"I'm sorry, but there's nothing we can do"
and
“I appreciate you’re in a hurry, but you’ll just have to come back after the weekend and collect it all then”
In my lexicon of phrases-to-fret-about these two refrains have a top-five placing – particularly when in the first instance they relate to lost filming-tapes, and secondly, to our impounded camera equipment.
It’s Saturday afternoon at Tunis Airport, and cameraman Ian Serfontein and I have arrived in Tunisia to film at Kairouan, a modestly-sized town 200 kilometers south of the capital. Widely acknowledged as the fourth most important Islamic city in the world (after Mecca, Medina and Jerusalem), Kairouan is home to one of the earliest architectural marvels of the Islamic faith, a mosque whose foundations go back to the 7th century.

"I know of three religious buildings in the world that have given me the unexpected and shattering emotion that was aroused in me by this barbaric and astonishing monument: Mont Saint-Michel, Saint Mark's in Venice, and the Palatine Chapel in Palermo. These three are reasoned, studied, and admirable work of great architects sure of their effects, pious of course, but artistic first, inspired as much or more by their love of line, of form, and of decoration, as by their love of God. But at Kairouan it is something else. A race of fanatics, nomads scarcely able to build walls, coming to a land covered with ruins left by their predecessors, picked up here and there whatever seemed most beautiful to them, and, in their own turn, with these debris all of one style and order, raised, under the guidance of heaven, a dwelling for their God, made of pieces torn from crumbling towns, but as perfect as the purest conceptions of the greatest workers in stone."But neither my limited charm nor great French texts can move the customs officials. Our equipment remains captive.
Fortunately, help is at hand. The ominous sounding – but incredibly helpful – TECA (Tunisian External Communication Agency) smooths our passage; tapes are found, equipment is released, and we find ourselves in the company of Adel, our fixer for the next 24 hours.
We’re soon on the road – with our driver, Mohammed - and within minutes, Adel and I are engrossed in discussing Islam and Christianity. Adel tells me that a few months previously, a Swedish producer had come out for a few days filming with him, and had returned home a confirmed Muslim. I can’t claim impartiality, but as a committed Christian I’m delighted to be learning more about Islam and keen to exchange texts and world-views. The debate goes on and on and on.
A pause in the theological discussion is offered by a road-side stop, featuring delicious, freshly grilled lamb and local breads. Adel tells me that it’s not unusual for Tunisians to eat lamb three or four times a week. I’m overtaken with envy. Finally, we arrive at our hotel at about 10 am.

Because neither Ian nor I are Muslims, we are unable to film within the prayer hall but our friends at TECA have kindly arranged for a cameraman from Tunis to drive down and help us out – I’m yet to see the rushes but I’m hoping that Ahmed will have captured the large wooden minbar (apparently, the oldest in existence, and dated at 862-63 CE) and the stunning mihrab – decorated with tiles, specially imported from Iraq.
After a couple of hours, Ahmed returns to Tunis and Ian and I are left to film the courtyard, exterior details and some further shots of Kairouan. It’s a memorable first day and that evening we enjoy another lamb dinner before retiring to bed early.


A late lunch and a further interview accomplished we drive out of town to capture a final sunset over Kairouan. The only sadness of the trip is, over another dinner of excellent lamb, watching Tunisia crash out of the African Cup of Nations, losing to Cameroon 3-2 in extra-time. Ian and I triy to console our hosts with England’s loss against Wales in the Six Nations. (Seb Grant)
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