The Village of Maztouria (Tunisia)

Said's family is delighted to see me. Having lavished kisses on my cheeks, Said's mother Aida takes me into the familiar courtyard where I used to spend hours, back in 2006, enjoying the family's conversations, songs, dances and laughter, interrupted occasionally by offers of nana'a (mint) tea, food and questions about my family.

This time, though, I am invited to a small bedroom that, like most other rooms, is whitewashed and windowless. A piece of cloth hangs over the doorway to ward off the intrusion of noxious insects as well as the unbearable summer heat--the "Tunisian sauna" as Aida laughingly calls. Inside, clean synthetic and handwoven mats cover the floor, while oversized Arabesque pillows lean cozily against the bright walls.

Said's 70-year-old father, Ali, a short but energetic man who has worked hard his entire life, summons me to lie down on a light mattress and pillow specially prepared for me. The family comes to greet me.

The Znaitis are a rather large family by Taiwanese standards. Three generations and 13 people live under the same roof, although Said has moved to Djerba for work to help support the family. Hedi, the eldest son, and his wife Riim have four children: Kawla (10), Hamadi (8) and Uiselle (1) are familiar to me. But I am pleasantly surprised to find that the Znaitis have had a new addition to the family: a 2-month-old toddler named Yusuf.

Without warning, in less than 20 minutes after my arrival, Said's sister Zena (36) brings me an omelet and a baguette, disregarding my protestation that I have already eaten. Momma Aida and Zena are especially chatty and inquisitive. Aida talks to me in a jovial voice accompanied by a huge smile and big, welcoming gestures. And though her Arabic is incomprehensible to me, her kindness and facial expression require no translation.