海角大神

In Tunis, artisans and residents rally to rescue treasured old city

It takes one glance to tell all is not well in the Medina.

The walled, historic old city of the Tunisian capital 鈥� once marked by bustling markets and streams of people hustling between the shops, homes, and government offices along its narrow streets and hidden passageways 鈥� is nearly empty.

You would be forgiven for mistaking noon on a Monday for 6 a.m. on a Sunday.

鈥淲e are waiting for nothing,鈥� a chachiya聽hatmaker says as he shuffles boxed hats from one wall of his shop to the other. 鈥淲e just show up for a few hours out of habit. No one is coming.鈥�

The Medina鈥檚 shuttered shops serve as a stern warning that the pandemic and a recession are threatening to undo the old city鈥檚 rich tapestry of families and artisans who have made it their home for centuries.

But not, it appears, without a fight.

Banding together for the first time, Medina business owners and families are trying to reintroduce the UNESCO World Heritage Site to Tunisians and the world, sharing its secrets and inviting people to take part in its history 鈥� and save its identity in the process.

M鈥檇inti, or 鈥淢y Medina,鈥� the brainchild of Leila Ben Gacem, a social entrepreneur and advocate for Tunisia鈥檚 artisans, is an initiative that has united two dozen boutique hoteliers, artisans, and restaurant owners into an economic lobby to advocate for the old city and search for new ways of resilience.

鈥淏y ourselves, we cannot survive the pandemic鈥檚 effects,鈥� says Ms. Ben Gacem, who is also a Medina hotelier. 鈥淏ut together we can make changes to improve the Medina.鈥�

Artisans take stock

In normal times, the Medina makes its first impression with its artisans.

For seven centuries, hatmakers, cobblers, silver and goldsmiths, and tailors have occupied craft-specific streets 鈥� separate ecosystems within the maze-like Medina.

But with no business, unable to afford monthly rent of 600-1,200 dinars ($210-$420), many of these artisans are now packing it up for good, ending several generations of craftsmanship and abandoning shops their great-grandfathers started.

In their place are popping up cafes, cigarette stands, betting outlets, and fast-food joints 鈥� their chrome and blue plastic storefronts incongruous with the World Heritage Site鈥檚 cobblestone streets and wrought-iron windows.

鈥淐oronavirus is causing urban degradation of the Medina. So many artisans have had to leave and generations of knowledge are being lost,鈥� says Ms. Ben Gacem.

One artisan facing pressure is perfumer Zouhaier Ghorghar, whose Zitouna Perfumery is around the corner from the historic Al-Zaytuna Mosque. Already behind on his rent, if he cannot make a $200 payment soon, he faces eviction.

鈥淢y profession and the Medina are part of me. Leaving it would be slow suicide,鈥� Mr. Ghorghar says.聽

Silversmith Mohammed Sidomou, whose family鈥檚 shop has stood on the narrow street of the birket al-fidhah (pool of silver) market for a century, is one of the fortunate few to have survived. The family owns the shop.

He describes the pandemic as the 鈥済reatest challenge鈥� the Medina has seen in his four decades in business.

鈥淲e have been hit by a revolution, terrorism, instability, but there was always some economic activity to keep us going. With the pandemic, everyone is affected, no one can buy,鈥� he says, polishing a silver bracelet.聽

He motions to the shuttered silver-shops across the way.

鈥淚t breaks my heart to see the Medina turned into shuttered storefronts. It鈥檚 as if the Medina is losing its soul.鈥�

Deepening impact

Compounding troubles are the pandemic-induced jump in international shipping costs, inflation, and the devaluation of the Tunisian dinar, making it logistically difficult or financially prohibitive for artisans to get the raw materials they crafted, pounded, and molded into Tunisian heritage crafts for centuries.

In 2014, the last comprehensive survey of Medina artisans, there were 500 artisan workshops including 100 cobblers, 85 ironsmiths, 61 goldsmiths, 54 silversmiths, 42 carpenters, 11 chachiya hatmakers, among others. It is estimated that 25% to 30% have left.

The economic downturn is also fraying a unique community of 20,000 people who live in the Medina, including working- and middle-class families and transplants from rural villages.

Before, residents say, families, shop owners, and artisans supported one another during lean months and years, such as the 2010 revolution or 2015 ISIS attacks, knowing full well that when their own fortunes changed, they could rely on an informal safety net to cushion their fall.

Neighbors would loan a few dinars, share groceries, and cook for each other鈥檚 weddings. Shop owners and artisans whose businesses were flush would divert customers to other craftsmen they knew were facing a rough patch.

It was a centuries-old wisdom that together, the Medina could ride out any storm.

鈥淲ith the pandemic, everyone is suffering; there is no business or family that is doing well and can share their good fortune,鈥� says Mohamed Ali Dweiri, a 26-year-old Medina resident and hotel worker.

鈥淧eople have become more selfish; no one is helping each other. This is the biggest change to the Medina I have seen in my lifetime, and it鈥檚 sad.鈥�

My Medina

Enter M鈥檇inti.

With no foreign tourism, the joint initiative鈥檚 first priority was finding ways to attract Tunisians to the Medina.

M鈥檇inti developed the first interactive map of the Medina 鈥� its sites, sights, and businesses 鈥� and an online portal offering a guide for visitors on where to stay, eat, and shop.

And since October 2021, M鈥檇inti has hosted weekend activities for families, inviting Tunisians into the district鈥檚 historic homes and businesses for culinary classes and workshops with artisans 鈥� such as carpenters or cobblers 鈥� offering a glimpse into the centuries of knowledge of the maalam, or craft master.

Hundreds of Tunisians have attended activities on culinary history, family histories of the historic dars, centuries-old grand villas, and the ordinary people who made up the Medina.

鈥淓ach activity is bringing 100 guests to the Medina. They are learning there are days鈥� worth of sights to see, they are appreciating the traditional crafts we fight to keep alive,鈥� says Mr. Ghorghor, the perfumer. 鈥淲ord-of-mouth is our best hope.鈥�

Historic homes

This solidarity is giving hope to those who are sacrificing everything to keep the Medina alive,聽like Hedi Belhouane.

Last year the 40-year-old stepped in to save Dar El Medina, his ancestral home-turned-boutique hotel behind the Medina鈥檚 Kasbah, after his uncle abruptly shuttered the hotel at the beginning of the pandemic in 2020.

Amid lockdowns, he poured his money and 16-hour days into reviving the dar where he was born and raised.

鈥淚 knew if we didn鈥檛 revive this guesthouse, it will run into disuse, bank mortgage payments would become too difficult to keep up with, and there would be pressure to sell,鈥� he says from Dar El Medina鈥檚 reception room. The room, featuring hand-painted tiles, was once his grandparent鈥檚 apartment, where the family gathered for Friday lunches.

鈥淭he Medina is my history, my family鈥檚 history. We would lose not only a house, but lose who we are.鈥�

After reopening last September, bookings finally picked up in December when it seemed that the pandemic was lifting, and Dar El Medina鈥檚 fortunes were reversing. Then the omicron variant hit.

But Medina residents vow to fight on.

鈥淒espite the challenges, we must keep the Medina open to Tunisians and guests,鈥� says Ms. Ben Gacem, whose Dar Ben Gacem hotels, in historic dars, have evolved into cultural and meeting spaces as well as lodging, maintaining jobs for 13 Medina residents.

鈥淧eople change, come, go, and die, but stones remain,鈥� Mr. Belhouane says as he pats the wall of his dar鈥檚 courtyard. 鈥淭hese walls will tell our stories long after we are gone. That is why we must preserve these stones at any cost.鈥�