Prayers at the Fair. Tripoli. Libya.
Disappearing Alley Ways. Old City. Tripoli
Shopping in the Medina, Tripoli, at dusk.
1. Abandoned half developed ‘jinxed’ mosque. 2.Unfinished Buildings. 3.Libya Oil. 4.Gas.
I was around 8years old when I last saw Nadia. The same age, we were playing in my garden on the plastic orange swings with blue rope. A brief flash of memory. We had more in common than my other English cousins, both our mothers, who were sisters, were English and both married to Libyans.
However our childhood was very different, mine spent in Hastings, hers in Tripoli. Her parents split shortly after the move and her father kept her in Libya, she was never able to see her mother. Now, living in Misrata, home to some of the heaviest fighting during the revolution, Nadia is happily married with three children, pictured above. She is thoroughly Libyan in her gestures and accent and laughs at my terrible Arabic. We met in February for the first time in almost 20years. I hope to visit again very soon, we have a lot of catching up to do.
In Tripoli on the on the 7th December men and women came out in silent protest against a law to control the right to protest.
At a time when a national dialogue is crucial as we draft our constitution, communication between the GNC and society should be developed not squashed. After 42years without a voice, non-violent, focussed protest should be encouraged. With current events from Egypt vibrating in the background, Libyans want to safeguard their revolution and their constitution, they will not be silenced.
The Free Libya sticker rests on the notice board in our kitchen, on top of the pile of hospital appointments for my muma.
My parents would love to join me in Libya. However the healthcare system is almost non-existent with most travelling to Tunisia or Jordan for surgery, if they can afford it, or left waiting till the reform of welfare and healthcare is underway. They feel they have a weight round their shoulders with my mother in and out of hospital, and my father a mechanic with a garage tied to his feet that swallows any wages in bills. For now they can only look at my pictures and hear my tales. This is why, for them, I have promised I will be more active online, Libyan snail mail permitting, so they can put their newly acquired computer skills to use. We’ll see how that goes.
Home for a week in blighty for the first time since my move to Libya and just as I’m having to leave I’m just starting to settle in.
I’ve missed the cold, the frost on the grass, the breath on the air, the grey murky sea, my family, my friends and marmite.
Being in Libya, I am considered old, feeling the constant pressure that I should be married by now. I almost avoid going to weddings as the end of the night usually results in me having to explain to an old women who likes the way I dance why I am not married and why my work is so important to me. Yes I want to get married, yes I want children, but not now, and not this way.
I’ve found myself in the homes of lovely women, being cared for and supplied endless tea and baklava, thinking that they want to show the foreign Libyan how things are done…only to discover that at the end of the evening they have decided I’ve passed the test and that I am fit to meet/marry their son/ grandson, and if, IF he likes me then we could be a good match for marriage. Lucky me. I’m not ungrateful, I just can’t get my head around this concept, the ultimate blind date, with a bit of peeking.
One side of me romanticises the idea of an arranged marriage, the unknown, the sacred, the innocence of it, the other side just wants to run for the door screaming.
Freedom Fields:
After over a year of no training due to security issues, the girls have their first training session. Once we finished training we windowed shopped at wedding dresses on the way home. Samyra said “If i had to choose between football and men, between heaven and hell, I choose football, football is heaven for us” …. but then continued that she would say yes if some asked her now but that she feels, being in her 30’s, that culturally her time is too late.
The things the children of Libya have seen are now part of the normality of their everyday existence. How will this affect the future generation of a nation? These children who see guns and blood as a fascination, on a fine line between tragedy, heroism and curiosity.
Whilst filming in the Medina I discovered a new character for my documentary. Her and her family are great, I’m super excited.
Dance Like A Butterfly.
Stills from short documentary I am currently working on. A character story I discovered whilst developing my feature documentary and hanging out lots at sports clubs doing research. These places are a hub particularly for disenfranchised youth, with no jobs and a lack of faith in the state and rule of law. After fighting in the revolution these places are vital in giving youth here something to focus on.
“As Libya takes a beating in its fight for a democratic future, these charismatic veteran boxers bring back a sport that was illegal under the Gaddafi regime.
Mahmuud, Najjy and Sabri, of different tribes and backgrounds, leave their differences at the door as they come together to train the youth of future Libya. As the personal and political overlap and the intimate and national collide, this story follows what happens after Round One of Libya’s revolution, through the eyes of ‘The Champs’.”
Last week the Libyan public protested and called for security and a strong state army and police force.
This week the response was very literal with a Police Eid parade of every type of policeman you can imagine. Scuba diving police, airforce police, fireman police, marching band police, police in balaklaa’s ( a worry), you name it they were there on display.
A good way of reassuring the public of their protection, and a signal to criminals that this is no longer a lawless state? Or a badly timed celebration in Gadafiesque style to show off their new helicopters? With so much sand in my eyes from the whirling of these hovering beasts and the confusion of last nights turn of events with Abushagor being sacked but still present as the Deputy PM, I am a little unsure as to what today was all about, but the people seemed happy, and thats something at least in this current political situation.
Swimming in the rain.
Away from the glare of the media and the analysis of conspiracy theorists, pockets of normality are fast returning to Libyan life. Weddings, picnics in the park, trips to the beach, shopping for new stationary for the return to school for thousands of children all provide a feeling of progress, stepping away from the last years language of war.
But Libya post revolution is far from a picnic in the park, far from it. Its case is different to that of its neighbours in Tunisia and Egypt, and the situation is far removed from the Iraq and Afghanistan basket that many internationals like to place it in, but Libya is rife with problems. Libyans are smart and won’t allow themselves to be victimised and placed into this hole. They are aware the west has something to gain from their involvement, we are all to aware of our Oil contracts, but Libya also has a lot to gain, oil aside, if she is smart at this moment in her crossroads.
I sit here in a rare moment away from the chaos writing as I look out to sea, across which Libya is building new relations on foreign shores. I sit here in my cousins make shift beach hut, complete with a fridge painted patriotically in the colours of the Libyan flag and contemplate Libya’s current situation and her long term future.
The political climate is uncertain, the security situation problematic and human rights violations are still common, from all sides.
However on a positive note, brigades and militia’s are beginning to disband, many civilians are handing in their arms (the lore of winning a car or a plasma TV a worrying incentive). Confusing talk of ideas of secularism in a prodominantly Muslim country, sharia law and the forthcoming draft of the constitution filter into most domestic conversations. In the same conversation you can hear issues alternating between the everyday and the political, for example the cost of Aimen the second cousin of Muhanneds wedding alongside talk of the decades long conflict between Bani Walid and Misrata.
But while Libya is in a constant dialogue, I can’t help but think that time is being lost. Whilst the current authorities are under pressure to deal with the instant problems that change on a daily basis in Libya ( shrine demolitions, ‘Al Queda’ attacks, protests and new uprisings) , alongside trying to plan a structure and stratergy for the long term of Libya, time is being lost as we deal with the bureaucracies that occur within the ideals of a ‘democracy’. At this current crossroads we must stay active and not passively fall into obsessing over the minor details. Libya is moving forward but we must think of the long term, not just what we as individuals have to gain from the now ( #GNC )
As the rain speckles the sand, and I sip tea with my grandma I wonder what the future holds for Libya.
