A Time for Introspection

For the last two years I have been constantly thinking and wishing for a long break. For a time where I would not have any deadlines, where I would be able to spend time at home, be with family, complete my library, re-arrange my papers,  scan the family albums, exercise more, eat healthy, cook, dance, try to find love, write my book, study etc... be normal!  I wanted to leave behind the cynicism that has creeped slowly into my life like a climbing weed and so I promised myself that as soon as I finish the next goalpost I will be able to take a couple of months off. But the goalpost was always moving forward.... 

There is a saying " be careful what you wish for ...lest it becomes true!". Indeed, when battle fatigue was settling in and "what next?" was growing as question in my head followed by the  "if I don't do something I will end up alone!" becoming more than just a cliche, and I  found myself collecting more auto-immune diseases in one decade then during most of my lifetime; I knew something had to happen to get out of this vicious cycle. 

The first sign was that after years of a successful, loved and respected project the funding partner decided to not extend anymore. It is a very normal action in the development sector and we had discussed this eventuality. But somehow I thought it  would be in a mythical future. The surprising thing was that I was not upset  at the prospect of unemployment for an unknown period of time - after all we are a country at war and stable jobs are not the norm - I told myself.  I begun planning  for all the activities on my bucket list - we all have one stashed somewhere 😀.  Then just as I was heading towards putting my vacation plans into reality the world pressed the brake pedals in March 2020.  I will come back to this shortly. 

Though I worked hard for the last three decades, bordering on perfectionism and addiction to completing deadlines, I had a sacrosanct time (in summer usually) when everything stopped so I could travel with my mother for our annual pilgrimage to her home and family in Syria. This meant I would not see a single email or shred of work for the duration of the vacation. It was priceless! I don't know what happened,  but at some point early on in this decade something changed and I turned into the most hard core workaholic of all times. It is telling that by March 2020 I had 75 days of untaken vacation privilege to which I had to reluctantly say goodbye.  Some people say it's your fault for not taking time off,  use it or lose it... but when you have responsibilities and dependents in a country at war you don't always have this luxury. Why? because you need to prove impact and success  if you combine that with hardline principles it means you literally won't raise your head to breathe. With hindsight I can see I was headed for burnout and that I did not need to be such an idealist.

So let's get back to when the world shut down in March. I was on the return journey home and became stranded on the final leg. I watched as the world was taken in a frenzy of death, illness and economic woes due to the Covid19 pandemic. I also watched as people tried to adjust to lockdown and social distancing. I read avidly about people learning new languages, starting a degree, cooking. spending time with their families, reading, having dance parties on Zoom, exercising on rooftops and balconies etc..The point was they were at home not somewhere in between. I did not have the heart to cook and I did not have the place to exercise on the balcony  what with it being freezing and windy!   I did not feel settled enough to learn something new, after all, I just lost my job yet had to ensure the office was closed down properly while  my country was at war and facing a pandemic. I feared for my family's life and I had none of the material things which I wanted with me during a lockdown. So I binged on #Neflix, chatted with my BFF, read some books on #Kindle and started eating jars of Nutella ! This situation lasted until I arrived safely home  on 15 May, 2020. That is my official lockdown date; before that was purgatory. 

So on May 16, I wake up at home, facing a self imposed, self isolation for 14 days, exhausted with two more weeks of Ramadan to go but somehow full of hope. For the first time, I had nowhere to hurry to. I could take my time. I had all the time in the world if I survived the civil war raging outside. Time was the most expensive commodity. My mother always used to mention an Arabic proverb which said that : "time is like a sword, if you don't cut it, it will cut you". I can still hear her words ringing in my head. 

I have been at home for a little over two months now. I relish talking to my father and experiencing the teenage tantrums of  my niece. Watching TV together, arguing about silly things, sitting in the balcony looking at the blue sky , cuddling with the cat, reading my stash of books, using my expensive face creams, discovering mum's recipes..My father would share with me vacancy links but all I could think about  was: not now, I am not ready. It's been a trip into memory lane but also mindfulness and decluttering. I had read so much about these two topics but putting them into practice was a struggle. So I thought I would begin with my beauty products and it was when I found a lovely jar of bath crystals and had a relaxing foot bath  that  the extent of how much I had  neglected my own well being hit me. There while soaking my feet and reading a book on a log lost civilisation, I started crying. Why was this activity no longer something I did regularly? I had those crystals since 2017! It took three years, unemployment and a global pandemic for them to find their way to me. 

It was a time for introspection!.... This was not right, it must run deeper than just plain workaholism.... As I had more time I discovered so many little things where I shortchanged myself:  being inactive, ignoring medical issues, ignoring sports injuries, not sleeping enough, tons of clothes since with their price tags in the closet, hair products, jewellery and accessories which I completely forgot. But the problem was not just personal material and body issues but also friendships that somehow fell of the radar and yet were important.. All this I discovered because I put everyone else before me and I was trying to push aside my mother's tragic death... not mourning meant there was unfinished business. Not having closures means you ruminate about the past constantly. Trauma was deepening and accumulating. The good thing I finally was accepting and acknowledging this which means it was easier to do something about it. 

The forced break of Covid19 has given many of us a grip back on our mad life. As much as it is scary what is happening to our world, planet and everything we know as much as I like to see this shake up with  a silver lining if we try and keep our distance. 

I gave myself the right to just enjoy being at home and daydream, read, think, explore very deep within my soul what and who  is it that is important to me

The answer will help shape the next decade of my life....

Operation Going Back to Tripoli

It's been exactly two months since I returned to Tripoli on one of the numerous repatriation flights for Libyan travellers stranded overseas.
I spent 66 days in Istanbul!
Days when I felt my life had stopped and where I had one goal only in sight namely to go back home.

To that end once the first couple of weeks had elapsed, I started project "Going back to Tripoli":

• I inquired at the Consulate  3 times a week about any updates and started following their Facebook page.
• I joined a Facebook group called "الليبيين العالقين في اسطنبول"  i.e Libyans stranded in Istanbul to get live news about what is going on and the situation of repatriation flights. There are thousands of Libyans on this page and being able to commiserate, cheer each other up, find out how to get things while in lockdown and any updates from back home as everyone knows someone who knows someone .....This page was my lifeline. It has recently been renamed as "Libyan Conversations in Turkey" as most of the original founders and admins are now back home and so it now serves Libyans in a more general way. 
• I tapped into my contacts for any info on how I could be included on one of the official non-commercial flight back home - but I was not a VIP and therefore that never panned out.
• When I gave up on normal transport I checked with my travel insurance if they would cover the cost of hiring a private jet  -> I know, sounds crazy right but it could have worked ....

Flight Tracking Radar Tweep 😎

• I started following all the radar gurus on social media who monitored flights in and out of Libya. The airspace was still super busy so how come I could not get one single place home? by hook or by crook?                         

• I started looking for options to travel by sea and contacted transport merchant ships for a chance to get on board as a passenger. Apparently even if I could get past the Turkish authorities I would not be allowed to disembark in Libya... plus it was a cargo ship full of sailors and no women. Negative too.

• Then when my desperation grew  worse I contacted private international flight operators. I finally settled on one company who quoted a price that if I shared it with 5 other passengers maximum  would at this point be affordable. Basically I would spend the savings meticulously put aside for my big summer vacation around Europe; but I figured it was worth it since no vacation will be possible in 2020 what with the COVID19 situation. The plan was how to discreetly recruit 5 other passengers without creating a ruckus around me. After postings on Twitter and Facebook and phone calls to different friends and family members I managed to get hold of 5 others willing to share the cost of chartering  our  private jet. Unfortunately by then Libyan Aviation Authority stopped allowing private jets with Libyan travellers on board (unless you are VIP of course) and so after we paid the invoice as prerequisite for starting the process, the operator could not get the permit to land anymore. I tried very hard with all my contacts to get a special clearance even showing that we will abide by any rigorous quarantine requested from us to no avail. That was a hard blow, to start the re-imbursement process after our hopes were raised.

• At this point Libyan authorities had finally come up with a plan. You take a COVID19 test, then quarantine at the designated hotels in Istanbul for 14 days then take another test and if both are negative you get sent home. I thought it was a waste of public money but hey who was to talk!  The problem ? It was not easy, how to get on the rota? I had already registered but needed to wait for my name to  be listed and paired with hotel. There were thousands of  people still before me already distributed in 13 hotels. 
• As the war on Tripoli became more intense with casualties mounting, my anguish increased exponentially. By now I started following the accounts of rescue ships in the Mediterranean Sea in case I could get a ride on them. I dabbled with looking into the people smuggling business but I was not even sure it existed in the reverse direction as in from North to South. I was aghast at how were all these illegal migrants who took to the sea able to get in touch with patrons.  I looked into ordering a Thuraya phone in the event that I do find a way back by sea. That's when I realised that I did not know any bandits or criminals and have had no dealings of that sort ever in my life. A gap that needed to be filled to thrive in today's Libya. I remembered almost ironically my colleague's remark when I became stranded at the beginning. " Do your best to get as soon as possible home Intissar, but don't get mixed up with pirates ! " I desperately needed a pirate now but did not know any unfortunately. 
• Those two intense months were quasi unreal, I made some friends online thru social media which helped preserve my sanity even though I was in daily contact with my family and BFFs and I am forever grateful for these people. Maybe it was the same for them as they were all stuck in or outside Libya and wanting to move on with their lives. I also received immense support from followers on Twitter and Facebook.

• Then, I  turned to another option, there was talk of repatriation via private flights to Benghazi and I was ready to get on any of them and then worry about the more than 1000 km drive back to Tripoli across major combat frontlines and desert land but it never materialised. I tried traveling to other countries where repatriation to Libya was sooner on the schedule but this proved impossible.
• I even looked into getting a place on an Air Ambulance but was unsuccessful.
• The likelihood of not being at home and something grave happening was killing me  bit by bit and the prospect of not being in control of my destiny almost gave me a heart attack. Project Going back to #Tripoli looked like it was not bearing fruits. The holy month of Ramadan had begun. I had never missed a Ramadan at home unless I was taking an exam abroad. The nightmare staring at me in the face was untenable!
• That's when my body gave out and experienced "stroke like" symptoms. Imagine calling an ambulance in the midst of a pandemic in a foreign land and going to the ER and being referred to a neurosurgeon all within one day only before finally entering the quarantine hotel to start your journey home. It was not even a choice, I took the path home and left the medical decision to God and to after the Covid situation is under control world-wide. Now was the time to be with family, feel their love, share what they are enduring.... Time to look inward. 

My luggage finally out of the door

• The 14 days in the La Quinta by Wyndham hotel journey, courtesy of the Libyan Consulate began. This was a complete lockdown even worse than my 50 days alone before. Because then I was in a flat with a scenic view and fresh air. I could visit the sitting room  or the bedroom, stand on the terrace at least. Here in the hotel, I barely went out of my room and you were not allowed to roam the hallways. Because of my food allergies my meals were delivered to me. The hotel was locked from the outside once we all did the COVID test. In a way it was liberating, I now gave myself the right to stop pursuing Operation Going back to Tripoli. I was helpless and I could totally binge on Netflix day and night, or search  for the best way to make my meals palatable. Winter had turned into warm spring, whilst my wardrobe was fitted for the Canadian weather of February. Finally the day my second test came back negative I could relish the dream of boarding that flight home. I did not even worry about how I was going to get from Misrata to Tripoli after we land. One step at a time I told myself. We were still in the thick of the aerial shelling of Tripoli and the frontlines were very fluid and dramatic.

Bob

• I posted  in detail about my trip back home ( check it out if you can read Arabic). I was grateful that I would still get to spend the last third of Ramadan with my family even if I would be mostly self isolating. I dreamt of the delicious home made meals....as cooking on my own had not worked out so well. The heart was not in it,  my focus was only to get to Tripoli. 

Two months since the bus dropped me at the traffic light on the Main Street closest to our house in Tripoli at 10.30 pm and I don't regret for one second picking the route home. Sometimes I felt like a drug dealer, at others like 007 but most of the time I tried to avoid feeling helpless. 

At the end of the day Operation Going Back to Tripoli  did succeed, as thousands of my compatriots, friends and colleagues remain stranded on different continents awaiting their countries procedures. Sadly I had to leave behind my 2 month old friend the cactus Bob as I could not transport him without damaging him. I hope someone from the hotel staff adopted him. 

It has been 5 months since a tiny virus called Corona literally brought the world to a halt and I am blessed to be with my loved ones enjoying a respite in the Tripoli conflict as the guns have fallen silent after 451 days. Let's take a bit of time to breath and recuperate and watch this space for my next installment : A time for introspection soon. 

The bus home !