Solar Power, the Great Man Made River and the Environment

I was pleasantly surprised to read about the announcement of the projected building of solar plants along the Great Man Made River (GMMR) in Libya to guarantee the availability of water to towns and counteract the massive crippling power cuts we have been experiencing due to quasi a decade of civil war.

This is a  USAID project with a number of  international partners  namely UNSMIL  and UNDP plus one Libyan partner:  the Libyan Local Investment and Development Fund.

Being a cheerleader for entrepreneurship and sustainable livelihoods and having experience in development project, I think it's a great  initiative and much needed step to encourage renewable energy which will rightly create jobs.  

So I was wondering who are the companies that will install these panels and accompanying equipment. Are they local businesses ? Because we do have a growing number of Libyan business people who operate in this sector due to the growing market in Libya as a result of increased power cuts (long story maybe another post).  Different businesses/jobs would rise from these plants and provide the opportunity for the Libyan engineers to gain more experience and income. Or will this be given to a foreign company ? I have not seen the tender announcements yet but it would be awesome to see Libyans do this. Keeping fingers crossed.

The other thing that crossed my mind, is the land public or private? if private will it be purchased or will the owners get royalties? So many questions running in my head. 

Now the high-school environment buff in me, one of those people we used to call 'tree huggers' a lifetime ago got thinking if we made the necessary environment impact studies or will that be included in the terms of reference for whoever will be carrying out the recce mission? I have recently been reading about  India's experience as one of the largest investors in renewable energy. Apparently sometimes  large scale solar projects could create more problems than they solve.😕

[[Four of the top five investments in renewable energy in 2019 were in India. “In second place came the US, down 8% at $797 million, and Europe was third, climbing 14% to $443 million,”]]

This part had me particularly worried in water starved Libya :

[[Large solar power plants require between 7,000 and 20,000 litres of water per megawatt per wash--an average water tanker has 5,000 litres capacity, and a wash is needed at least twice a year. And since they are mostly located in arid and semi-arid ecosystems, they add to the water stress of local regions. Requiring an average of five acres per megawatt, solar power plants are also land-intensive sources of energy, said experts.]]

I am not an engineer or technical expert on  solar panels so it all could be very easy, but I wonder if the Libyan environmental laws have been modernised after 2011? 

The GMMR is vital to  Libyans so I hope it has all been worked out well. Would love to hear more about it.

From Wikipedia

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 !

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.

Liberating Tripoli One More Time in Berlin?

In February 2011 Libyans and the world watched how the rebels in Benghazi stormed the army barracks  or Fadil Katiba, a few days after the flame of the revolution inspired by the “Arab Spring” was lighted; and one of the hallmarks of that rebellion against the Gaddafi  regime for which the residents of Libya’s second largest city continue to derive pride from is that it took them only three days to liberate themselves after overcoming the “Katiba”. 

Attacking the Katiba of course required immense courage and self-sacrifice. Though if the army holding it had not backed off or joined the rebels it would have been another story most probably resulting in carnage. Most of the Libyan military in that part of the country either joined the rebellion or stayed put somewhere.  I like to believe that this was not out of fear but rather to avoid further bloodshed when they realised that the protesters  were innocent civilians and some probably family members. This shows that the army/police held off to save lives and that they cared about their compatriots.  Another example are the Libyan pilots that Gaddafi sent to bomb Benghazi who also aborted their mission and defected to Malta. They never shelled their own compatriots in the east of the country.

In 2011, I was scared to death of what the Gaddafi forces would do, but when I saw  and read about how they behaved in the Katiba  during those early days full of confusion and the large number of defectors from their ranks  who rebelled against dictatorship and the personal stories experienced by others across Tripoli and other cities, one of which was to save my own mother’s life in 2011, I knew there was hope in them and that blood is not water as the proverb says. My morale was boosted and I felt that since many of these well trained combatants had their hearts in the right place we would eventually  be fine when the war ends and they felt safe to rejoin the Libyan society without fear or intimidation or vengeful retaliation.  

Unfortunately, after  the NATO intervention and the conclusion of the 2011 war with the brutal killing of Gaddafi, the  police, military  and other members of the security apparatus and even ordinary employees of the Libyan government were  systematically mistreated and mistrusted regardless if they had defected or stayed home.  There were also many revenge missions on entire cities accused of having aided or abetted Gadaffi loyalists . This injustice  which was not unanimously condoned contributed to further breaking the social bonds in the country.

In the second half of 2012 the honeymoon period ended brutally with the slow rise and infiltration of the Islamists tendencies in many parts of the country who were of course emboldened by their major contribution to the liberation of the country from Gaddafi and their goal to seize an opportunity to have a say in Libyan politics. Though Libyans showed many times at the ballot that they were against this lot, many did not effectively stand up to them in real life whether in Benghazi, Tripoli or any other city. After all this group was mostly harassing women, burial grounds , banking methods, social behaviour by favouring polygamy and therefore those topics were seen to be secondary to the all important ones of  having a constitution and  disarmament.

Local homegrown Islamist militias in Benghazi started to increasingly terrorise the city in that period  with assassinations and kidnapping and especially in 2013 and were courageously repelled by the civilian population. According to the narrative they were helped by their ideological buddies from Misrata with supplies, but they were definitely locals fighting their own people in their own city. Tripoli at that time was full of the militia rebels which had descended on it from all cities and of course liked what they saw and stopped wanting to leave. Who would blame them? Imagine you live in a remote village in the US and you arrive in New York as a hero and get to enjoy it for free since you have military power ? The militias in Tripoli having outlived their welcome became burdensome and started meddling in politics/economy/international relations/day to day life  in addition to each seeking personal gains or favours for their area, region, city or positions….Each time fighting with each other and resulting in damage to some part of Tripoli and to the death of civilians, until Tripoli residents had enough and stood up to them in the last quarter of 2013 resulting of course in the massacre of civilians in Gargour. 

During the election in 2014, the Islamists who lost again contested the results and militias that had backed off  mostly from Misrata descended on Tripoli, destroyed Tripoli international airport and other infrastructure and resulted in the evacuation of most companies and foreign institutions and international community from Libya to Tunisia. The parliament which was elected by the voters had to run to Tobruk as it was not welcome in Benghazi ( not sure why) and the ruling entity in Tripoli re-shuffled and re-arranged themselves to satisfy the invaders of 2014 .. Meanwhile in Benghazi, FM Haftar had started to rise as he promised to eradicate terrorists/Islamists who were playing havoc in Benghazi and he was joined by his tribe but also by numerous numbers from the old Libyan military (Gaddafi army) and several rebel militias in Benghazi in the Karama operation. 

The Karama operation, regardless of personal ambition ( everyone has them) sounded like a better deal than the Fajr guys who destroyed the peace in Tripoli. Karama  was an alliance led  by members of the Libyan army.  The same  army that refused to kill its own sons and daughters in 2011. It therefore respected its people, it wanted to be part of Libya, it wanted to have a vital role in saving the country from the people who led it to the abyss and since the Benghazinos trusted it and did not mind the means it was taking to clean up their city, I felt that Libya would be in good hands if the military rule returned to it once again. After all many seemed to agree that it was the only way to get rid of undemocratic usurpers ( I know it sounds like an oxymoron but when you are desperate for peace any straw helps). Then the UN surprised us with another addition: the GNA ! So we had HOR in Tobruk, Libyan Army in Benghazi, parliament of 2014 post Fajr in Tripoli and then GNA in Tripoli and not sure how many warlords in the south. The Libyan Army ( with whoever was allied to it ) in Benghazi was busy for many  years fighting a war in that city. Sometimes it was difficult to figure out who was killing who and we prayed  that  they knew what they were doing and since this was the will of the residents of Benghazi then it was good. Meanwhile Misrata was busy rooting out ISIS from Sirte with logistical support from western countries. The militias in Tripoli on the other hand were busy fighting each other over turf and making life difficult for its residents with a battle breaking out once or twice a year….. No one was able to make them join a real army or be under one commander nor disarm. I have no idea where the old Libyan army from that part of the country was ? Probably in exile or just hiding in other cities… Tripoli residents were increasing from an influx of IDPs from Benghazi, Derna, Sirte, Tawergha, Sebha etc… either running away from war or seeking better economic opportunities.  Tripoli residents were increasingly suffering since 2014  not only from the strain of overpopulation but also from power cuts, fuel shortages, water cuts, lack of cash in banks, 200% rise in prices, gigantic inflation.. etc… It was not sustainable…but they were not much able to do anything about the militias as these became part of  the mechanism of various authorities in the city controlling things. Each battle between the militias weakened one faction until the Misratis mostly left back to their town and we ended up with our own local militias as the best employer in town. One day another militia from outside Tripoli, from the city of Tarhouna decided to take a chance too in late 2018, they were repelled with heavy losses on both sides. Apparently the bulk of the Libyan army from the west of the country was part of that invading militia. In the meantime efforts all over the country and internationally were being made to finally getting all Libyan factions to meet around a peace table inside Libya  -for once instead of  the circus rigmarole  of other cites in Europe/Africa/Asia. A few days before this peace process took place, the Libyan Army in the east of Libya which had emerged victorious in Benghazi and Sebha ( south) surprised the residents of Tripoli and the world with an attack on the city.

To be honest a large number of Tripolitanian city dwellers myself amongst them had trust in this army and its noble aspirations. After all let us not forget that it contained numerous elements of the old Libyan army ( as mentioned before)  who showed restraint and humanity towards their compatriots and therefore we believed in its nobility especially after seeing all the footage of the training of cadets in Benghazi and elsewhere and how professional they all looked. I imagined the Libyan Army marching beautifully into Tripoli in a show of strength to save us. The civilians are unarmed so will not put up a fight especially if they are anticipating and waiting for the protector and to join the ranks.. But the timing was weird and the combatants did not look like the forces we saw on TV and there was no peaceful entrance into the city. The first thing done was shell civilian infrastructure making life so much harder and changing the whole scenario. Still people were hopeful there must be a plan…. The commander of the Libyan army had promised to protect the city, to spare civilians, he said that he was there for us and we had every reason to trust him. In order for stability to prevail many agreed that Libya must be ruled by one entity and the people have had  it with the misery brought forth by militias but we also learned to live with them in anticipation of the success of the talks that would help divide the resources and power  equitably among Libyans - since this was the main reason of most of the disagreements. The problem is that the liberation of Tripoli did not take the 48hrs promised but has dragged on since April 2019 and we are now already in January 2020. It brought with it foreign mercenaries and interventions and arms sales from different countries. It brought with it so much hate speech and Tripoli residents don’t know why is there such hatred if they are the victims and a whole army has moved 1000 km in order to liberate and protect them. They want the protection of the army, they want to be saved by their Libyan army  and they want it to  be just and  humane and professional like it did in 2011 and during the years it saved Benghazi from terrorism. We want to see a Libyan Army helping the citizen in need, carrying children, elderly, women, manning the borders, giving blood, protecting private property etc… This is the image I have of them in my head and I wonder why is the social media full of atrocities?  Please please share with us good footage and deeds. Don’t keep us in the dark because that feeds misunderstandings… We had enough of terror so don’t add to it… 

Why Hardened Faces?

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.