In Tunisia, abortion is not a debate. It’s part of how the country was built; a system of trust that has quietly functioned for fifty years. Here, fairness lives in structure, not slogans; choice is handled with order, not noise.

Fairness isn’t a slogan, it’s structure. In Tunisia, craft has always carried its own balance: trust for trust, skill for respect. At My Chakchouka, we rebuilt that rhythm for today: transparent pricing, no middlemen, and calm predictability for every maker.

A letter about belonging, difference, and what it means to build something that connects people, across countries, languages, and ways of seeing.

Buying more gives the illusion of abundance. Buying better builds presence. Tunisian craft proves that fewer objects, made with care, create continuity and dignity.

Choosing fair systems is not just about artisans, it’s about you. Every object reflects dignity, continuity, and the care you choose to live with.

Centuries before “fair trade” became a label, Tunisia had already defined its logic. Ibn Khaldun, born in Tunis in 1332, wrote that no society can last if its system is unjust. His words still echo today — in every artisan paid directly, every object built to last, and every fair exchange that keeps Tunisia’s rhythm alive.

Discounts fade with the receipt. Dignity deepens with time. Tunisian crafts carry memory, skill, and continuity; proof that meaning travels further than price cuts.

Custom does not mean excess. At My Chakchouka, some requests are declined, to protect function, material, and meaning. Refusal is part of respect.