Archives for posts with tag: Libya

I went to watch the movie “The Help” with some other people in my programme yesterday. The movie is very good, but one scene made my mind wander and would eventually result in this insomnia-induced blog post. The main character’s family (and domestic help) all gathered in the living room to watch the news of JFK’s death.

Being in the States on the tenth anniversary of 9/11 prompted a similar reaction in my head, as I tried to piece together the last ten years of my life in relation to the various events of History I have had the fortune to witnessed.

Italy, 11 September 2001

I am putting on my boy scout uniform (ha, now you know my dirty secret!). In my town the boy scouts are responsible for providing a human cordon for a religious procession that takes place every year. It’s a sticky late summer afternoon and at 3 pm I am watching Ally McBeal on TV. I am already indifferent to the Catholic Church and its obsolete rituals, but for the sake of tradition I just put that uniform on. It is around 15:45 pm and we are late. The Ally McBeal episode is interrupted by news footage of planes flying into the twin towers. I do not think much of it, it all seems distant and surreal to me so I just hurry up and leave the house.

London, 15 February 2003

I was studying in Wales and kids in my (very liberal, tree-hugging, fantastic) school organised buses to join the anti-Iraq war protest in London. The other students are all more politically aware than me and more outspoken against the Blair-Bush decision to invade Iraq. I am really puzzled and do not know what to think. Having grown up in a politically-conservative family, my political journey towards the left had been one of self-questioning a lot of what I had been taught and exercise critical thinking. I was jealous of my friends for their unshaken beliefs. On 15 February approximately one million people went down to protest in London, the biggest protest ever recorded in the history of the city. On that day, it is estimated that between six and ten million people around the world protested against the decision to invade Iraq. I was one of them.

Cairo, July 2007

I finally  managed to get an internship in an international organization. It is my first day and my supervisor is showing me the ropes. As I sit at my desk doing a press review of regional newspapers, I can see the waiting room where five/six families of Iraqi refugees are waiting for their resettlement interview to go to the United States. I suddenly feel like history is not something you just witness on TV. I remember all the doubts I had when I marched in London four years before. I was right, but I did not know it back then.

Benghazi, April 2011

I have always thought of myself as a pacifist. It seemed a pretty obvious thing to me. Whenever asked, I would just say that war is wrong in that it violates the sanctity of human life. It had all been a purely intellectual exercise, that pacifism of mine. I am working in a transit centre for displaced people in Libya. It’s Easter Sunday and we have a bit of a management crisis. The camp is full to over twice its capacity and people are getting edgy. I call my family to wish them a Happy Easter and to tell them that everything is ok. I ask them what they are having for lunch and I secretly wish I could be there. I feel bad my parents are worried about me. A few minutes later my colleague and I are sandwiched in between one hundred angry people and a security man armed to its teeth. We try to talk to the people to diffuse the tension and avoid that the security man starts shooting his machine gun into the air, just like he did a few minutes ago. I am standing right in between them and this man, his machine gun twenty cm away from my face. Unarmed people keep pushing me towards the machine gun. I finally know why I am a pacifist. You put a weapon in a person’s hand and he/she thinks they are God’s gift to the planet.

New Jersey, 11 September 2011

It is the ten-year anniversary of September 11. It’s all over the news. The day goes by in a haze because I have one of the worst hangovers of my life. I am barely able to process things. I quickly look at the walls of my Facebook friends, people I have met in the past ten years. For some of them 9/11 was the day America lost its innocence, they mostly leave in the West. For others it was the trigger of a spiral of death and hate, they mostly leave in the Middle East. My friend C says “Number of people killed on all sides during or as a consequence of 9/11: 131,000 (low estimate). If I had to go in front of God or a Galactic Council as a representative of humankind and justify this, I’d be ashamed“. For me, 9/11 marks the tenth anniversary of the day I became a pacifist.

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I am writing this on my last day in Benghazi. I was supposed to leave on a flight at 8 am but I am stranded here because my flight has been, ehrm, delayed. So delayed I might end up driving back to Egypt tomorrow instead. The flight operation was managed between Italy, Malta and Egypt – the only way this could get worse is if the flight attendants were French. Of course none could have seen this cock-up coming.

I wish I could blog about my five weeks in Benghazi – but partly because I do not feel that a blog is the best platform to bitch and moan (or boast) about my work and partly because I am drained I do not think I will. Or maybe in the future I will, who knows. So you will not hear me talk about being given a morality check by a petroleum engineer; or sitting through endless coordination meetings that look like this; or having the pleasure to be on the receiving end of some 20 phone calls every day from journalists that cannot take no for an answer or being called a misogynist racist over-paid aid worker by a Spanish journalist that then called me a faggot.

So what I am going to talk about is the reactions I have been getting from people when I tell them that I will be leaving Egypt in August. Reactions from foreigners who just got off the boat but also some well seasoned expats that have been marinating in the region since Anwar El Sadat was in elementary school.

When I say that I will be taking unpaid leave from my job and thus leave Egypt in June, jaws drop and I am usually asked why I would live the region right now when things are getting ‘real exciting’. The same way you would tell someone who is leaving the cinema room in the midst of a gory murder scene to go buy pop corn.

I do not know why but I get slightly offended by these comments, by the superficiality of it. I feel like people are saying: why would you voluntarily give up a front seat as angry Arabs try to fight for their freedom? Maybe you will get to take a snap shot as the tanks roll into Deraa and get to post it on flickr or maybe you will be telling the grand-children that you watched the revolution as it took place on twitter and conversed with the local activists over Turkish coffee and shisha, part Robert Fisk part Lawrence of Arabia.

If you are enjoying watching churches being burnt down on TV in your flat in Zamalek and then blogging about it for the friends back home, than darling please call yourself by your real name: a free rider. Not paying any of the costs yet enjoying the benefits. (Sorry if this offends anyone – maybe I am also an opinionated, holier than thou free rider, but at least I am ok with it).

So here it is my thoughts on why I am not dying of fear of missing out:

  • Things are not just getting interesting. The region (and the world even, shall we say) is an interesting place even when things do not make headlines.
  • In my personal opinion, the real revolution has not even started and probably it will not start until a few months down the line. The symbols of power have been taken down, but the link between power and money has not been severed (let’s think large monopolistic interests linked to strategic industries such as the military). Ahmed Ezz maybe in prison, but I did not see many headlines on how the steel monopoly in Egypt is going to be open up to free and fair competition. Never been a fan of economic liberalism nor I am arguing that it is a cure, but I feel that if things change they will change when resources (especially public ones) are more equally redistributed and this is one of the issues that could be a litmus test – more so than democratic elections that can be used as a way to pacify outsiders and insiders’ anxiety about democratic reform (read: psychosis of a take-over by the Muslim Brothers) without really creating a shift in they way a country is run (again, not saying elections are useless, just they might end up being more of a symbol rather than a real process until they become an established pattern).

So let me get on with my life for a year or two and maybe come back when things will get even more interesting, yet they most probably will not be making the news (also, on a slightly different topic, a screenshot of what’s hot on aljazeera today, bonus material just for kicks).

Exclusive to Economic Revolution: Berlusconi-Qaddafi love correspondence

Milan, 15 March 2011

Dear Muammar,

I hope you can forgive me for what I said in public about you the other day. I was upset with this underage hooker that is after my money and I was not thinking things through.

I understand you do not want to talk to me now, but I hope we can be still together. I will never forget the night when you taught me how to bunga bunga in your bedouin tent. I hope we can go back to that, one day.

I understand you are going through a lot these days, but please don’t take your anger out on my rich Italian friends. I have always looked up to you, your extravagant taste, your disrespect for humanity, and the passion with which you humiliate your own people every day. I hope I can be like you one day. You are not only a mentor and a soul-mate, you are the man who keeps me warm during the long, cold Italian winter nights.

It is ok if you want to break up with me. You can keep all the gifts I gave you, yes even the 5 billion euros.

Your devoted friend, always,

Silvio.

It doesn’t seem like Muammar has taken it well. He has sent this video as a reply.

PS: This post is meant to be a satirical expose of the hypocrisy of western politicians vis-a-vis Qaddafi. My respect goes to all the brave Libyan citizens who are fighting a ruthless dictator. You are not forgotten.