Jebel Rassas, Ben Arous, Tunisia

Jebel Rassas, Ben Arous, Tunisia

Standing small and short, feeling humble but anointed, looking up at Jebel Rassas, Ben Arous, Tunisia, a mountain of the most gloriousness I could have ever imagined. Its blackness on its shiny dark rigidly designed coal-like surfaces was like a brilliant diamond range beckoning and calling in its magical magnetic attraction to me as the wind whistled from her into my ears. The green saturated nutritious tree-filled fields below caught the mountain's rain water as a filling beverage to parched roots, as it slid down her mountainous slopes into the soil where the greenness grows alive and rich. I desired to climb and reach the very top crags, needed to know how it looked to be on top, knowing full well that full comprehension of this creation of God's, of YAH's is impossible to the mortal mind. I imagined a strong angular black face in the slopes, a firm breathing nose, two squinty peering eyes, and a caring curved mouth with full lips in the curvature of this noble mount in northwestern, Africa--like a villager craftsman's African mask. My friend was in the Peace Corps in Tunisia, helping the villagers find food to sustain their lives. This magical mount reminded me of Mount Sinai, or Mount Zion, Har Zion, in the Atlas Mountains of northwestern Africa, in Tunisia, a democracy where dragons no longer exist, but instead where butterflies take their place.