Tunisian Prison

November 8, 2026

Books › This World Is Conquered › Tunisian Prison

I approached the border guards, and they smiled, took my business cards and said OK! Then after about 3 hours comes to me with my passport. I think finally made a visa. We go to his office, and he tortures me for an hour why I came to Tunisia without a visa. What country am I from? He pokes me in the chest. Are you Kabul? Afghanistan? Pakistan? Then he got in the car and told me to follow him. After 20 kilometers. A barracks building flanked by barbed wire fences. Gives me the creeps. He handed me over to the other soldiers. And the interrogations began again.

Duck Wotke is a motorcycle traveler from the United States.

In the end I learned from them information that on February 25, 2005 on the African coast of the Mediterranean Sea there was a major terrorist attack in Beirut (Lebanon). The car of the Prime Minister of Lebanon was blown up and this terrorist attack was taken by a group like Afghan-Pakistani group. and in this connection there was a special situation along the whole coast. And I just fit those parameters with my Mujahideen beard and my passport ending in …STAN. As we later learned. It's a checkpoint for all suspicious and real mercenaries and terrorists who pass the border illegally and go to fight in many African countries …. as a job. For two days they were still talking to me. I managed to make a call to Cairo to our ambassador Amreev.

Bagdat Kultayevich. I even handed the receiver to the investigator. The investigator said only one incomprehensible word in response and handed the receiver back to me. The ambassador told me not to try to be rude or behave inappropriately. Said to call me back. (I'm gonna go ahead and, uh. and say that the next contact with our ambassador was one month later.) I calmed down a bit, but in vain, it turned out to be even worse. The officers emptied all my pockets, took my phone, my docks. They locked me in a cell with some guy. Three days later I was summoned for questioning again. Again they asked me a lot of questions about the Lebanese terrorist attack.

The answers were the same. An hour later they loaded me into a car and took me to the prison-zone. No trial and no sentence. A month on the bunks, on rations. Sad. I made friends with a guy from Ukraine and another guy from Samara. I can't write much about them. Anyway, they're among those who come here to fight for money. The thing is, there are ferries to Europe from Tunisia, Morocco and Egypt. And the only place to deport and send criminals is TUNIS. My deportation came after a month. Thanks to the Russian embassy staff who came to pick up my compatriot from jail. I had to go through all the humiliation and hardships as a criminal terrorist. I thought they would just release me and apologize. They didn't. Thank them for not taking my bike. Russian diplomats helped load it onto the ferry. It was in a terrible state. There was sausage… milk… groceries in the trunk. Can you imagine the smell, almost Chanel. And the helmet grew moss from the rain and the sun. I with all the deported mercenaries, murderers and terrorists loaded into a common hold and sailed to Marseilles in France… It takes two days to sail to Marseilles. In the evening, I'm pulled out of the hold and taken to the ship's captain. He understood at once when he saw my motorcycle and documents (I also had a Schengen visa three months valid). He talked to me and gave me a single cabin and for two days I had a blast there. I washed up, shaved, ate… DRUNK. . Already in Marseille, in a special reception center, I also went through all these humiliating procedures, but it was easier. They sympathized and let me go after 24 hours. First of all I called my relatives and the ambassador. I reported that I was alive and well. It's the end of March. Three days were enough for me to decide how to be and what to do next. I must be a very big AUTHORIST. In spite of everything that had happened, I decided to get to the American continent. First I left Marseilles and got to Vienna to our embassy. They helped me get my bike fixed up. Thanks to IM. I stayed with them for 4 days and then went to Hamburg. There I loaded my bike on the ferry and sent it to the US. I went home to lick my wounds and rest. The Germans said the bike would arrive in the U.S. in two and a half months… Hooray for home. The circumnavigation continues!!!"!

With friend countryman Bari Alibasov at the shooting of the documentary "Where? Where? In Karaganda".

Visiting bikers of Ukraine. City Sholokhov. Maxim and Anna Linnik.