Tunisia’s Berbers Under Threat

By Lucy Jones

Few cars these days climb the road to stony Ghommrassen, located 300 kilometers south of Tunis in the heart of Tunisia’s Berber Ksour region. An “Open” sign in English creaks in the slow breeze above a deserted teashop. Tiny rooms carved into the hillside are empty, save for a few discarded possessions—an old pair of shoes, a blanket, broken cooking utensils. The mosque looks freshly painted but, like the other abandoned buildings, is gradually gathering piles of red dust.

In the distance it is possible to see to where the people of this mountain community have moved. Shimmering below on an arid beige plain is “Novi Ghommrassen,” or New Ghommrassen, a small town of white buildings with running water, air conditioners, hi-fi stores and—most importantly—health facilities, schools and jobs. Last year, Novi Ghommrassen finally enticed the last of Ghommrassen’s Berbers. Instead of living in homes chiseled from the rock, these mountain dwellers now inhabit hastily built apartments, cook on electric stoves instead of open fires and send their children to school on a local bus.

Old Ghommrassen used to be a thriving Berber settlement, boasting several stores, including one for tourists, an olive oil press, a mosque and a small café. The residents of the village lived mainly on the proceeds of olive oil production. But, one by one, the families of Ghommrassen gradually decided to make the move to nearby towns.

The men left first, to look for work, as these Berber strongholds offered little in the way of employment. Their families followed them. The old were the last to leave. “There was no longer any community life,” said Mustafa Hazaris, a retired storekeeper who now lives in a stuffy apartment block in New Ghommrassen. “We were away from our friends and relatives. There was nothing left but empty buildings, so we had to move.”

The original Ghommrassen is not the only mountain settlement to be abandoned by the Berbers for towns with modern conveniences. Some 10 other villages in southern Tunisia—a few more than two centuries old—have emptied out, and others are on the brink of survival. “As Berbers become assimilated into the towns,” said Mohammad Bezara, a Berber historian in Tataouine, the Ksour region’s modern administrative center, “we have to question whether the very notion of Berberism in Tunisia is under threat,”

The Berbers inhabit swathes of land across North Africa, predominantly in Morocco, Algeria and Tunisia, but also in Libya and Egypt. Algeria’s Berbers have been in the news recently because of riots in the country’s northern Kabylia Berber region. More than 80 Berbers were killed by government forces trying to quell the violence, which ignited unrest elsewhere in the country. Berbers account for around 20 percent of Algeria’s population but face discrimination, and are pressing to have their language and culture recognized and for improved economic conditions.

Although the Berbers across North Africa are related, their origins long have been debated. Some historians, citing archeological evidence dating to the 10th millennium BC, think the Berbers are the indigenous people of North Africa. Other experts say the Berbers came from elsewhere, probably the Mediterranean. According to this theory, ancient immigration resulted in the formation of a group of people whom the ancient Greeks called “barboroi” (barbarians) because their customs varied so greatly from Greek behavior. (The word “Berber” is derived from that derogatory term.)

The Arabs first came to Tunisia in 647, returning to conquer the area 23 years later. Unlike previous invaders, the Arabs were not interested simply in acquiring an empire—they also wanted to introduce Islam and the Arabic language. Since these goals could not be achieved until they established themselves as rulers, the Arabs waged war against the Byzantines and the Berbers, defeating a large group of Berbers led by a Berber princess called Kahina in 702.

Kahina’s followers were the first to embrace Islam. With their help, the Arabs went on to conquer all of North Africa and most of Spain, and met with amazing success in establishing their religion everywhere they went. The spread of the Arabic language, however, was much slower. In some isolated areas Arabic was not adopted until recently, and in most Berber areas the Berber language still is widely spoken.

In Tunisia, of the country’s population of 9 million an estimated 90,000 people are thought to be “pure” Berber. The Berbers are known for their green eyes, ginger hair and pale skin—although many Berbers with Arabic and sub-Saharan African features also regard themselves as members of this ancient people. Many of the sub-Saharan African Berbers, in fact, originally were slaves of the Berbers. When their masters adopted Islam, however, which bans slavery, the Africans were released. Few returned home, choosing instead to remain within the Berber communities.

Because Berbers in Tunisia always have been a force to reckon with, they have not faced the level of discrimination suffered by Berbers in Morocco and, especially, Algeria. Indeed, French colonizers championed the Berber culture and language as a means of creating a division between Berbers and other Tunisians.

In recent years the government has been quick to recognize the advantages of promoting Berber culture as a tourist attraction. Every day, air-conditioned buses deliver European tourists from Tunisia’s coastal areas to Chenini, a Berber settlement of 3,000 inhabitants located in the Ksour region and redolent of olive oil. To encourage the village’s traditionally costumed inhabitants to remain, the government has built a sparkling new clinic and a primary school.

At Matmata, cave dwellings have been transformed into luxury hotel accommodation. This has provided locals with a much-needed source of employment, although some residents, weary of the thousands of tourists, have erected barbed wire in front of their caves to keep the visitors out. In 1997 the spectacular ksar—a fortification built to store grain—located on a hilltop near Ghommrassen was used by American filmmaker George Lucas to create the set for the last “Star Wars” film.

Even the residents in these thriving Berber settlements face problems, however. A severe lack of employment has led the majority of men from these communities to look for work elsewhere. “As soon as the men reach 20, they leave,” said Ahmad Fadel, 34, one of the few young men to stay in Chenini. “They go to France to work in agriculture or to Libya to work in patisserie factories. They don’t have a choice,”

Often the men never return. As a result, the demography of these settlements has changed dramatically in the past two decades. In Chenini, more than 80 percent of the inhabitants are now female. This can be witnessed on Thursday nights at the town’s mosque, where a large group made up entirely of elderly women engage in prayer until the early hours of the next day.

Many of the young women are unmarried. “It’s hard to find a husband. There are fewer men here these days,” said Halima Najjar, 22, an olive collector who lives on the hillside of Chenini. “Sometimes our elders try to match young women with men from the towns, but many parents don’t want to lose their daughters so they don’t attempt to do this. Also, the men in the towns aren’t always Berber. Parents don’t want their daughters to enter into mixed marriages.”

“But we do want to marry, though,” Halima’s younger sister, Najia, chimed in.

Even the women who are married, however, spend months alone with their children while their husbands earn a living abroad. “This has a detrimental effect on family life,” said one Chenini mother. “Of course it would be better if our men could be here,”

Norah Fatia, 75, a rug maker who has lived in the settlement all her life, laments the fate of the man-less settlement. “It never used to be like this,” she said. “Many people used to live here. Men as well. We were always celebrating weddings. Maybe it’s time for us to change,” she sighed.

Such talk is unpopular among Berber activists. In Tataouine, Lazhar Harabi, a campaigner for Berber rights, says the government should do as much as it can to keep the Berbers in their original settlements by providing running water, schools and jobs. “The Berber people are an essential part of the country’s heritage,” he said. “They cannot be abandoned.”

If money from tourism is at stake—as in the case of Chenini—the government seems to deem the assistance of Berber settlements worthwhile. In settlements off the tourist track, however, the state shows little inclination to improve Berber living conditions by building much-needed schools and hospitals. “It’s a natural process,” said Sayed Berhaza, a local government councilor in Tataouine. “No one is forcing them to leave. There are simply better opportunities elsewhere in the country.”

That may be true. But it will result in the scattering of the Berber people and, most probably, their gradual assimilation into the population. The colorful Berber settlements gleefully portrayed in holiday brochures soon may be no more than tourist symbols of a way of life that no longer exists.

Lucy Jones is a free-lance journalist currently based in London.