‘That’s according to the myth, but in the mosaic there is nothing but vivid colour and form, for the wealthy to receive their guests in sumptuous surroundings that would give them a sense of inferiority to the end of their days.
‘What’s that, madam? You’ve found a magnificent male? Congratulations. It won’t be the first or the last one during our trip. Every house has a sculpted fertility symbol with a permanent erection. Hans Roeder said that he buried his poems near a carving of this kind. Consider these people’s stupidity. When we began excavating, I asked Diotima, “In which house exactly?” She replied, “Beside a white stone male.” Tell me, in God’s name, is that a suitable address for a place to visit?
‘Ever since then we have dug whenever we came across a male in white stone. We dug openly and in secret, by night and by day, until we acquired a bad reputation as antiquities thieves and treasure hunters.
‘One morning I shouted in a state of despair, “Under which male did you bury your poetry, you son of a bitch?”
‘I was arrested and subjected to a long interrogation concerning Diotima and the poetry book. When Bacchus was stolen, I could find no one better qualified than myself to have committed the crime!
‘In the small notebook that my wife’s grandfather left behind, there was a poem entitled “Diotima” that my wife always carried with her as a talisman. It read as follows:
You endure in silence but they do not understand you
Oh sacred life, and you quietly wilt away
Because you search among the barbarians
For your people in bright sunlight,
Those great, compassionate, departing souls.
But time passes quickly
And my mortal hymn will see anew
On that day someone like you
who will name you, Oh Diotima
Close to the gods,
And among the heroes.
‘Thank you, thank you. I am delighted you like the poem. Let’s say that it is a mysterious hymn about tragedy and love, the subjects that people never tire of. If you’ve had enough of all this talk about mythology, we can visit the nobles’ houses in silence, although the nobles love chatter.
‘As you can see in this mosaic, tragedy is after all nothing but a decorative element. The depictions in the houses and the baths consist of exuberant scenes, despite the violence of some of their myths. Mournful themes are completely absent in these works of art, and even tragic spirit seems like distant wisdom or poetic amusement. Hylas is torn to pieces by nymphs, Actaeon is torn to pieces by his dogs and Cato the Younger commits suicide in Utica. The endless blood and tears recall an Egyptian or Mexican soap opera, and have nothing to do with the way life was lived in Walili, which consisted of people spending long hours in hot baths, rubbing their bodies with olive oil and enjoying the company of women and young boys to die for.
‘Since we’ve mentioned Cato’s suicide, let me explain that on this mountain and its environs, suicide is considered an eternal tragedy. I personally know more than one person who committed suicide by jumping from the Cave of the Pigeons, as if responding to a call emanating from the belly of these ruins. Even my wife Diotima committed suicide with a gunshot on the hill overlooking this site. The last thing she talked about was the sunset. Just imagine, the woman never paid any attention, in thought or word, to the sunset, even though it is an eternal phenomenon, except once the few minutes before her suicide. For all those reasons I gave up my sight, since there was nothing more left for me on to which to cast my mind’s net.
‘Now I see everything with my hands! Lady, please do not laugh. I can see the colour of your eyes with my hand. Let me try. Ha, ha, ha, beautiful too. The fairness of your skin is amazing, especially with your dark eyes! I am right, aren’t I? I saw clearly, as it is said. I would cut these fingers off were it not for their seeing this beautiful face! No, no, please, madam. I am the one who thanks God for the pleasure of touching your face.
‘We will now enter the house of the acrobat. Here there is a playful mosaic, a parody of the horserace, showing an acrobat riding a donkey backwards, and carrying a jug and a sash in his right hand, which together symbolise victory. A scene which for us makes a representation of war into a fantasy, as if the warriors, when they concede or are defeated, have nothing other than this ironic imitation to tame their craving for war.
‘This is the house of the handsome youth. The mosaic that decorates the dining hall consists of four circular medallions in the corners, intertwined with four other oval medallions. The centre of the tableau is decorated with a mermaid riding a hippocamp, while two dolphins swim between its legs in the opposite direction.
‘Once again the dolphin acts to ward off the evil eye. This does not mean that dolphin and fish lived in this river, just that mosaic makers had pattern books that they showed to their wealthy customers, some of whom suggested elements of their own. We all add something of our own.
‘The handsome youth is one of the site’s most beautiful bronze statues. Discovered in 1932 under a metre and a half of stones and soil, it represents a naked adolescent of exceptional beauty. If I had to steal something from Walili, I would have stolen the handsome youth and placed it next to me on this dark path, between the mosaic and the ghosts, instead of leaving him to kill his endless days in a forgotten museum, where he hears the voices of the drunks from the nearby bar and the news bulletins from the radio studios. While crossing this place, I would like you to pay attention to the mosaic, which represents an extremely fine-looking crab. I consider it the loveliest scene among these ruins.
‘Here is Bacchus, the god of wine, once again. This time he is riding a chariot pulled by tigers only whose claws remain to be seen. Bacchus is wearing sumptuous clothes and a laurel of vine leaves; he might be holding vine branches. Whenever I find Bacchus painted, carved, or even alive, my inner sense of battling comes to life. I have fought many wars for his sake! When I built the hotel and after I obtained a licence to sell alcohol; when the Cantina became a meeting place for the poxed and the drunk, and when it was stolen. In the mosaic in front of you, we see Bacchus in one of his encounters with Ariadne, daughter of King Minos. Legend tells us that Ariadne helped Theseus defeat the Minotaur after she helped him get out of the labyrinth. But he abandoned her alone on the shore of the island of Naxos, where the god Bacchus found her.
‘Notice the extreme multiplicity of Bacchus, to an extent that surpasses the needs of the legend. Time left him behind and he became a stone that Al-Firsiwi carried on his back, crossing the rugged roads with him, in search of the courtyard of an abandoned mosque where he could bury him.
‘Had the mosaic artists continued to innovate their colourful stories, they would have made Bacchus meet Moulay Idriss and placed in his hands a bunch of the Bu Amr grapes renowned in the region.