The Rabbi in Djerba

By May Chreideh

I woke up to her text. It’s been 4 years, and she’s still asking the same question. I

remember that day like it was yesterday, the way she tugged the knife at my neck while

having her tears run down my shoulder. She never wanted to kill me, she could never.

She tried to reincarnate a tiny devil so he could tear my skin apart, and when I escaped

the devil, I tripped and fell into one’s arms; they were cold, I wish I had left sooner.

But at least I left, I left and didn’t look back. I knew something lay between the layers of

my skin, and I knew it had to escape one day. I knew there was something for me to

unravel, but everything that was meant to be hidden would either unravel itself or

remain concealed forever. I remember the last encounter I had with her as clearly as our

last conversation on the phone. I was on fire with a one-way ticket to Djerba, Tunisia.

“If you have something you want to say to me, say it,” I asked. “You can’t tug a knife at

my throat because of something you’ve done.”

“Nothing, there’s nothing you need to know,” she said, I imagined her smiling through

the phone whilst admiring herself in the mirror. I flinched on the other end, not out of

fear but out of disappointment; she was my best friend.

“You can always tell me before it’s too late.” I hissed as I tugged harder on the ticket, my

flight was in a few hours. She hung up as a response, and I was with my backpack at

the door. The flight from Montreal to Tunisia felt like a deep breath – I didn’t know anyone in

Djerba, but it looked like a place that would embrace me with warmth since Montreal’s

cold had only been shaking my bones and drawing stellar stars on my skin. I didn’t

know why I chose this city to be exact, but I remember hearing about it.

“One day, we will wake up in Djerba, and we’ll explore the mosques, the churches and

the synagogues. There’s this one synagogue plated in blue, and I want to visit it and

kiss you there between the tiles of blue, it’ll be the most forbidden kiss of all time. We

will run and knock on every blue door and then sleep on the beach. Believe me, all I

want is to be with you, in Djerba.”

This was the last thing I heard from the love of my life before he died. I don’t know why I

booked a one-way ticket, or maybe I know the answers to all the questions I am asking,

but I don’t want to answer them because – The truth will only unravel itself if we don’t tie

the knots. The day I landed in Djerba, I looked for the love of my life everywhere. I

imagined him floating on the water or buried somewhere on the beach. I ran to the

synagogue, but the rabbi didn’t let me in; I wondered why, I even spoke in fluent

Tunisian as if I was a native, but he saw Montreal through my eyes, he saw my lover, he

saw my best friend who plotted my death; he saw the truth that I was running from.

“I didn’t come all the way here for nothing,” I said through gritted teeth. I was getting

frustrated, starving, dehydrated, looking for my lover, the truth, and everything but

myself. The rabbi grinned at my frustration. I didn’t take it personally because I would

never see him again. I received another message from Mary, my ex-best friend; she

always texts during the worst times. “Your impulsiveness brought you here; your

answers are not here.”

Looking deeply into his eyes, the truth was there somewhere. My eyes travelled from

his face to his arms to his feet; I wasn’t sure if he was a rabbi or just some Tunisian

fraudulent. He could be anything, but he couldn’t know anything about my lover or Mary.

A tattoo of a lighthouse caught my eye, “Can rabbis have tattoos?” I asked, he furrowed

his eyebrows and then trailed his gaze down my soul, I was covered in lies. “Your

answers are not in Le Ghriba if that’s what you came for.”

“There’s the thing about Tunisians: every phrase, question, and emotion is a test. You’re

always tested, you can never know one right answer because they wouldn’t know it

themselves. They can lure you into the deepest levels of hell and tell you it’s heaven. Nti

in Paradise ya zin, and in paradise, you are your truth. Those who want you away from

Le Ghriba are far from the truth.”

Standing still whilst facing me, I took a few steps back to answer my phone. Mary will

never get off my back anytime soon until she slits my throat, perhaps. As the sun crept

behind us, it was timid, and I was on the verge of giving up. “Once you put your foot in

Djerba, you will have new truths to look for rather than the ones you left behind. And

perhaps some things must remain hidden for you to chase the sun. Have you ever

heard of someone who turned their back on the sun? People die, and some people

want you dead, but some people want you to live and dive in the water and soak in the

sun until you no longer feel your skin. Create a new truth to look for, if you want, you

could be the truth no one can unravel.”

Coming closer, and closer, and closer, my back touched the blue door of Le Ghriba. My

phone was still buzzing; I didn’t come here for nothing, the truth’s lying somewhere

behind the sun.