Laws in Tunisia – The last train: Weed in Tunisia and my farewell

I smoked my last joint today. And yes, I will miss it. And at the same time – not again.

Smoking weed was cool as long as it was only once in a while. But when it became a daily routine, it was just like mental pyjamas: comfortable, sure, but not exactly suitable for the outside world.

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Weed was cool. Sometimes.

I’m sure I’ll be fine without THC. And if what I’ve read about Tunisia is true, I’d rather not go to prison for a joint.

I’m now so intimidated by the local drug laws that I’m seriously considering checking my luggage for microscopic traces. And the farewell joint at Geneva airport? Definitely off the wish list. Message understood: Drugs are no fun in my new home.

Out of curiosity (and continued panic), I asked AI what else is forbidden in Tunisia. Let’s just say the answers were pretty surprising.

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Laws in Tunisia and personal desire

Stranger in my own desire

Homosexuality, for example. A bitter reality for a country that otherwise presents itself as relatively modern. When it comes to sexual self-determination, Tunisia is still stuck in the analog age.

Unfortunately, this is irrelevant for me personally. I admire women, but I’m too heterosexual to actually fall in love with one. So my desire remains legal. For the time being.

Nevertheless, desire is complicated in Tunisia. Unmarried couples are not officially allowed to share a hotel room. Will this actually be enforced? Who knows. I just hope that the police don’t carry out midnight raids in private homes to check who is sleeping where. To be honest – you never know. This country is a different world in many ways. Only one strategy works: expect anything.

This makes it a little uncomfortable that a man will be sleeping in my apartment on my first night there. My Tunisian ex-family has decided to assign Raouf to me – something like a personal domestic helper, at least for a while. Good intentions, I know. But I didn’t ask anyone for it. And certainly not a chaperone.

Twenty years ago, I liked Raouf. Let’s see if I still like him when he watches me unpack.

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Emigrating to Tunisia – between fear and adaptation

Between paranoia and planning

Nine days to go. Nine days in which I want to finally receive the new decision on my social benefits from Switzerland. Just so I know how much money I can take with me before some bureaucrat digs up a clause to sabotage my new start.

I’m not doing anything illegal at the moment. Not yet. The gray area starts when I exceed the three-month period – towards the end of the year. And even then, the worst-case scenario would be a reduction in social benefits. But I want to avoid that at all costs. I need the money. For my life. For a fresh start.

To be honest, I think Switzerland should pay me a bonus for opting out of the system. Not only am I withdrawing from social benefits, but I’m also saving the canton the humiliating IFEG subsidies – the ones that are supposed to make me fold boxes in a sheltered workshop. No thanks.

Instead, I want to get out. With a little dignity. And yes – with a little financial cushion. But Swiss bureaucracy has no compassion, only algorithms. Sometimes a few hundred francs can lead to an existential crisis – a crisis that ends up costing taxpayers a lot more. Ingenious, isn’t it?

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Tunisia: Tough but predictable

Tunisia, on the other hand, is simple: don’t say the wrong thing, don’t do anything forbidden, stick to the rules – no matter how strange they may be – and you’ll be left alone. Tough, yes. But at least it’s predictable.

And if one day I do fancy a joint again? Then I’ll just book a short trip to Amsterdam. Or Zurich. Or somewhere else where people have long since realized what should be self-evident: that cannabis bans are simply stupid.