The Day Tragedy Struck: A Nation in Distress

Hammamet, Friday, June 26, 2015 (morning)

On Friday morning, I was on a bus traveling to Sousse, a famous coastal resort and the city I lived in for 8 years as a child.  I was going to meet the family of another childhood friend. A Tunisian radio station was playing a song by popular Christian Lebanese singer Feyrouz, when the music stopped abruptly to make an announcement.  I was taking part in an animated conversation about a provocative Tunisian theater play called “Da‘ish”  (the Arab acronym for ISIS), when my Tunisian counterpart and I realized the sudden silence on the bus. We finally tuned in and understood that a terror attack had left 24 tourists killed on the beach of the Hotel Imperial in Sousse. In the following hours the death count increased up to 38, and the number of individuals injured was estimated to be higher than 40. 

The shock was such that we didn’t realize the bus had come to a full stop. Within minutes, dozens of other vehicles queued behind us. Nobody knew what to think. Half an hour later, cars began to come from the opposite lane. Drivers were honking their horns and shouting 'Turn around!' and 'The road to Sousse is blocked.' Our bus driver offered to unload passengers who wished to wait. After about 10 passengers got off, the bus made a u-turn and drove back to Hammamet. I joined the rest of the passengers gathered around the conductor in the back of the bus. One older man cried and kept saying 'Tunisia is gone!' He was working as a night watchman in a hotel in Hammamet and expected the attacks to scare tourists away from Tunisia. In a country where more than 15% of the economy relies on monies generated by the travel and hospitality business, the watchman’s worries seemed justified.  It turned out that while we were talking, a Belgian airplane about to land with more tourists had flown back to Brussels. Major European travel agencies announced mass cancellations within hours of the attack. A younger woman shouted 'Where are the police when you need them. They got a TD 200,000 bonus (about $100) after the revolution which we the people carried on our shoulders. But when danger comes to us, they are nowhere to be seen.' Actually, all touristic sites are surrounded by road blocks manned by Police and National Guard forces. But no one thought of placing security right on the beaches populated by tourists. Finally, the conductor who had stayed quiet for most of the heated exchange, said in a calm voice 'We are losing more than tourism, we are losing our country.' That line could be heard again and again on the various Tunisian TV shows that followed the attacks.  Most Tunisians are concerned that after the disintegration of Iraq, Libya, and Syria, their country could be next. 

On our return to Hammamet, I saw dozens of Tunisians wrapped with their country’s flag, as if they wanted to say that they were prepared to defend Tunisia from attacks with their own bodies. The one word that kept recurring for most of the day was irhabi (terrorist), not jihadi or shahid (martyr). When asked about the word choice, Tunisians answer that calling cold-blooded killers jihadis or martyrs was conferring dignity on people who have none. The true Jihad is the struggle against one’s own passions. Anyway, a genuine Muslim does not kill the innocent. Nor is there a qur’anic promise that he will go to paradise for committing such an act. 

Later on that day, Tunisian President Beji Caid El Sebsi stated on National TV that a small country like Tunisia could not be expected to fight a global terrorist movement on its own. Only a partnership with major international powers could yield results. It is hard to disagree with these words, especially since the Tunisian killings were coordinated with same-day attacks near Lyon (France) and Kuwait. It is quite obvious that the Tunisian attack was part of a more encompassing plan hatched out outside the country.

(An earlier version of this text was posted by Honolulu Star-Advertiser's Pat Gee on her facebook page.)