Why Hardened Faces ?
In the summer of 2016, I was driving around in Tripoli in search of a shop.. I cannot remember what shop was I looking for and what was it even that I wanted to buy... But I could clearly remember one thing... The faces of the people on the street: men, women, children all had the same look. Set features, harsh, stern, wizened, old, unhappy and hard.
The term "hardened faces" jumped at me and I realised that I would recognise a Libyan anywhere in the world by the specific set to our features.
A look that was apparent pre-2011 but that became permanent after 2012 and that increased - if one could say so post 2014.
If you are a Libyan who has lived in Libya ( or currently still lives here) you know exactly what I am talking about.
Those hardened faces looked older than they really were. I saw them in my cousins, neighbours, friends, classmates, colleagues, uncles and aunts, school children and travellers and I was scared to catch a glimpse myself on any reflecting surface lest I have caught this look too as it has come to exactly describe what being Libyan meant.
This blog is about Libya but also about my hodgepodge of experiences, whatever thoughts I want to put in here. It has been so long since I wrote something and I have forgotten how as so much has happened. I have to start somewhere and so I chose to do so finally today.
In the summer of 2016, I was driving around in Tripoli in search of a shop.. I cannot remember what shop was I looking for and what was it even that I wanted to buy... But I could clearly remember one thing... The faces of the people on the street: men, women, children all had the same look. Set features, harsh, stern, wizened, old, unhappy and hard.
The term "hardened faces" jumped at me and I realised that I would recognise a Libyan anywhere in the world by the specific set to our features.
A look that was apparent pre-2011 but that became permanent after 2012 and that increased - if one could say so post 2014.
If you are a Libyan who has lived in Libya ( or currently still lives here) you know exactly what I am talking about.
Those hardened faces looked older than they really were. I saw them in my cousins, neighbours, friends, classmates, colleagues, uncles and aunts, school children and travellers and I was scared to catch a glimpse myself on any reflecting surface lest I have caught this look too as it has come to exactly describe what being Libyan meant.
This blog is about Libya but also about my hodgepodge of experiences, whatever thoughts I want to put in here. It has been so long since I wrote something and I have forgotten how as so much has happened. I have to start somewhere and so I chose to do so finally today.
