Qued Zarga (Tunisia)

March 11th 2009

“This is a very special day”, and breathing it into words seems like an understatement to say the very least. Today my sister Patricia and I concluded a journey that began many years ago, as far back as a little boy without memories of his own, the final leg of this journey began this morning in Tunis as I drove the rental car out through the crowded streets to the outskirts of bedlam, getting lost a few times along the way. It seemed like the only way I could find my way was by chance, and it actually took longer to get out of the city than it took to get the rest of the way to Qued Zarga.

The new highway west from Tunis to Qued Zarga was amazing, 110 KLMS and all alone all the way, a toll road the equivalent of a dollar twenty five Canadian. The highway actually ended at Qued Zarga and it was possible to see the cemetery from the exit toll booth. It was beautiful to see it from a distance positioned on the northeast bank of the river, which was misty blue against the clear sky.

Getting closer and closer had a sedating effect after all the pondering that had been done over the years, not a bit like the hot sweltering desert I had imagined. What a welcome surprise to find lush rolling countryside all around, mostly olive trees row on row and some orange trees. It comforted me in a pleasant way to think that perhaps my dad’s last days on earth were spent in such a picturesque place, maybe even enjoying some fresh oranges now and then? It was nowhere near the gloomy end I had conjured up in my mind and it made me feel much better. And I must say that it was nice to learn that Qued Zarga meant “River Blue”…

As I drove the short distance through the olive grove from the main road, the sun was bright and the cloudless sky was unanimous. The light skipped across the still surface of Qued Zarga and onto the distant gravestones as I maneuvered the car over the rough sandy road to the cemetery gate.

As far as I could see there were only the two of us accept for a few farmers shading themselves under a tree nearby. Pat and I were very quiet on entering the site, the same way you would enter a church. We found ourselves whispering to each other as we very lightly walked around, it was like we were in a dream and we were both in it together. Even now as I write about it back in Tunis I’m still there in the dream…

We stayed in the heat of the sun, burned slightly from the early exposure to the UV rays, wandering like lost souls all around the site. I strolled up and down the rows and then up along the old tractor road through the olive grove, looking back to the cemetery for a different angle and photo for later. I will be looking at the photos over and over so I thought I’d better take as many as I could. I know that other folk will not want to see everything from every angle but I knew that I would, so I clicked away. Both Pat and I had our private moments with dad where personal thoughts were shared with him, forever knowing where dad is now. Here, in this very special place where he’s been resting for over fifty years, on the sandy and green hillside sloping gently down to the River Blue.

I will always remember the fisherman in his flat bottom boat gently drifting through my view, the two shy dogs keeping a watchful eye on our movements. The young farm workers still resting under an olive tree in the heat of the day. The brilliant sunshine cast over us like a shroud and the donkey on the crest of the hill that couldn’t care less…

When the time came to go the transition was not easy, it had taken us so long to make this journey and now we had to go already, for me this is when the real sadness hit the air, and I guess I haven’t left, not all of me anyway. A big piece of me stayed behind as we drove away seemingly as slowly as possible, stopping at different points to take another look back. A piece of my father left with me also and I can feel a presence with me now that I never felt before, I suppose this could be what they call closure but in a strange way it felt more like a beginning, maybe it’s both. Anyway I think I understand what it all means now and I’m content with it. I love you dad, now I know where you are, and at last we have been together…

I also put a small bottle of whiskey on his gravestone which I later poured on the ground over him, and I brought back twenty colourful pebbles from on top of dad’s grave so I can look at them and feel closer if I get further away again…

Postscript: My daughter Kelly asked me to put some daisies by his grave and I did that for her. She also asked me to thank him for her life, I did that too.

Posted By: John Ellis