The long Libyan coast ...
Trip Start
May 17, 2010
1
5
34
Trip End
Feb 10, 2012
Benghazi, Libya
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Many of my treasured memories of travel are recollections of sitting.
Great Socialist People's Libyan Arab Jamahiriya. Aka Libya.
Libya has not the happiest of reputations – a fact Libyans are well aware of. After a long period of political isolation it is now, since Colonel Qaddafi has taken steps to improve international relations, a country getting better known. It is a mixture of a Mediterranean country, an African country; a Middle East Islamic country; a country with outstanding beaches and spectacular ancient sites dating back to the Greeks and Romans, and quite the most hospitable, charming people. Jamahiriya means “state of the masses” as the masses supposedly govern – in reality the authoritarian regime is ruled by Qaddafi from the northern harbour town of Sirte. He has no official title, it is a military dictatorship. The Libyan flag is plain green. We were told it means peace. We were told it is the colour of Islam. We were also told that Qaddafi, furious after President Sadat of Egypt visited and acknowledged the existence of Israel, said the flag must be changed as it was the same as the Egyptian one which had flown beside the Israeli flag. They sat around discussing what the new flag should look like and Qaddafi noticed a piece of green paper on the floor – that's it,he says, plain green.
Entering the country was relatively easy. You must book through an agency of sorts. We used Arkno Tours (the one in Holland but the same company are in London info@arknouk.com) You need to be “invited” which the tour company do. All visitors have an itinerary, and a guide – and so did we. Milud, our guide met us at the Tunisian border and was with us throughout – he moved in. Arriving he sorted the paperwork – the carnet de passage, the passport stamping, the money paid on entry (about 350 euros), the acquiring of local numberplates.
Qaddafi has been in power since 1st September 1969. There is no democracy. No constitution. No electoral system. Political parties are illegal. As to the future, the Libyans seem to think that whoever is in charge nothing much will alter. Qaddafi will not leave voluntarily they say, lest he be arrested and put on trial. He seems to dispense largesse haphazardly. We met farmers to whom he had given a house and land. And we were told of ten poets who were each given valuable cars. He kept a pretty tight rein on the country – loosening it a bit now. We were told a story about him and/or how Libya got bananas. He decided, many years ago, that as Libya did not grow bananas that the country could manage quite well without them. So a generation grew up seeing only pictures of bananas in books. Then came the Falklands War (1982) and Qaddafi sent arms to Argentina. However Argentina was strapped for cash, so instead paying paying cash for the arms, they - you guessed it - paid in bananas.
We drove the some 1,170 kms along the coast round the Gulf of Sirte. Desert like, barren land in places. Flat land. Palm trees. Towards the west the land rises and trees (trees!) appear – pines, rather than the desert palms. And something suspiciously like grass appears on the road verges. All along the roadside are cars and lorries for sale. There is no public transport – just the odd bus along the long coast road, so everyone has a car and with petrol at 20 gersh (sp?), a fifth of one dinar, and one dinar equals .75 of an euro – well, it is cheap. On arrival we filled one tank with 466 litres for about 43 euros. Leaving we filled up both tanks – 611 litres for 91 dinars. Petrol is truly cheaper than water. Libya's reserves of oil pays for free schooling and free medicine (although there are private versions of both). Housing – building is going on apace – housing is allotted and the “rent” eventually pays for the house. It also pays for the only river in Libya – the Great Man Made River - running from the desert through pipes 4 metres square it siphons water from beneath the desert in the south to the large cities in the north – running downhill. Adjoining countries have queried the effect upon the ecology of the desert. Only 4% of the country is down to agriculture, growing largely olives. And this is a land that has rubbish disposal problems. Tourism is yet to make a mark or make money. Women are, in theory, legally, equal. Practically – in your dreams, ladies. I think I was halfway between an honorary man and a woman. The old men and the young did address me directly. The others acknowledged me. I met no women save one to whom I chatted in the street. I saw only one woman un-headscarved – she had on a dress and high, high heels and was safely inside a posh hotel.
Most visitors come for the ancient sites – Sabratha, Leptis Magna, Cyrene. All huge. All interesting. All devoid of tourists, I think we saw six Chinese at Leptis Magna. Leptis Magna is the most impressive – once a jewel in Roman Africa. Through this city olive oil flowed to Rome, along with the lions destined for the Coloseum. Cyrene is still being excavated. It sits high in the hills with stunning views across to the coast. It reached its peak in the days of Greek inhabitation and later under Emperor Hadrian, but earthquakes and the Islamic invasion led to its decline. Libya has been an Islamic country since the 7th century, and today the people are pious. We visited Tripoli on a Friday and in the Medina all was closed and the roads were empty – perhaps fortunately as Libyan drivers have a reputation, and not one for the excellence of their driving. Islamic religion has five pillars. Profession of faith to Allah (God) and Mohammed as his prophet; prayer (five times daily); alms giving (a percentage of their income); fasting (Ramadan); pilgrimage (the haj to Mecca.)
But what made Libya for me; and it is the reason why I travel and why I so love travelling the way we are which gets us to places others would never reach – it's the people, the locals. Our first night we parked up alongside a mosque – our guide's
local – we got a tour and an invite to tea with some of the locals – an ex army Colonel, an old guy who had been a servant in the house of the Italian Ambassador, a telecommunications man. Having the guide here is a bonus – he can interpret. We sat on the carpet, lounged on the cushions, sipped tea and talked. The second night – after a walk along the beach – a beach full entirely of men in groups of eight or so who were in the evening cooking fish and smoking waterpipes and all of whom greeted us with cheerful enthusiasm – the guards of a site being done up (Villa Silin) insisted we stay inside their compound. The following night found us parked inland on apparently rough and untended land. Soon the local farmer arrived to welcome us onto his land, invited us to see his herd of goats, meet his brothers, come and eat a pile of cous cous, vegetables and lamb. “Yesterday when we slaughtered the lamb we did not think what guests we would have tonight.” We sat on the carpet under the stars and learnt about their lives and they gave me a pillow as a gift. A guy in Tripoli gave me a ring. “You are in Libya now.”
Everyone we met was hospitable and polite, and I was quite touched at being asked “what is your name, my mother”. After the night at the farmers we parked in the desert, white sand, scrubby bushes. Again an apparent desolate place, but a village called Gabes, and the locals soon arrived and brought with them buckets full of grapes and figs, and questions. An enchanting 80 year old man for whom the expression “having a twinkle in his eye” could have been invented, literally bounced over oozing life and glee and “imagine you are at home – if you want land for a house, you may have it – if you want anything from us, ask”. He sang us wedding songs and said he was content because “my heart is as white as my scarf because I forgive my enemies” which seems to me a pretty good life philosophy (don't bear grudges), and it is one that made him one of the most content people I have ever met. In the morning we were brought yogurt and bread freshly baked; and then help when the truck got stuck in the sand. A goatherder from Chad wandered by; he stays in touch with his family by mobile phone. Forget all these boring conversations about being on the 11.27 – the mobile phone has transformed life in Africa.
Our last day – we had only seven in Libya – we rapidly came up to date visiting war cemeteries at Tobruk. The Allied and Axis forces were fighting in the desert for a couple of years. The cemeteries are so beautifully cared for, those who died so young and now most of those who knew them are also dead; they are places of sadness and regret but they will always be there and recall history. One cemetery is called Knightsbridge (?) It is near the Fig Tree Hospital which is a huge cavern under the ground sheltered by fig trees which was an Australian field hospital. The “mother of all figs” it is called, as many of the men took home with them seeds which now flourish in Australia.
As you may have guessed – we both loved our time in Libya. Swam in deserted beaches in delicious water; ate a lot of cous cous, vegetables cooked in an oil, garlic, cumin sauce, meals all being with salad and lentil or bean soup. Cheapest meal for three – 9 dinars. Most expensive, 30 dinars. 30 dinars being about 20 euros. Nothing went wrong – we had to wait for Egypt for that. On that cliff hanger … til next time. Rowan
