Atheist in Tunisia – Under the Same Sun (Introduction)

I am an atheist.
Not one of those uncertain “I just don’t believe” atheists, but a pretty relaxed “I’m done with religion” version of one. My inner smartass usually sits there with her arms crossed, raises an eyebrow, and comments on belief systems with a mixture of historical knowledge, life experience, and mild annoyance.

Religion?
Been there, done that.
Christianity? Checked off the list.
Esotericism? Immune to it.

Or so I thought, at least.

Atheist in Tunisia – why this series of articles was written

This series of texts is an attempt to observe a chaos of thoughts that does not conform to my own self-image. Because since I’ve been living in Tunisia, something strange has been happening: my head is asking questions that I thought were settled—and my body is responding faster than I would like.

So there sits my little “I’m so over this” smartass on my shoulder, watching in disbelief as my thoughts race at the speed of light:

Why does this feel good?
What exactly does that mean?
Wait a minute—the religion that we in Europe reflexively associate with terror, oppression, and bombs in backpacks has… healing properties? WTF?

And while my mind frantically plows through Wikipedia articles, religious history, and political contexts, my body does something completely unscientific: it calms down.
While listening to a prayer.
In a language I don’t understand.
With a cry that for many of us is inextricably linked to fear: Allahu akbar.

This series is not a profession of faith.
Nor is it a defense of Islam.
And it is certainly not a reckoning with other religions.

It is the honest attempt of an atheist, nature-spiritual, slightly sarcastic woman to admit to herself that the search for meaning is not a closed chapter—even when you think you have already read, understood, and sorted everything.

Part 1 (“Under the Same Sun”)
is about my relationship with nature, light, and a spirituality without God.
About my reverence for the sun, the sky, and order—and why this form of meaning has never frightened me.

Part 2 (“Me and Islam”)
gets more personal. More uncomfortable. More contradictory.
It’s about my religious biography, my allergy to bullshit – and why Islam in Tunisia, of all places, made me a seeker again. Reluctantly. Curiously. And surprisingly peacefully.

I don’t promise answers.
But I do promise honest questions.
And a few mental stumbling blocks that we can smile about together.