The Arch and the Butterfly (19 page)

‘In another part of this mosaic we see Diana, the goddess of the hunt and twin sister of Apollo, accompanied by two nymphs and bathing in the middle of the forest. As you can see, Diana is naked. Her right foot is inside the bath and her left hand is catching the water flowing from the mouth of a winged horse. At the bottom of the picture appears the hunter Actaeon who dared look upon the naked Diana. She punished him by throwing some of the water on to his face, changing him into a stag that was devoured by his hunting dogs.

‘These are really wonderful scenes, and I am sure their makers charged the merchants of Walili a high price for them. I doubt, however, that the wealthy inhabitants of Walili, busy with their presses and their oils, really loved those myths. That they had them painted in their houses, in bright colours, no doubt delighted them and provided them with the feeling of superiority needed to maintain their influence in the city.

‘Now, please gather round. We are now in the middle of the Decumanus Maximus, the main street, four hundred metres long and twelve metres wide. At the northern end of this street is the Tangier Gate, directly above is the Zaytoun Hotel, the last achievement of your humble servant. Then there is the village of Fertassa, and farther away the Cave of the Pigeons. If you cross this mountain you will find yourselves in a village called Lkouar. Beyond it you will find Dakkaora and then Dhar El Khoulf. Then all you have to do is cross the valley and you will find yourselves face to face with the hamlet of Bu Mandara, where Juba III, known as Al-Firsiwi, was born and grew up. He is the man now guiding you in this total darkness.

‘If we go down the main street, to the south, we will reach, as we are now doing, the Triumphal Arch that bears the name of the Emperor Caracalla. No one was victorious over anyone. The arch was simply an acknowledgement of his favours on the part of those who received Roman citizenship during his rule and those who benefited from a total and comprehensive tax exemption. This is to let you know that the desire to triumph over taxation is deeply rooted in our history, from Roman times to the present.

‘During the times of Severus, the district of the public buildings and the temple, in other words the Capitol, dedicated to the divine trinity of Jupiter, Juno and Minerva, was added to the city, as were the courthouse and the public plaza.

‘Watch your step. I apologise for drawing your attention to things I do not seem qualified to help you with, but the warning is mentioned in the guidebook. In other words, it is part of my responsibility.

‘We have arrived at the Orpheus house which contains the mosaic that bears his name. In the public wing of this house, between the reception hall and the courtyard water basin, there is a rectangular tableau in black and white, representing Neptune riding a chariot pulled by a hippocamp and surrounded by a group of sea creatures. Within another frame bordered by geometrical designs are nine double-headed dolphins with crescent shaped tails playing in the waves. I should point out that dolphins are believed to provide protection against the evil eye and are also charged with transporting the souls of the dead to the farthest location in the sea.

‘The mosaic of Orpheus’s house is the largest circular mosaic in Walili. It incorporates, as you can see, perfectly executed scenes of various animals and birds. In the middle is an octagonal tableau representing Orpheus playing the lyre. Were it not for his fine clothes, I would have mistaken him for a shepherd from Moussaoua. This large mosaic was discovered in the years 1926–28, and it is the only one in the southern quarter. According to the legend, Orpheus descended into the underworld to rescue his beloved Eurydice. He was able to enchant the gods with his beautiful playing and they allowed him to restore his beloved to the living, on the condition that he did not look at her until he had left the underworld. But Orpheus either forgot the condition or could not wait. Or he did it deliberately, preferring to discover the enormity of the consequences of his action rather than following the rules. It is also possible that he wanted to see his beloved as she returned to life, with a beauty that would never be hers, preferring this tragic end to her gradual aging into an ugly woman in another life. Anyway, as soon as Orpheus looked at his beloved, she melted away and was swallowed by the shadows. The gods did not permit him another descent to the underworld, forcing him thus to withdraw from the world and spend all his time crying or playing music, enchanting birds, lizards and wild beasts with his sad melodies. In submission and obedience they would crouch at his feet, passively placing their ferocity in his hands.

‘That’s according to the myth, but in the mosaic there is nothing but vivid colour and form, for the wealthy to receive their guests in sumptuous surroundings that would give them a sense of inferiority to the end of their days.

‘What’s that, madam? You’ve found a magnificent male? Congratulations. It won’t be the first or the last one during our trip. Every house has a sculpted fertility symbol with a permanent erection. Hans Roeder said that he buried his poems near a carving of this kind. Consider these people’s stupidity. When we began excavating, I asked Diotima, “In which house exactly?” She replied, “Beside a white stone male.” Tell me, in God’s name, is that a suitable address for a place to visit?

‘Ever since then we have dug whenever we came across a male in white stone. We dug openly and in secret, by night and by day, until we acquired a bad reputation as antiquities thieves and treasure hunters.

‘One morning I shouted in a state of despair, “Under which male did you bury your poetry, you son of a bitch?”

‘I was arrested and subjected to a long interrogation concerning Diotima and the poetry book. When Bacchus was stolen, I could find no one better qualified than myself to have committed the crime!

‘In the small notebook that my wife’s grandfather left behind, there was a poem entitled “Diotima” that my wife always carried with her as a talisman. It read as follows:

You endure in silence but they do not understand you

Oh sacred life, and you quietly wilt away

Because you search among the barbarians

For your people in bright sunlight,

Those great, compassionate, departing souls.

But time passes quickly

And my mortal hymn will see anew

On that day someone like you

who will name you, Oh Diotima

Close to the gods,

And among the heroes.

‘Thank you, thank you. I am delighted you like the poem. Let’s say that it is a mysterious hymn about tragedy and love, the subjects that people never tire of. If you’ve had enough of all this talk about mythology, we can visit the nobles’ houses in silence, although the nobles love chatter.

‘As you can see in this mosaic, tragedy is after all nothing but a decorative element. The depictions in the houses and the baths consist of exuberant scenes, despite the violence of some of their myths. Mournful themes are completely absent in these works of art, and even tragic spirit seems like distant wisdom or poetic amusement. Hylas is torn to pieces by nymphs, Actaeon is torn to pieces by his dogs and Cato the Younger commits suicide in Utica. The endless blood and tears recall an Egyptian or Mexican soap opera, and have nothing to do with the way life was lived in Walili, which consisted of people spending long hours in hot baths, rubbing their bodies with olive oil and enjoying the company of women and young boys to die for.

‘Since we’ve mentioned Cato’s suicide, let me explain that on this mountain and its environs, suicide is considered an eternal tragedy. I personally know more than one person who committed suicide by jumping from the Cave of the Pigeons, as if responding to a call emanating from the belly of these ruins. Even my wife Diotima committed suicide with a gunshot on the hill overlooking this site. The last thing she talked about was the sunset. Just imagine, the woman never paid any attention, in thought or word, to the sunset, even though it is an eternal phenomenon, except once the few minutes before her suicide. For all those reasons I gave up my sight, since there was nothing more left for me on to which to cast my mind’s net.

‘Now I see everything with my hands! Lady, please do not laugh. I can see the colour of your eyes with my hand. Let me try. Ha, ha, ha, beautiful too. The fairness of your skin is amazing, especially with your dark eyes! I am right, aren’t I? I saw clearly, as it is said. I would cut these fingers off were it not for their seeing this beautiful face! No, no, please, madam. I am the one who thanks God for the pleasure of touching your face.

‘We will now enter the house of the acrobat. Here there is a playful mosaic, a parody of the horserace, showing an acrobat riding a donkey backwards, and carrying a jug and a sash in his right hand, which together symbolise victory. A scene which for us makes a representation of war into a fantasy, as if the warriors, when they concede or are defeated, have nothing other than this ironic imitation to tame their craving for war.

‘This is the house of the handsome youth. The mosaic that decorates the dining hall consists of four circular medallions in the corners, intertwined with four other oval medallions. The centre of the tableau is decorated with a mermaid riding a hippocamp, while two dolphins swim between its legs in the opposite direction.

‘Once again the dolphin acts to ward off the evil eye. This does not mean that dolphin and fish lived in this river, just that mosaic makers had pattern books that they showed to their wealthy customers, some of whom suggested elements of their own. We all add something of our own.

‘The handsome youth is one of the site’s most beautiful bronze statues. Discovered in 1932 under a metre and a half of stones and soil, it represents a naked adolescent of exceptional beauty. If I had to steal something from Walili, I would have stolen the handsome youth and placed it next to me on this dark path, between the mosaic and the ghosts, instead of leaving him to kill his endless days in a forgotten museum, where he hears the voices of the drunks from the nearby bar and the news bulletins from the radio studios. While crossing this place, I would like you to pay attention to the mosaic, which represents an extremely fine-looking crab. I consider it the loveliest scene among these ruins.

‘Here is Bacchus, the god of wine, once again. This time he is riding a chariot pulled by tigers only whose claws remain to be seen. Bacchus is wearing sumptuous clothes and a laurel of vine leaves; he might be holding vine branches. Whenever I find Bacchus painted, carved, or even alive, my inner sense of battling comes to life. I have fought many wars for his sake! When I built the hotel and after I obtained a licence to sell alcohol; when the Cantina became a meeting place for the poxed and the drunk, and when it was stolen. In the mosaic in front of you, we see Bacchus in one of his encounters with Ariadne, daughter of King Minos. Legend tells us that Ariadne helped Theseus defeat the Minotaur after she helped him get out of the labyrinth. But he abandoned her alone on the shore of the island of Naxos, where the god Bacchus found her.

‘Notice the extreme multiplicity of Bacchus, to an extent that surpasses the needs of the legend. Time left him behind and he became a stone that Al-Firsiwi carried on his back, crossing the rugged roads with him, in search of the courtyard of an abandoned mosque where he could bury him.

‘Had the mosaic artists continued to innovate their colourful stories, they would have made Bacchus meet Moulay Idriss and placed in his hands a bunch of the Bu Amr grapes renowned in the region.

‘Let’s move a little further down. This is the house of Hercules with a mosaic representing the labours of Hercules. As you can see, the tableau represents three different subjects. In the middle we see Ganymede kidnapped by Zeus in the form of an eagle and taken to Mount Olympus. Inside the squares we find the seasons in the shape of the upper part of a woman, and finally we see the labours of Hercules: Hercules strangling serpents as a child, Hercules taming the Cretan bull, Hercules hunting the Stymphalian birds with arrows, fighting the nine-headed hydra, defeating the queen of the Amazons, battling the Nemean lion, and Hercules picking golden apples from the garden of the Hesperides. There might be other labours in the mosaic that I have forgotten.

‘Look at the details carefully. You will see extraordinary feats and other extremely simple ones. I personally consider every human being a greater or lesser Hercules. Had I enjoyed a similar reputation, I would have appeared on a huge mosaic: Al-Firsiwi strangling the scaly forest serpents of Zarhoun, Al-Firsiwi bringing Diotima back from the underworld, Al-Firsiwi committing to memory a poem by Hölderlin at the night university in Frankfurt, Al-Firsiwi concluding a winning deal to rent the Hall of Oil at the Zawiya, Al-Firsiwi building the Zaytoun Hotel, Al-Firsiwi burying Bacchus, Al-Firsiwi changing into Antaeus and twisting Hercules’s arm before exiling him to Bu Mandara.

‘You laugh because you are drawing sharp boundaries between reality and legend. A mistake, a grievous mistake. Are you sure, sir, that you never did something miraculous? You don’t remember. Just like that, you don’t remember. As if it were possible to forget a heroic act you performed! You want us to joke? Let’s joke, sir. I can assure you, that sometimes shit itself is a miracle!

‘In the good old days, I made something akin to a contemporary mosaic with a Roman spirit. If you ever visit the ruins of the Zaytoun Hotel, you can see it in the lobby. There you will still find the scene of Abd al-Karim al-Khattabi on his white horse submitting to the French. Orpheus is with him, playing his lyre while the beasts of colonialism crouch at his feet. Then there is a scene of Al-Firsiwi senior carrying a gazelle from Mount Salfat on his shoulders and your humble servant fighting a snake from Ain Jaafar.