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 !

Stranded in Turkey in the times of Corona

Staying at home

I have lived in or visited ( for more than 3 days)  a total of 34 countries . I  have not counted any  period less nor transit trips nor repeat visits as some places were visited between 5 to 10 times a year.

It is almost like travelling has been my passion since the day I was born! I remember going for weekends to Beirut in the 60s Dakkar in the 70s or London in 2000s.. Yes when I reflect back it seems I led a charmed life - whatever that means –lucky breaks or tragedies.  

For the past 7 years my job required me to travel often to neighbouring countries or to Europe, Asia and North America for meetings, conferences and workshops. It was exciting but also exhausting yet provided an interesting background to my life in Libya during an active civil war. On my final business trip in March 2020, the Covid19 pandemic caught up with me and finally grounded me in Istanbul (Turkey). During seven years of a gruelling war, bombed airports, shelled cities, militia fights and you name it, I always managed to get home. No rockets ever completely stopped the Libyan spirit and our airports always stood back on their feet making up to the best of their abilities for gruelling international flight bans and serving  the Libyan travellers to the limited destinations left to them out of Libya. 

Basically the various Libyan companies operating flights ( Buraq, Libya Airways, Libya Wings, Afriqiyah, Rahila etc….) and even the air ambulance could only fly to : Amman, Alexandria, Khartoum, Nigeria, Tunis, Istanbul and a special foreign charter flight to Malta, + Jeddah during the Hajj season.  Following the Tripoli war of 2014, 99.9% of the world slapped visas on Libyan passport holders and from the above list only, Tunisia exempts us from visa requirement. Tunis and Istanbul became a hub for connecting flights.  Internal travel was also disrupted between Benghazi and Tripoli post April 2019 creating a virtual checkpoint in airspace disrupting lives and livelihoods, because one side of the country had the monopoly on flights to the Middle East while it still was able to fly to Tunis and the other side of the country could only go to Tunis and Istanbul otherwise it will be shot down by the fighter jets of the Libyan National Army operating in Benghazi.  Therefore a de-facto physical division of the country occurred.

Between 15 and 16 March regardless where your city is, if your airport destination was western Libya then you have a become a statistic in airports and countries all over the world. It was 19 March if your airport destination was in eastern Libya. The authorities in the west (I will call them Weststan) gave no initial warning of the land, sea and air closures, while those in the east (whom I will call Eaststan) where a little more lenient and sent a warning  4 days in advance. Neither had any strategy for dealing with the citizens who found themselves, penniless, homeless, paperless, stateless and isolated, during a worldwide pandemic . Classic botched up job no less!

I could not believe how I on earth I managed to find myself on the wrong side of the fence at this most important time in history!

Working from home

Since the plans to celebrate my upcoming freedom from employment and go on a long vacation were shelved due to the increased impact of the  Covid19 contagion, I had an alternative plan namely to enjoy social distancing with the 450 books and 300 magazines purchased in the last 6 years, learn hip-hop, unearth my mother’s cooking recipes and play chess with my dad. None of that happened, I found myself alone in Turkey, stuck at home in winter, struggling to remember how to operate the oven and make a meal with arthritic hands. In 30 days the number of people I spoke to in person can be counted on the fingers of one hand, including the cashier at the market. Thankfully I was able to speak to my father and some friends online . In the first 3 weeks I still had a job and some work to finish so I could pretend that I had a structure to my day and thing will improve and I could go home.

I registered with the Libyan Consulate and gave them my phone number so they could contact me when the repatriation flights start as I had decided to stay in my own place. If you take the accommodation they had started offering you have to give up your passport. Something I would never do considering how hard it is to get a Libyan passport in the current circumstances. Also how can you do social distancing if they would put me up with a total stranger in the same room?

My neighbours

It’s been a long journey from the 16^th of March (I won’t count the days before that as this was the last day I had seen an airport).  I have become accustomed to being a hermit, and so now find myself at a loss for words when I speak to others. The few times I went out for supplies I feared going near people. I had plans to start a distance learning course but did not have the discipline to do it because my energy was drained being angry at how did I get stuck here and I should be home helping and enduring  the war with my father. The prison I had chosen is in one of the housing compounds on the suburbs of Istanbul, mountainous, far away and isolated. The point was I did not want crowds. The highlight of my days became the daily passage of a herd of cows in the valley across my temporary refuge. There are 6 brown cows, 13 mixed colour and  3 brown ones. There are two shepherds. My favourite bull is a brown one with shortish horns. Sometimes I wave to them. On my two-week anniversary in detention I went out to replenish my supplies and enjoy a bicycle ride in the spring. The supermarket is a couple of kilometres away.  I was able to see the cows up close and was a bit afraid of my friend the bull. What if he attacked me? The shepherd looked at me with curiosity because I was singing loudly in the street. That day I bought a cactus and named him Bob. Bob is very low maintenance and won’t mind when I don’t feel like having a conversation.

My friend Bob

I want to go home and have been knocking at different doors, not leaving any stone unturned, but I don’t have any VIP pull, so I have reached the point of looking for pirate ships but I don’t know how to contact pirates! I am living in limbo: neither here nor there! 

It has been a month and  Libya has still not come up with any decent strategy to repatriate the  approximately 7000 citizens stranded abroad, 3000 of whom I was told are in Turkey. Turkey is a lovely country  in ordinary time, but these are extraordinary time and it is the 7th worst hit  Corona country in the world.  It is disheartening to  put the life of Libyan travellers at risk by keeping them prisoners with not choice but to also see the people who were here for a  two day meeting, or medical treatment, a vacation from the madness at home or studying or just passing by like me, be separated from their families, or unable to bury a dead with them, or not able to complete treatment because the hospitals discharged them as non essential treatment, or unable to continue their studies. So many stories intermingled with war, hate speech, sadness, feeling let down by your country and worried about what next as you cannot assess the change that is happening in the world when you are not staying in a familiar place. We are told we need to keep our immune system strong to fight the disease, how is that going to happen I wonder? The other day I looked at my luggage and found that the things of only  a month ago feel like another lifetime.