. The call for cleaning campaigns and the support for 619 has been all over the place. An unexpected wave that we didn’t see coming. Yet, is this a good indicator or just a usual trend bound to fade in the coming days? 

It goes without saying that 2019 was the year of democracy for Tunisians. For the first time people felt responsible and conscious of what is going around. Their civic spirit was at its peak as people were sharing  pictures of their blue fingers. After the new president’s announcement, the spirit of a better Tunisia was more than ever needed. People were repeating that a new president is not the only way for the betterment of our country but what we actually need is a new state of mind, a new mentality. 

With this thought in mind, people created pages on Facebook with posts that show how national consumerism is vital, how the cleanliness of places is important and how much we need to change our behavior. With a new alerted mind Tunisians responded to the call.

 The question to be asked is: Is this for the long term? It is true that nothing made me happier and prouder than seeing youngsters cleaning trash from our streets and stations. Nothing made me more joyful than seeing artworks everywhere. (Even though for future paintings, you should ask a specialist before doing anything). But, I still have that feeling of doubt. It does not take only a  number of people nor a day for a country to become better. It needs days and regular attentiveness for everyone. My hope is that this awareness goes beyond hashtags,Instagram stories and Facebook posts to become a way of life. A Tunisian’s way of life!  

 

By Salma Alkhayat

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Maman, j’ai peur!

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Maman, j’ai peur.
Tout le monde me regarde.
Tout le monde veut que la catastrophe s’attarde. Maman, j’ai peur.
Il m’appelle d’une voix douce.
Ses mains avancent et me caressent. Tu m’as appris à être gentil
avec les gens qui sourient.
Alors je me tais.
Alors j’obéis. Maman, j’ai peur. Pourquoi ne m’as-tu pas appris
que mon corps m’appartient ?
Pourquoi ne m’as-tu pas appris
à dire : non, je te l’interdis ?
Maman, j’ai mal.
Mes jambes me disent de courir.
Ma gorge voudrait crier.
Mais le son se brise
contre le silence des grands.
Maman, tu m’entends ?
Où étais-tu
pendant ces deux longues semaines ? Je t’ai cherchée quatorze jours
dans chaque coin de la maison,
dans chaque bureau,
dans les yeux des responsables. Un enfant a besoin de sa mère
comme la mer a besoin de la lune
pour tenir debout
dans l’obscurité.
Maman, je me sens sale.
je porte en moi les empreintes du diables. Lave-moi.
Je veux retrouver mes vêtements d’innocence.
Mais ils ne sont plus là. Qui les a brûlés ?
Est-ce que tonton les a volés ?
Je ne veux parler qu’à toi.
Les adultes baissent les yeux.
Ils me disent d’attendre.
D’attendre encore.
D’attendre toujours. Mais tu es en retard, maman.
Tu me promets
de ne plus partir ?

Un texte de: Emna Harzallah

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