El Jem and Dougga

This week we hired a car for a couple of days and set off to do a bit of exploring with our friends Lauren and Olivier from Hephaistos, along with Olivier’s mum Marielle who was visiting from Paris. On Tuesday we headed south to the town of El Jem, famous for its Roman amphitheatre, the largest in Africa and third largest in the world. On either side of the road, vast groves of gnarled old olive trees stretched for miles; and it was olives that provided the original source of the wealth of this region, known as Thysdrus in Roman times.

The amphitheatre is quite astonishing, its gold sandstone arches rising suddenly out of the flat plain and dwarfing the ramshackle white buildings of the town. Its origins are uncertain, but tradition has it that one Gordien I, Proconsul of Ifriqiya was responsible for the construction of the colosseum. Apparently he was an ostentatious character, devoted to the arts and the games. The building was supposed to raise his political status, but it was considered a bit of a white elephant back in the day.

The colosseum was partly demolished by canon fire in 1850, finally ending its long history as a refuge for insurgents and rebels. Most memorable was the Berber heroine, "La Kahena" who used the amphitheatre as a fortress during the Muslim invasion.

The mosaics collected from Roman villas and housed in the museums in Sousse, Tunis and here in El Jem show the kinds of spectacles the crowds enjoyed 2000 years ago: fights by professional gladiators (the equivalent of WWF but with hideous weapons); combat between wild animals captured throughout Africa; and most popular of all, the feeding of Christians and prisoners of war to lions, tigers and leopards. Standing in the middle of the arena, I suddenly felt a new appreciation for TV and computer games as forms of popular entertainment.

After a tour of the excellent museum (included in the price of admission but about 500 meters away through the town) we relaxed over a lunch of chicken kebabs and brik a l’oeuf at the Café Elhana opposite the amphitheatre. The genial proprietor (who appeared to speak at least eight languages with some fluency) entertained us with his insights into the characteristics of tourists from different countries. The approaching tour group, he claimed, were Spanish: the men had thick wavy hair and the woman were small but not as hairy as the Portuguese (he was right, they were Spanish.) Germans always wear big expensive hiking shoes or sandals; Americans are nervous, always looking around; if someone has a gold tooth, he’s Russian. Australians? Apparently we have orangish skin and carry enormous backpacks (which Terry did!)

 

On the way back, we stopped briefly at the site of a pair of even older ruined amphitheatres, one built on top of the other. Some excavation work had been done here, but sadly the site was unprotected and covered in litter.

 

Wednesday saw an early start for the long drive to Dougga, which is up towards the north-western part of Tunisia. More olive groves, and frequent stops for small flocks of brown-faced sheep to be herded across the road by shepherds in hooded cloaks. Then suddenly, the ancient Roman city appears on a hilltop ahead, the columns of the Temple of Saturn silhouetted against the sky and the paved roads, still showing the grooves worn by chariot wheels, curving up the slope.

This is the best-preserved Roman site in Africa, probably because it is in the middle of nowhere and hasn’t been looted for building materials as elsewhere. Despite a bit of rain and wind, we had a fascinating wander around the town: villas complete with some of their mosaic floors, the impressive temples to Saturn and Juno, a Punic mausoleum and an awesome theatre. Apparently the acoustics were so good that my feeble rendition of Mark Antony’s speech from Julius Caesar (Friends, Romans, countrymen etc) was clearly audible in the cheap seats up the back.

 

It was incredible to be able to wander freely through the streets, imagining life 2000+ years ago. I even sat at the communal latrine and tried to picture what it would have been like to sit and have a friendly gossip with your neighbours while having a collective crap. Dougga isn’t widely publicised and it’s completely free of all the trappings of tourism, but don’t miss it if you’re ever in this part of the world.

                                                   communal latrine

Finally the rain and cold got the better of us and we headed back to a warm car and a long trip back to Monastir through pretty countryside and rundown towns. Apparently you don’t have to pay tax on homes and buildings until they are completed, so guess what? The country is filled with half-built structures. Typically people build a ground floor to live in, and have an incomplete second story. The result is profoundly unattractive – raw brick and concrete, piles of rubble everywhere – but that’s what you get. We had a quick stop for hot crepes with fresh cheese and harissa (yum) for 42c each, then back to the boat to rest and reflect on an amazing day.