I’m a pilgrim and a stranger in Djerba as the heavens open

I ALWAYS wanted to perch in the back of a Land Rover, my head bashing the roof, motoring through a sub-Saharan north Africa while reading T E Lawrence’s Seven Pillars of Wisdom: The Revolt in the Desert and listening to Youssou N’Dour’s Immigres on a crackly radio.

Except we were not on our way to Dakar as part of the Paris to Senegal car rally.

We were hurtling towards the 200 square miles of Djerba, the island that looks as if it was plucked out of the south Tunisian landscape and anchored just off the mainland.

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