Tunisian Dreams Ch 06 The End

What happened in the previous chapters: Maartje is a Dutch woman in her thirties who after a nasty divorce tries to land back on her feet. She found herself a job as a teacher and is happy to volunteer on an Cathage exhibit in the local museum. When she races on her bicycle over the narrow cobblestone streets along the canals streets to be on time for the opening, a guy on a moped collides with her. The last thing she sees is a man calling out her name.

The next moment Maartje is in Tunisia in the 17

th

century. Her name is Sara and she is a slave in the household of the Bey. Sara is Dutch and was captured by the corsairs on her way to the Indies. She is the governess of the Bey's children as the eunuchs considered her too old to be one of the Bey's haremgirls fit for his bed. However Sara and the Bey become good friends and in the end fall in love.

Then Maartje wakes up and does not recognise her surroundings.

-0-

Maartje blinked. Where was she? She seemed to be on a bed. A handsome man was sitting in a chair next to her bed and smiled.

"Waar ben ik?" asked Maartje.

"I have no idea what you just asked," said the guy. "I do not speak Dutch."

She wondered who he was. He seemed friendly. He reminded her a bit of the Bey she had been dreaming about. Had she dreamed?

This guy looked Southern European. Dark curls falling over his brow, reaching the collar of his shirt under a woollen sweater. Reading glasses low on his nose. Warm brown eyes with long lashes. She was sure she did not know him. But somehow he looked familiar. He also reminded her of the Bey. Less harsh.

"Where am I? Who are you?" she croaked.

"Maartje you had an accident in front of the museum. Some guy on a moped crashed into you. You have a broken ankle and a concussion according to the doctors. You are in hospital now. I am Selim. Selim the professor you helped with the exhibit. The guy from Tunisia you mailed with and Skyped with. Remember me?"

"Hospital? You are professor Hassan? You are so young!"

A smile lit up his face.

"You are the first person who tell me that I am young at 49."

"I had never seen a picture of you and you said your wife and daughter were teachers like me and you are a professor and the director of the museum in Carthage... Somehow I pictured you a grey haired scholar."

"Let this old man go and find your nurse to tell you are awake now." Still smiling he put a book he had been reading on the chair and walked out.

Maartje looked around. Yes hospital room. Her leg was in a plaster. When she tried to wiggle her toes it hurt like hell. Her head did not feel that good either.

The professor came back with a young female doctor.

"Hello Maartje. Your fiancé told me you woke up. How are you feeling?"

Huh? Fiancé? She was not engaged was she?

She focussed on the doctor again.

"You have been lucky Maartje. You did not hit the curb or was shoved into the canal unconscious as that both could have been lethal. I am sure your head hurts. But that will cure itself by a few weeks of rest. No tv or reading the first few days and taking it easy later on. Your leg will heal too but it was a nasty break so it needs to be in a cast for six weeks and no walking on it. We will check how you are doing tomorrow morning and if you are fine by then you can go home. Do you have any questions so far?"

Maartje just shook her head.

"Ok then I will leave the two of you alone. If there is anything just beep for the nurse ok?"

When she had left Maartje focussed on the professor again.

"Professor why is she saying I am your fiancé? I am not am I?"

"I have been naughty," he grinned. "I knew from our chats you had no family so as soon as I had delivered my speech I went to this hospital to see if I could help you. They asked if I was family as only family was allowed in. I just went for it and lied I was your fiancé. They said I should sit here and talk to you as that helped with regaining consciousness. So I sat here and read you stories about Tunisian history as that was the only book I had with me."

"Oh," thought Maartje. "So that is why I was dreaming of the Bey of Tunis."

She could not help herself and started to laugh and then gripped her temples. "Ouch that hurts."

"You have been lucky Maartje. When you were there, slumped on that iced street, I was afraid you were dying."

Yes now she remembered him calling her name.

Suddenly she started to cry. The tension being too much. How could she cope with her walk up apartment when she could not even climb a stair?

He took her hand in both of his. "Maartje what can I do to help?"

"Nothing," she sniffed. "I should be grateful that things did not end up more serious. But I have no clue how to cope with all of this. My house. It is all those floors up and no elevator."

He let go of her hand and walked to the cupboard and got himself a wad of paper tissues. He seemed to be deep in thoughts.

"Here," he said in his French sounding English. "Come dry your eyes. We will cope with this. You come with me and we will take care of you. You can sleep on the sofa in my study. No stairs."

"Are you offering to take me home to your family so your wife and you can nurse me?"

"Not my wife. My daughter and me. My wife died in a carcrash when my daughter was three. I am not joking Maartje. Here you are new in town without family. Aisha and I have a large house all to ourselves. We can care for you when you cannot walk and you can use your time there to study. I have a car and can take you to the museum and the Carthage digs. In six weeks you will be fine again and this accident will just be a terrible memory that's all. Just think about it overnight. I will see you tomorrow right?"

He smiled his warm smile and left the room.

Maartje was thinking about all of what had happened. To be honest his idea might sound a bit outlandish for people who had just met, but the professor and her had been talking to each other for months online. Yes mainly business but still, he felt like a friend. Would it be dangerous to just follow a stranger to an African country? On the other hand the professor and his daughter would be of great help.

-0-

In the morning Maartje had her mind made up. It might be a tat adventurous to say the least but she was not going to pass this opportunity to see a country she had been fantasising to visit since her study at the university.

The professor was a man of standing and he had a living in, grown up daughter and in all his correspondence over the museum he had always been a gentleman. Never had he flirted or been inappropriate. His warm eyes spoke of a warm and caring person.

So why not?

Another young female doctor came in while she was having breakfast.

"I am going to do some tests Maartje and if they are all fine you can go home at noon."

Maartje realised she had no way to contact the professor.

But around 10.00 am he arrived with some bags from a cheap store.

"I was thinking that you had no cloths here and I had of course no keys to your house; so I just bought some cheap things so at least you had something instead of that hospital shirt."

How thoughtful. The bag held a long sleeved t-shirt and some sweatpants, socks and granny underwear.

She looked up and noticed how he had trouble to keep the grin off his face. When she started to laugh he joined.

"I thought that would always fit."

They laughed even harder.

"Well it sounds someone feels a lot better," grinned a nurse in the door opening. "I came to tell you are fit enough to go home. Make sure you make an appointment in 6 weeks to have the cast removed."

"Can Maartje stay here for another hour so I can go and get her stuff? She lives in an apartment some floors up and cannot go there."

"So what are you doing then for the next few weeks?," asked the nurse.

"I am staying with him for the meantime, said Maartje.

"If I were you," said the nurse, "I would be very possessive of such a fiancé Maartje. He is not only hot as hell but also a good guy."

They all smiled but just two out of three knew why it was so funny.

-0-

Maartje and the professor made a list of what she would need in Tunisia and where he could find that in her house. He also booked a flight for her and rescheduled his own. In the early hours of the afternoon they were en route to Tunis.

From Tunis it was half an hour by cab to the village of Sidi Bou Said where the professor has his house. She did not see much of the landscape as by then it was dark. The house however was an old traditional building.

Aicha turned out an enthusiast 25 year old who strongly supported her dad's rash decision to help out his Dutch colleague. She and the elderly housekeeper changed the divan in the professor's study into a comfortable bed.

The next day Maartje more or less spent resting. The professor and his daughter had both gone to work and the old lady did not speak English. She however provided Maartje with flowers in her room and some delicious, light food.

In the evening when all had returned home she was introduced to a young man called Malik who was the man Aicha planned to marry in three months. He was an eyesurgeon at the hospital in Tunis. He berated Maartje and the professor for putting her in a plane as that was very unwise with a headtrauma. Maartje thought the professor looked like a naughty boy being given a lecture. Malik fired some questions but when he was sure all was fine the group spent an hour drinking coffee with her.

-0-

Weeks passed in comfortable rest. The professor, who had insisted to be called just Selim, had left her with a local mobile phone full of music, audio books and even a course of Arabic. Aicha and Maartje dutifully did all her exercises. But after a few weeks in one room Maartje longed to see something else.

"I think that concussion is over by now," said Selim. "It is just that cast now that keeps you locked up. If you do not mind the inconvenience I can lift you and take you to the terrace so you can enjoy the views."

She was impressed by his strength when he just lifted her up and carried her out of the house to a rocky outcrop overlooking the bay. The private terrace was walled and the walls covered in Bougainville. Some traditional seats were arrange under an orange tree. The view down over the marina with the hazy mountains on the other side of the bay and the white and blue houses of the village itself was spectacular. Somehow Maartje had the feeling of deja vue.

Selim and Maartje spent the whole Saturday afternoon chatting outside in the sun. In summer this would probably be a very warm spot to sit in the middle of the afternoon, but in the winter months it felt like a Dutch summer afternoon. They drank mint tea and ate small pastries. She really enjoyed it all.

The next say Selim took her out in his car. He drove them along the laguna. First to a large hilltop crowned by a church.

"This is Cathage. Well where Carthage once was. The hill is called the Bursa. The French built this church and the building next to it was the monastery. They were the first archaeologists here. Now the church is desecrated and all the monks left with independence. The building is now the museum where I work. I will take you there later ok."

She was too busy to take all things in. She remembered dreaming of a Carthage but that had been so different as it had been created just by her fantasy.

Then they drove towards the coast again. Downhill. They passed a villa that used to be the palace of the former president.

"I will show you the ruins of the Roman bathhouse next, but we have to come back there as soon as you can walk as it is in the middle of an impressive garden."

He parked the car in the carpark and pointed to large clumps of masonry. Maartje felt dizzy. This... this... this she had seen before. Had she not? Had she seen that for real once centuries ago or in a book somehow and forgotten?

"Maartje are you ok? Shall we go back?"

Selim has started the car and drove them back home. In the silence of her room Maartje wondered what had gotten into her. Of course she must have seen it in a studybook in the past and the image had somehow embedded itself in her subconscious.

She explained it all towards Selim. How she had been overwhelmed with a feeling of deja vue. How that happened to her sometimes since her accident. Selim had said he knew what she meant. That funnily he had had that feeling the moment he saw her laying on the street. As if he had met her before.

-0-

Selim and Maartje developed a strong friendship. They would drive the car to Tunis or he would bring her to work and let her do some work on an archaeological find. It also started to feel very normal that he had to carry her where she could not walk. She started to dream about him.

After the obligatory six weeks Selim took her to the hospital in Tunis to have her cast removed. She was advised however to use a cane for a few extra weeks though so her ankle would have I easy for a while.

In the evening Maartje told Selim and Aicha that that meant she should return to The Netherlands again. She had sick leave from her job at the school but now the cast was off her employer would expect her back at work shortly.

Aicha, Malik, Selim and Maartje decided to tour the country for a few days before she had to return. With Maartje in the back seat of the car with her leg on a few pillows and Malik in the uncomfortable extra seat in the back of the Jeep they enjoyed visiting Sousse and the old Roman amphitheatre in El Djem. That certainly looked familiar to Maartje.

With the young lovers climbing the upper floors Maartje and Selim waited in the shade on the lowest bench.

"Are you enjoying yourself Maartje?," asked Selim.

She nodded enthusiastically.

A warm feeling seemed to spread all around her. The laughing of the schoolchildren who were on an excursion at the amphitheatre, the sun, the warmth of Selim's thigh next to hers. She looked at him. He was wise, calm but also fun to be with and he made her knees weak with longing. Could she dare and ask him to take her to his bed? No she would not dare. She was afraid of how he would react when he did not want to sleep with her at all.

Or would he? They had plans to proceed towards the inner part of the country and stay the night at a hotel. She had seen him order two rooms in a hotel in Douz for the night. Two rooms, four people. Would he make a move in one of her last days with him?

-0-

The continued their trip along the coast but then bent towards the arid inland parts of Tunisia. They had a stop at a place where people used to live in caves. One of the Star Wars movies was shot there. They however decided to forgo the other Star Wars set so they had more time in the desert.

Late in the afternoon they arrived at a spot where the yellow sanddunes of the Sahara where visible for the first time. Some local young men where offering camelrides to the German tourists in a touringcar.

"Hey Maartje have you ever been on a camel?" asked Selim.

"No never. Have you?"

"Oh yes. I did some desert treks. In Algeria you can find interesting, centuries old rock paintings but the area is too dangerous now. Come on go and have your Lawrence of Arabia moment!"

Maartje insisted that if she had to ride a camel they all had. And all of them enjoyed a moment of folly. Maartje however thought riding a camel felt great. The whole rocking motion was great.

"I could do this for hours!"

"I can assure you that after hours and hours of sun and sand you would be quite sick of it," insisted Selim.

Tired they cecked into the hotel in Douz. It was a small oasis town but the hotel was quite big. Maartje did not know if she had to feel disappointed that she was roomed with Aicha. Aicha had seen her surprise and explained that it was not done for her and Malik to sleep in the same room now they were not married yet. She seemed to think it was normal for the women to share a room while they men did the same.

In the very early hours of the next morning they left to see the sun rise over the Chott al Jerid, the big salt lake in the middle of the country. Maartje did not see any water. A crust of salt covered the lake. However she was warned people could sink into its depths in minutes. Luckily nowadays a real road crossed the salt sea.

They visited a couple of small oasis towns. The large palm grooves with all the smaller scrubs growing under the trees. Adobe villages around springs. After a long drive they ended up in Kerouan, a holy city with an impressive mosque and very friendly people.

"So that is where the Bey went," thought Maartje and then berated herself for thinking nonsense.

Along the highway up north she admired the cactuses that were used to fence the fields. Their fruits covering the prickly plants. Those prickly pears were so great to eat!

Somehow she had fallen asleep the moment they passed Tunis. Only waking up a bit when Selim carried her to her bed. Did she dream that he kissed her on her forehead?

-o-

The next day Aicha, Malik, the old housekeeper and Selim accompanied her to the airport in Tunis.

Maartje felt tears stinging in her eyes.

"Oh Maartje do try to come to my wedding. I know you have to ask your boss but it would be so great to have you here."

"I will try. I would love to," said Maartje. To be honest she wished she did not have to leave. Holland meant an empty apartment while here she had been part of a real family.

Selim was just silent and quite grim. He had refused any compensation of costs he made on her behalf. He just repeated Aicha's invitation before waving her off. Maartje locked herself into the toilets after the check in and the border control because tears refused to stay inside any longer. She so wished she had had the courage to tell that man she loved him to bits.

-0-

Life resumed its course. Maartje mailed Selim to let him know she had arrived back home safely. A few days later he had called on Skype to ask how she was doing. She missed him terribly and wondered if he missed her as much.

Her leg and head had healed and she was teaching classes again. Aicha wanted to know if she could come to the wedding. Selim called and asked point blank if money was the problem and that he was willing to buy the ticket in that case. Maartje explained it was more that her school had frowned on her wanting to take days off so soon after resuming work. Selim suggested that if they would allow her the Friday afternoon off, she could fly to Tunis and he could come pick her up at the airport while the women were busy with their henna-night, the Tunisian version of a hen party. The wedding would be on Saturday and when she would jump in the plane on Sunday she would be back at work on time Monday morning.

"Just tell them it is your future stepdaughter who is marrying," he laughed. "We used the fiancé thing before did we not. Come on, my dear, just do something daring!"

-o-

Surprisingly the school did agree on an afternoon off. When Maartje noticed Selim at the airport she was surprised to see a man in a long white robe with a red felt hat on his head. He looked so different.

"Selim is that you?"

His smile lit up his whole face and he just held his arms wide. She flung herself into them. His chest smelled of spices and clean fabric and his own smell.

"I am so glad to see you," she said looking up to his face. He just kissed her. She felt a blush flame on her face. Oh wow this felt so good!

"I missed you too, my sweet," Selim said. "Come let me take you home."

He grabbed her luggage in one hand and her hand in the other and set off towards his car. She was too shocked to speak.

As if nothing had happened he asked her about the flight. He also asked her if she would like to dress into some traditional garb for the wedding as most family and friends would. When she said she would have loved that but had no clue how to get that the night before the wedding he grabbed his mobile phone and dialled a number. It turned out that one of the shops in Tunis was willing to stay open a bit longer so she could choose something.