ABSTRACT
I n the summer of 1973 a chartered plane landed at the Tunis-Carthage airport on the last leg of its journey from the United States to North Africa. On board were scores of new Peace Corps volunteers, recent graduates from American universities intending to teach English as a foreign language. I was among the volunteers, unaware at the time that this first encounter with Tunisia would grow into a life-long friendship. I was assigned to teach in a high school in the ancient Islamic city of al-Qayrawan (or Kairouan) in the interior, founded in 671 CE during the Arab-Berber Muslim conquests of North Africa. Nevertheless, I spent much time in Tunis, with its seductive madina (old city) as well as nearby coastal villages—La Marsa, Sidi Bou Said, La Goulette, and, above all, Carthage, whose hold over my imagination proved the most enduring. My undergraduate history courses probably first introduced me to Carthage, mainly as the rival to and then city vanquished by Rome. In addition, the verdant nature of this suburb, with its leafy, shaded streets; wonderful Moorish residential architecture; and numerous cafes acted as a lure. After all, my Peace Corps teaching site was in the semi-arid interior many hours away on creaking public buses; the Mediterranean splendor of Carthage drew me back whenever possible.
