March 31, 2011 Thursday
Yesterday, I was able to talk to Thel, Kiko's wife. She was following up some papers in Kohms that's why she was able to contact me. She was surprised to learn that I was leaving. They had no idea that I came to that decision already. Knowing how close Kiko and I were, she thought of arranging a meeting for us but realized that it was no longer possible because I would be leaving early on the next day. I tried to sound unaffected, I just didn't know if I was successful.
This morning, we were asked to board the van at 8:30 AM because departure time would be at 9:00 AM. I was disappointed that we were not able to have mass. Fr. Allan arrived when we were boarding the vans already so there was no time for it. He went over to each of the van to give his blessings. He was surprised to find out that I had no companion. "Ang tapang ha!" (You're so brave, huh!), he remarked. He extended his hand to me and said, "Take care." Then he asked Bong, the comic relief in our group to take care of Ate Naty (one of the two women seated in front) and help her with her luggage because she was alone. (Teddy also asked Bong during the previous night to take care of me). Fr. Allan and I used to be close so I was wondering why he didn't ask Bong to help me. Later, I learned that Ate Naty was very ill. She had leukemia and she was going home to Zamboanga alone. Again, I was slapped on my face by my pettiness.
We left the embassy grounds at exactly 9:00 AM. I called up Dr. Shabous and Dr. Naj when we started moving. Both of them wished me a safe journey and told me to keep in touch. Edna called offering me shelter in Mesolata in case I was troubled by being alone in Tripoli. I told her that the offer came too late because I'm already on my way to the border. Sadly, she bade me goodbye. I told her that it would just be a vacation and I would go back to Libya as soon as I can.
We traversed the road going to Tunisia and passed by Zawia. It was like a ghost town with most buildings riddled with bullets. Most of the gas stations we passed by were either close or were overfowing with queues of cars waiting for their turn to fill up their tanks with precious gasoline.At the head of our convoy was a car that carried an official of the embassy and a Libyan interpreter who also acted as our guide; four vans followed. The convoy moved slowly because of the checkpoints but no untoward incident took place. We were instructed not to declare our cellphones and to tell the patrol guards that we left our mobile phones in the embassy. Every time we passed by a checkpoint, we kept quiet, not knowing what to say or do. We also observed that the checkpoints have different loyalties. At one checkpoint, the regime's green flag was displayed prominently, however on the next checkpoint, the rebels' flag took the attention of motorists.
It is also worth mentioning that the Philippine convoy was given easier passage than those that had black African passengers. Most of us gave a sigh of relief every time we eased out from one checkpoint. Finally, after more than four hours , we reached the border. An official from the DFA met us and got our passports. We waited for sometime while our passports were being stamped. A staff from the UN's Organization for International Migrants was also at hand to document our arrival. Snacks were also offered by OWWA staff.
After almost an hour of waiting, we were asked to mobilize, leaving our passports with the OWWA people. The DFA official said that a bus provided by OWWA was waiting for us at the Tunisian border. We were asked to walk through the one kilometer neutral zone between the Libyan and Tunisian borders. It was during this walk that I remembered Bok and as expected, underneath my sunglasses, tears fell. He was always with me in my "walking time" in Tripoli and he always carried my "heavy load" both material and emotional. I remembered him telling me to be brave because from then on, I have to continue the journey on my own. He said it during the early part of the uprising, when he went to his family in Zletin and he could no longer return to Tripoli. It was so prophetic.
REACTION/S:
Thursday, September 29, 2011
Monday, September 19, 2011
Ch. 2 - Flight Out of Libya (Post # 18)
March 30, 2011 Wednesday
It was past 10:00 AM when I woke up. Dr. Naj was not in the house anymore. I learned that he went to the farm early (hates tearful goodbyes, huh!). Everything seemed normal until about 1:30 when the family driver came and he wanted to bring me to the embassy right away. He was instructed to fetch me at 3:00PM so his early arrival irked me. He was hurrying me to go so I told Hashem (the elder boy) that I would just take a taxi. Eventually, we made a compromise that I would leave at 2:30 PM. Later when we were on the way to the embassy, I learned that he would use the van to meet a relative (which he didn't tell Dr. Naj).
There were many people at the OWWA office, repatriates like me. I learned that I wasn't included in the batch last Saturday because they prioritized those who have children. Teddy and Pines came to give the money I have to bring home for their relatives in the Philippines. They also brought some chocolate for me. After some time chatting, they had to say goodbye.All of us were misty-eyed when we were hugging each other.
The repatriates in my batch were mostly nurses from Mizda who were evacuated from their area this morning. Their stories filled my night. According to Greg, husband of one of the nurses and supervisor at Carrier (an airconditioner manufacturing company ), the nurses worked at a public hospital at Mizda and were also staying at the hospital compound. The place was about 50 kilometers from Gharyan. They led a peaceful life in their village and they had no intention to leave. But on March 26, NATO bombed a secret armory five miles from the hospital, separated from the town by a hill. When NATO bombed it , it caused a tremendous explosion the blast of which covered a radius of five miles away reaching the hospital. They saw scud missiles falling just a few meters from their flats. After experiencing it for two nights, they called up the embassy requesting for a diplomatic mission to fetch them.
It was a traumatic experience for all of them. Greg said that a Korean couple lived in the 3rd floor of their building (Greg's family was at the ground floor). On the first night of the bombing, tenants of the building went out to watch the missiles as they were launched. Smoke was all over the place. On the second night the Korean couple did not go out anymore for fear that they might be hit. Unfortunately, a scud missile fell on their flat, right on their bedroom. The husband who was a doctor lost a leg and had fractured arm; his nurse wife was in comatose, fragments of the missile entered her brain.
There were two babies in the group, one of them was celebrating his first birthday. When Labat Mustapha learned about it, he gave us a treat (grilled chicken...so yummy!). To us Filipinos, a birthday is a milestone in a person's life and is ought to be celebrated. We believe that God gave us life as a sign of His love , and not even a war could make us forget that LIFE IS A CELEBRATION!...
REACTION/S:
It was past 10:00 AM when I woke up. Dr. Naj was not in the house anymore. I learned that he went to the farm early (hates tearful goodbyes, huh!). Everything seemed normal until about 1:30 when the family driver came and he wanted to bring me to the embassy right away. He was instructed to fetch me at 3:00PM so his early arrival irked me. He was hurrying me to go so I told Hashem (the elder boy) that I would just take a taxi. Eventually, we made a compromise that I would leave at 2:30 PM. Later when we were on the way to the embassy, I learned that he would use the van to meet a relative (which he didn't tell Dr. Naj).
There were many people at the OWWA office, repatriates like me. I learned that I wasn't included in the batch last Saturday because they prioritized those who have children. Teddy and Pines came to give the money I have to bring home for their relatives in the Philippines. They also brought some chocolate for me. After some time chatting, they had to say goodbye.All of us were misty-eyed when we were hugging each other.
The repatriates in my batch were mostly nurses from Mizda who were evacuated from their area this morning. Their stories filled my night. According to Greg, husband of one of the nurses and supervisor at Carrier (an airconditioner manufacturing company ), the nurses worked at a public hospital at Mizda and were also staying at the hospital compound. The place was about 50 kilometers from Gharyan. They led a peaceful life in their village and they had no intention to leave. But on March 26, NATO bombed a secret armory five miles from the hospital, separated from the town by a hill. When NATO bombed it , it caused a tremendous explosion the blast of which covered a radius of five miles away reaching the hospital. They saw scud missiles falling just a few meters from their flats. After experiencing it for two nights, they called up the embassy requesting for a diplomatic mission to fetch them.
It was a traumatic experience for all of them. Greg said that a Korean couple lived in the 3rd floor of their building (Greg's family was at the ground floor). On the first night of the bombing, tenants of the building went out to watch the missiles as they were launched. Smoke was all over the place. On the second night the Korean couple did not go out anymore for fear that they might be hit. Unfortunately, a scud missile fell on their flat, right on their bedroom. The husband who was a doctor lost a leg and had fractured arm; his nurse wife was in comatose, fragments of the missile entered her brain.
There were two babies in the group, one of them was celebrating his first birthday. When Labat Mustapha learned about it, he gave us a treat (grilled chicken...so yummy!). To us Filipinos, a birthday is a milestone in a person's life and is ought to be celebrated. We believe that God gave us life as a sign of His love , and not even a war could make us forget that LIFE IS A CELEBRATION!...
REACTION/S:
Sunday, September 18, 2011
Ch. 2 - The Flight Out of Libya (Post # 17)
March 28-29, 2011 Monday-Tuesday
Yesterday afternoon, I called up the embassy and inquired about my flight. The staff I talked to said that one batch left Saturday morning and she didn't know the schedule of the next one. I got irritated by the information because I knew that I was the fourth in the list. I called up Concon (Labat Mustapha is her uncle) and told her that I wasn't able to leave yet. Apparently, Con called up the embassy because a few minutes later, I got a call informing me that my departure date is on Thursday, March 31.
This Monday, I made sure that the recipients of the letters I prepared, received them. The first letter was delivered personally to the person's residence while the second was left in my flat together with the gifts I had prepared for Kiko's family and Terese last March 25. I had a hurried visit to my flat to get another jacket and bag (to replace the ones I have in Dr. Naj's house) aside from the business of leaving Bok's letter.
On Tuesday, I received another call from the embassy. I was instructed to put my laptop in my check -in baggage because checkpoint guards do not search it anymore. He also said that the convoy would leave at exactly 9:00 AM so I should be there at about 7:00 AM. I decided to go to the embassy Wednesday evening, just to make sure that I won't be late.
In the evening, Karen gave me a set of silk pajama and YSL perfume while Princess gave me facial tissues and a box of wet wipes. I placed my all important USB (where I saved my journal, I deleted them in my laptop in case it gets confiscated) in the jacket I intended to wear. I tried carrying my luggage and walking with them to see if I'd be able to do the one kilometer walk with the load. Sleep seemed so distant so I prayed the rosary...I prayed for my safe journey, for the health and safety of Kiko's family and of all my friends and colleagues whom I am going to leave behind. I prayed for the survival of my family, knowing that I didn't have enough money to sustain months of not having an adequate income, just in case I wouldn't be able to go back to Libya at once. God... I lift these all up to you.
REACTION/S:
Yesterday afternoon, I called up the embassy and inquired about my flight. The staff I talked to said that one batch left Saturday morning and she didn't know the schedule of the next one. I got irritated by the information because I knew that I was the fourth in the list. I called up Concon (Labat Mustapha is her uncle) and told her that I wasn't able to leave yet. Apparently, Con called up the embassy because a few minutes later, I got a call informing me that my departure date is on Thursday, March 31.
This Monday, I made sure that the recipients of the letters I prepared, received them. The first letter was delivered personally to the person's residence while the second was left in my flat together with the gifts I had prepared for Kiko's family and Terese last March 25. I had a hurried visit to my flat to get another jacket and bag (to replace the ones I have in Dr. Naj's house) aside from the business of leaving Bok's letter.
On Tuesday, I received another call from the embassy. I was instructed to put my laptop in my check -in baggage because checkpoint guards do not search it anymore. He also said that the convoy would leave at exactly 9:00 AM so I should be there at about 7:00 AM. I decided to go to the embassy Wednesday evening, just to make sure that I won't be late.
In the evening, Karen gave me a set of silk pajama and YSL perfume while Princess gave me facial tissues and a box of wet wipes. I placed my all important USB (where I saved my journal, I deleted them in my laptop in case it gets confiscated) in the jacket I intended to wear. I tried carrying my luggage and walking with them to see if I'd be able to do the one kilometer walk with the load. Sleep seemed so distant so I prayed the rosary...I prayed for my safe journey, for the health and safety of Kiko's family and of all my friends and colleagues whom I am going to leave behind. I prayed for the survival of my family, knowing that I didn't have enough money to sustain months of not having an adequate income, just in case I wouldn't be able to go back to Libya at once. God... I lift these all up to you.
REACTION/S:
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Chapter 2 - The Flight Out of Libya (Post # 16)
March 26-27, 2011 Saturday/Sunday
Last night, I called up friends I could contact and informed them of my decision to go home to the Philippines. I was able to contact Teddy and he requested that I bring their money to their relatives in RP. Another colleague I was able to talk to was Lovie. He was surprised about my decision but said that he respected it. Mariz called to confirm because she heard the news from Teddy and Pines. Briefly, I told all of them about how I came up with the decision and assured them that I would be back as soon as I can. I also contacted Princess and told her that I had decided to leave. She rang me up later and said that her father wanted me to spend my remaining days with them and that they would be the one to bring me to the embassy on the date of my departure.
Accompanied by Ted and Pines, I decided to have my money exchanged from dinar to dollar. Banks are hoarding their dollars so we can only have the exchange through the black market. Dinar had gone to so much devaluation. Before the uprising, it was LYD 1.37 to a dollar, now it varies from 2.30-2.75 dinar. We heard that there were places which offered 3.00-3.50 dinar per dollar. We found one shop which changes 2.20 dinar for $1.00 and that's where I had my money changed. It was so demoralizing, receiving so little in exchanged of the sacrifice of living far from your loved ones.
I ate lunch at my flat and gave away all the wet food to Nouri's family downstairs. I left the canned goods in the kitchen just in case Bok would come to Tripoli. I felt a little sadness as I prepared the things I have to bring for my flight. As instructed by Labat Mustapha - only important documents and essential clothes have to be brought. Mariz called and requested me to bring her daughter's money. She volunteered to take me to the house of Dr. Naj. It was a teary farewell for both of us.
In between my bonding moments with my Libyan "family", I wrote my journal. I also prepared two farewell letters: one for someone whom I had hoped to be my friend, and the other was somebody whom I had already certified as a friend. In order to protect the privacy of the first person, I wouldn't mention the name anymore but there were certain points that I wanted to clarify in my first letter ...It is important for me to introduce to someone I had chosen as a friend the "person" that I am (my back story, the baggage I carry, the "wounds" I suffered) because in knowing so, my "friend" would be able to understand me better. It is not pity that I seek but understanding...Another point I wanted to stress was that friendship is something to be nurtured in order for it to grow. You find time for each other, it doesn't matter if it's once a week or once a month, but you have to establish a friendship rite, that because of your busy schedule you could "forget" each other for awhile but on one particular time at one particular day, you and your friend has that one special moment with each other. It's just like the taming of the fox in the Little Prince by Antoine de St. Exupery. This is important especially when the friendship is still young. Once the "taming rites" are over, you can already get in and out of each other's life at anytime because your friendship is already strong enough to stand the test of time...Sad to say, this person and I were not able to sustain our friendship rites.
My second letter was for Bok. I told him about the incident that made me decide to leave, that I did not want my decision to be based on the pressure which my children exerted over me nor the assertion he cast for me to stay. I said that if ever I would leave, it was because that was what my heart desired. I also stated in the letter that I waited for him for as long as I could but he never came nor called. I mentioned that Kohms, where he could reach me by phone was just one dinar away from Zletin but he never reached out. Zletin had become his 9-dots (in reference to a group dynamics exercise which I conducted for students), and he did not dare to get out from his mental box. I also told him that Zletin offered an artificial freedom, just like Tripoli although the latter was much bigger. I said that I was going home because I wanted to have the freedom to do the things I want to do - like speaking my mind out, communicating with people I love, and writing my thoughts and sharing them with people without the fear of being persecuted. I also told him that I would always cherish the friendship which I had shared with him because it is a tangible proof that true friendship can go beyond age, gender, status and political upheaval. In parting, I said that he would always be my Bok.
I write very long letters because I usually pour my sentiments on them. I don't know if the intended message had come across through the written form but the bottom line is that these two people are important enough to me for them to merit two long nights just for me to say goodbye.
REACTION/S:
Last night, I called up friends I could contact and informed them of my decision to go home to the Philippines. I was able to contact Teddy and he requested that I bring their money to their relatives in RP. Another colleague I was able to talk to was Lovie. He was surprised about my decision but said that he respected it. Mariz called to confirm because she heard the news from Teddy and Pines. Briefly, I told all of them about how I came up with the decision and assured them that I would be back as soon as I can. I also contacted Princess and told her that I had decided to leave. She rang me up later and said that her father wanted me to spend my remaining days with them and that they would be the one to bring me to the embassy on the date of my departure.
Accompanied by Ted and Pines, I decided to have my money exchanged from dinar to dollar. Banks are hoarding their dollars so we can only have the exchange through the black market. Dinar had gone to so much devaluation. Before the uprising, it was LYD 1.37 to a dollar, now it varies from 2.30-2.75 dinar. We heard that there were places which offered 3.00-3.50 dinar per dollar. We found one shop which changes 2.20 dinar for $1.00 and that's where I had my money changed. It was so demoralizing, receiving so little in exchanged of the sacrifice of living far from your loved ones.
I ate lunch at my flat and gave away all the wet food to Nouri's family downstairs. I left the canned goods in the kitchen just in case Bok would come to Tripoli. I felt a little sadness as I prepared the things I have to bring for my flight. As instructed by Labat Mustapha - only important documents and essential clothes have to be brought. Mariz called and requested me to bring her daughter's money. She volunteered to take me to the house of Dr. Naj. It was a teary farewell for both of us.
In between my bonding moments with my Libyan "family", I wrote my journal. I also prepared two farewell letters: one for someone whom I had hoped to be my friend, and the other was somebody whom I had already certified as a friend. In order to protect the privacy of the first person, I wouldn't mention the name anymore but there were certain points that I wanted to clarify in my first letter ...It is important for me to introduce to someone I had chosen as a friend the "person" that I am (my back story, the baggage I carry, the "wounds" I suffered) because in knowing so, my "friend" would be able to understand me better. It is not pity that I seek but understanding...Another point I wanted to stress was that friendship is something to be nurtured in order for it to grow. You find time for each other, it doesn't matter if it's once a week or once a month, but you have to establish a friendship rite, that because of your busy schedule you could "forget" each other for awhile but on one particular time at one particular day, you and your friend has that one special moment with each other. It's just like the taming of the fox in the Little Prince by Antoine de St. Exupery. This is important especially when the friendship is still young. Once the "taming rites" are over, you can already get in and out of each other's life at anytime because your friendship is already strong enough to stand the test of time...Sad to say, this person and I were not able to sustain our friendship rites.
My second letter was for Bok. I told him about the incident that made me decide to leave, that I did not want my decision to be based on the pressure which my children exerted over me nor the assertion he cast for me to stay. I said that if ever I would leave, it was because that was what my heart desired. I also stated in the letter that I waited for him for as long as I could but he never came nor called. I mentioned that Kohms, where he could reach me by phone was just one dinar away from Zletin but he never reached out. Zletin had become his 9-dots (in reference to a group dynamics exercise which I conducted for students), and he did not dare to get out from his mental box. I also told him that Zletin offered an artificial freedom, just like Tripoli although the latter was much bigger. I said that I was going home because I wanted to have the freedom to do the things I want to do - like speaking my mind out, communicating with people I love, and writing my thoughts and sharing them with people without the fear of being persecuted. I also told him that I would always cherish the friendship which I had shared with him because it is a tangible proof that true friendship can go beyond age, gender, status and political upheaval. In parting, I said that he would always be my Bok.
I write very long letters because I usually pour my sentiments on them. I don't know if the intended message had come across through the written form but the bottom line is that these two people are important enough to me for them to merit two long nights just for me to say goodbye.
REACTION/S:
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Chapter 2 - The Flight Out of Libya (Post # 15)
March 24-25, 2011 Thursday/Friday
The new dawn found me excited to start my day. I got up after my rosary, fixed my breakfast and ate at my normal pace, mentally noting down the things I had to do for the day. I tried to contact Kiko once more but failed just the same.
At half past nine, I was already in a taxi on the way to the embassy. I noticed the long queues of cars in gasoline stations we passed by. (Goodness gracious! Oil-rich Libya doesn't have gasoline. What a catastrophe!) I was quietly observing the traffic outside when the driver distracted me. "Chini?", he asked. "No, Filipini," I answered. He was making conversation in Arabic and I just picked up some words to understand him. I was patiently tolerating him at the beginning, just nodding my head or answering in monosyllabic words, but when he turned to face me and tapped my thigh, I shouted "Hey!". I removed my sunglasses and stared at him indignantly. Even when he resumed his driving and was already looking in front, I still stared at him through the rear view mirror. My eyes must have given him a scare because he did not speak again and became fidgety while driving. I would have wanted to go down but I was not familiar with the area so I waited until we reach a place I knew and alighted from the taxi. I walked the extra distance going to the embassy (about half a kilometer walk).
I was at the embassy at about 11:00 AM. There were only a few people there. According to an embassy staff, the last batch of repatriates left at 9:00 AM. Upon hearing this, I silently prayed that if my going home is in accordance to God's holy will, then He would pave the way. I sat at the lounge and observed the other people. They were begging the staff to open another group for repatriation. The junior staff they were talking to asked them to wait for the decision of the labor attache who was the one in charge of the arrangements. At 3:00 PM, we were instructed to go to his office. The Labor Attache, Nasser Mustapha, told us that the group who left this morning was supposed to be the last batch and that at least 50 people should complete one group. He asked us if we were really decided to go home because there were many Filipinos in the past who enlisted themselves for repatriation but when it was time to go, they did not show up anymore. He said that it's causing the Philippine government a lot of money since they had to rent transportation corresponding to the number of signatories, but at the time of departure only half of them would come.This happened when they rented a ship going to Greece which was supposed to carry 1500 passengers. After staying at the dock for four days, only 750 passengers went on board. I told Labat Mustapha that one reason why Pinoy profs were hesitant to go home was because they would not be able to return to Libya because of the travel ban. He said that DFA did not issue a travel ban for Libya but Differed Flight, meaning that once the situation is already better OFWs can already fly back to Libya.
After making an affirmation of our intention to go home to the Philippines, Labat Mustapha requested us to sign the Repatriation List. He told us to pack our important documents and carry only the most essential possessions. He said that we have to travel light because we're going to walk for about one kilometer from the Libyan border to the Tunisian border. We were also told to wait for the embassy's call for further instructions. I was the last signatory at 4:30 PM. I was number four in the list so I figured that tomorrow being Friday (offices are usually close on Fridays), the list would not be completed yet. I calculated the list's completion to be on Saturday. "Probably, I would be going on Sunday," I told myself.
I was expected in Zletin that Friday. Kiko and Thel were to celebrate their 5th wedding anniversary. It was also the birthday of Khyce and Therese. I didn't go there anymore because my checkpoint experience was still fresh in my mind, instead, I offered a mass for them. I also offered my morning rosary for their good health and well-being. I had no time to shop for gifts so I just look for items in my flat which I could give them. I wrote a short note to accompany each of the presents I prepared. I remember them telling me that I was their only guest so I felt a little sad that I wasn't able to visit them this weekend. Evidently, this rebellion had a way of putting distance among friends and loved ones, not just among Libyans, but among other races as well.
REACTION/S:
The new dawn found me excited to start my day. I got up after my rosary, fixed my breakfast and ate at my normal pace, mentally noting down the things I had to do for the day. I tried to contact Kiko once more but failed just the same.
At half past nine, I was already in a taxi on the way to the embassy. I noticed the long queues of cars in gasoline stations we passed by. (Goodness gracious! Oil-rich Libya doesn't have gasoline. What a catastrophe!) I was quietly observing the traffic outside when the driver distracted me. "Chini?", he asked. "No, Filipini," I answered. He was making conversation in Arabic and I just picked up some words to understand him. I was patiently tolerating him at the beginning, just nodding my head or answering in monosyllabic words, but when he turned to face me and tapped my thigh, I shouted "Hey!". I removed my sunglasses and stared at him indignantly. Even when he resumed his driving and was already looking in front, I still stared at him through the rear view mirror. My eyes must have given him a scare because he did not speak again and became fidgety while driving. I would have wanted to go down but I was not familiar with the area so I waited until we reach a place I knew and alighted from the taxi. I walked the extra distance going to the embassy (about half a kilometer walk).
I was at the embassy at about 11:00 AM. There were only a few people there. According to an embassy staff, the last batch of repatriates left at 9:00 AM. Upon hearing this, I silently prayed that if my going home is in accordance to God's holy will, then He would pave the way. I sat at the lounge and observed the other people. They were begging the staff to open another group for repatriation. The junior staff they were talking to asked them to wait for the decision of the labor attache who was the one in charge of the arrangements. At 3:00 PM, we were instructed to go to his office. The Labor Attache, Nasser Mustapha, told us that the group who left this morning was supposed to be the last batch and that at least 50 people should complete one group. He asked us if we were really decided to go home because there were many Filipinos in the past who enlisted themselves for repatriation but when it was time to go, they did not show up anymore. He said that it's causing the Philippine government a lot of money since they had to rent transportation corresponding to the number of signatories, but at the time of departure only half of them would come.This happened when they rented a ship going to Greece which was supposed to carry 1500 passengers. After staying at the dock for four days, only 750 passengers went on board. I told Labat Mustapha that one reason why Pinoy profs were hesitant to go home was because they would not be able to return to Libya because of the travel ban. He said that DFA did not issue a travel ban for Libya but Differed Flight, meaning that once the situation is already better OFWs can already fly back to Libya.
After making an affirmation of our intention to go home to the Philippines, Labat Mustapha requested us to sign the Repatriation List. He told us to pack our important documents and carry only the most essential possessions. He said that we have to travel light because we're going to walk for about one kilometer from the Libyan border to the Tunisian border. We were also told to wait for the embassy's call for further instructions. I was the last signatory at 4:30 PM. I was number four in the list so I figured that tomorrow being Friday (offices are usually close on Fridays), the list would not be completed yet. I calculated the list's completion to be on Saturday. "Probably, I would be going on Sunday," I told myself.
I was expected in Zletin that Friday. Kiko and Thel were to celebrate their 5th wedding anniversary. It was also the birthday of Khyce and Therese. I didn't go there anymore because my checkpoint experience was still fresh in my mind, instead, I offered a mass for them. I also offered my morning rosary for their good health and well-being. I had no time to shop for gifts so I just look for items in my flat which I could give them. I wrote a short note to accompany each of the presents I prepared. I remember them telling me that I was their only guest so I felt a little sad that I wasn't able to visit them this weekend. Evidently, this rebellion had a way of putting distance among friends and loved ones, not just among Libyans, but among other races as well.
REACTION/S:
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Chapter 2 - The Flight Out of Libya (Post # 14)
March 22, 2011 Tuesday
At 2:00 AM this morning, I woke up at the sound of missiles launched to destroy military installations in Libya. I opened the kitchen window and watched the missiles decorate the dark Libyan sky like fireworks. They're beautiful . . . yes, but very dangerous. Until today, I haven't heard from Kiko. Concon said that she could not contact Zletin anymore. It was almost one week already after my checkpoint experience. Every now and then, Concon, Teddy and Lovie checked on me by phone.
At 8:00 AM, I left my flat to go to the Philippine Embassy. As the taxi was speeding up at the shat tarik (road by the sea), I took a glimpse of men fishing at the Mediterranean like old times. So who said that missiles have a frightening effect on people? . . . Definitely, not the Libyans!
Fr. Allan was at the embassy celebrating mass for the repatriates when I arrived. There were about 6-7 vans being filled up with Pinoys who availed of the repatriation. I met a man who had been in Libya for 29 years and a woman who had been here for 17 years. They had been in Libya during the UN sanction in the past and they survived so they believe they would also survive this. They were at the embassy because of their friends who were leaving. Both of them were hopeful that Libya would survive another UN sanction. They seemed so optimistic that everything would turn out for the better. But on the other hand, I think of my children who were urging me to go home. Inside me, there was a hesitation whether I should stay or go home to my native land.
March 23, 2011 Wednesday
I went to church this morning to attend a mass-novena for the Mother of Perpetual Help. I fervently prayed for a sign whether I had to go back to the Philippines or not. I guess the absence of Kiko caused the indecision. He had such a strong personality that he could literally convince me to decide in favor of what he would like to happen. Back in my flat, while I was jotting down notes in the calendar I was using for my journal, my eyes were caught by the quotation on the page. It was from Pope Benedict XVI: " Be open to His voice resounding in the depths of your heart : even now His heart is speaking to your heart. "
I wanted to talk to Kiko but no matter how many times I dialled his number, the connection failed. I then thought of calling up the woman I met at the embassy. She works with Ericsson which, according to her provided mobile phone network for Al Madar (our SIM brand). I asked her why I couldn't connect to Zletin and she said it was blocked because it is near Misurata. She told me not to waste my load for unnecessary calls because Al Madar might stop load distribution to clients. I decided to store load cards so I went out. The street was almost deserted. I noticed that there were very few people on the road and ALL of them were men. I checked the time, it was half past six. (I remembered Kiko and Fr. Allan telling me to be home before 4:00 PM.) The sun was still up (sunset was usually at around 8:00 PM) and gunfire were usually heard late at night or at the wee hours of the morning. I told myself that there was nothing to be afraid of. The men in the sidewalk were staring at me, perhaps wondering what was this strange woman doing in the middle of the street wearing her poncho (Yes, even if the sun was bright, it was still cold.) while other women were already secured in the safety of their own home.
As I was looking at those men, I realized that I did not belong to this Libyan landscape. At this instance, the mass flashed in my mind; I thought about my prayer each time I receive communion: " Lord, thank you for this grace which I had just received. With this grace, help me to become a better person so I can become a better parent, a better friend, and a better teacher." . . . It's the same prayer I pray every time I receive the holy eucharist. At that moment, I realized what my priorities are: being a better parent, a better friend, and a better teacher. If these were my priorities, then what am I doing here? . . . A mother should be with her children, shouldn't she? Finally, I decided to go home . . . and the decision gave me a sense of freedom.
REACTIONS:
At 2:00 AM this morning, I woke up at the sound of missiles launched to destroy military installations in Libya. I opened the kitchen window and watched the missiles decorate the dark Libyan sky like fireworks. They're beautiful . . . yes, but very dangerous. Until today, I haven't heard from Kiko. Concon said that she could not contact Zletin anymore. It was almost one week already after my checkpoint experience. Every now and then, Concon, Teddy and Lovie checked on me by phone.
At 8:00 AM, I left my flat to go to the Philippine Embassy. As the taxi was speeding up at the shat tarik (road by the sea), I took a glimpse of men fishing at the Mediterranean like old times. So who said that missiles have a frightening effect on people? . . . Definitely, not the Libyans!
Fr. Allan was at the embassy celebrating mass for the repatriates when I arrived. There were about 6-7 vans being filled up with Pinoys who availed of the repatriation. I met a man who had been in Libya for 29 years and a woman who had been here for 17 years. They had been in Libya during the UN sanction in the past and they survived so they believe they would also survive this. They were at the embassy because of their friends who were leaving. Both of them were hopeful that Libya would survive another UN sanction. They seemed so optimistic that everything would turn out for the better. But on the other hand, I think of my children who were urging me to go home. Inside me, there was a hesitation whether I should stay or go home to my native land.
March 23, 2011 Wednesday
I went to church this morning to attend a mass-novena for the Mother of Perpetual Help. I fervently prayed for a sign whether I had to go back to the Philippines or not. I guess the absence of Kiko caused the indecision. He had such a strong personality that he could literally convince me to decide in favor of what he would like to happen. Back in my flat, while I was jotting down notes in the calendar I was using for my journal, my eyes were caught by the quotation on the page. It was from Pope Benedict XVI: " Be open to His voice resounding in the depths of your heart : even now His heart is speaking to your heart. "
I wanted to talk to Kiko but no matter how many times I dialled his number, the connection failed. I then thought of calling up the woman I met at the embassy. She works with Ericsson which, according to her provided mobile phone network for Al Madar (our SIM brand). I asked her why I couldn't connect to Zletin and she said it was blocked because it is near Misurata. She told me not to waste my load for unnecessary calls because Al Madar might stop load distribution to clients. I decided to store load cards so I went out. The street was almost deserted. I noticed that there were very few people on the road and ALL of them were men. I checked the time, it was half past six. (I remembered Kiko and Fr. Allan telling me to be home before 4:00 PM.) The sun was still up (sunset was usually at around 8:00 PM) and gunfire were usually heard late at night or at the wee hours of the morning. I told myself that there was nothing to be afraid of. The men in the sidewalk were staring at me, perhaps wondering what was this strange woman doing in the middle of the street wearing her poncho (Yes, even if the sun was bright, it was still cold.) while other women were already secured in the safety of their own home.
As I was looking at those men, I realized that I did not belong to this Libyan landscape. At this instance, the mass flashed in my mind; I thought about my prayer each time I receive communion: " Lord, thank you for this grace which I had just received. With this grace, help me to become a better person so I can become a better parent, a better friend, and a better teacher." . . . It's the same prayer I pray every time I receive the holy eucharist. At that moment, I realized what my priorities are: being a better parent, a better friend, and a better teacher. If these were my priorities, then what am I doing here? . . . A mother should be with her children, shouldn't she? Finally, I decided to go home . . . and the decision gave me a sense of freedom.
REACTIONS:
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)