March 17-18, 2011 Thursday/Friday
I went to the College on Thursday. Some students were there to inquire about the schedule of classes. I was not in a social mood so I avoided talking to them. In the office of the English Department, my colleagues asked about my bruises and black eye, I narrated to them my checkpoint experience in Khoums. They were surprised to find out that I could still go outside Tripoli to visit friends under the prevailing situation. Dr. Shabous told me that we would have regular classes on Sunday, March 20. I saw Fatima, a Libyan colleague, at the office, exchanged hugs and kisses, and expressed how much we missed each other.She told me that I could stay with her family if I wanted to. She also mentioned that my students had been looking for me and were interested to know if I was safe. Some of them even offered to provide me shelter in the safety of their own homes. I met a Physics professor at the lobby. I knew him to be a Khadaffi loyalist and he engaged me in a conversation. He said that the rebellion was initiated by the US; that the uprising in Egypt and Tunisia were CIA-operated. According to him, "US was very much interested with the Libyan oil so it clipped our wings (referring to Egypt and Tunisia) to put pressure to our country."
Later in the afternoon, I looked for an electric stove. Before the unrest, a single burner electric stove cost 10 dinar and there were a lot of them just accumulating dust in kitchenware shops. Today I couldn't find one in the many shops at Souq Jomaa. One shop owner told me to go back on the next day. When I went back, a second-hand stove was offered to me, one which looked really old. How much did it cost? It was a whopping 80 dinar. Due to the crisis in gas, I had to buy it.
I attended the Friday mass and was very happy that more people were already attending the celebration. Fr. Allan called up in the evening asking if I knew an English lecturer named Noel. He said that someone informed him that he was missing for more than a week already. I told him that Noel was my batchmate and described him physically. He recalled that he had met the guy at the embassy while the latter was coordinating for the repatriation of some lecturers. I mentioned Concon's suggestion to request the owner of the school building where the car was found ( the car which was entrusted to Noel), to open the rooms because Noel could be there hurt by some bad elements. I also told Fr. Allan that I'd be going to the Turkish Airline to inquire if he bought a plane ticket there. I informed him about a lead that Noel called someone from the said airline office. Fr. Allan said that all actions should be coursed through the embassy. The embassy should first be informed about it then, its staff should be the one to coordinate with all concerned persons and offices. I told him about Noel's joke of taking a vacation in Cyprus. He said that if ever he did that, it would be irresponsible of him not to tell anyone about his whereabouts considering Libya's condition these days.
March 20, 2011 Sunday
Today was the first day of the United Nations' intervention. The "No Fly Zone Resolution" by the UN was now strictly enforced to protect civilian lives. This would prevent regime forces from bombing rebels and civilians using Libyan war planes. By this time, people in Libya were already used to the sound of gunfire, machine guns and armalites in the middle of the night but this time it was a lot louder. It lasted for 15-20 minutes and then, silence followed. I sat erect on my bed trying to figure out the meaning of it all. As I sat,enveloped with darkness, a realization dawned on me . . . silence found its meaning . . . I'm going to write again. Thus after a long long time, the Skylark began singing her songs again.
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Chapter 1 - Libya's Awakening . . . (Post # 12)
March 14-16, 2011 Monday-Wednesday
At 7:30 AM I was already at the mahatta (station). Vehicles going to places outside Tripoli are usually mini buses or 12-14 seater vans. The van going to Khoums was about to go, just waiting for one more passenger when I arrived. The passengers seemed relieved when they found out that I would be joining them, perhaps they've waited for so long. When I was already seated, I found out that I was the only woman in the van. I was seated at the back and the exit doors were on the side. I felt a little nervous but as usual, whenever I got scared, I said a little prayer to God that in His goodness and mercy, He would protect me from all harm and danger.
A guy seated by the window in front of me looked at me and smiled. He asked, "Chini? No? Korea?" I said, "Filipini". He smiled again, looked at my thumb and gave me an inquiring look. "There was a cyst on my thumb and it was operated on," I explained. "Don't worry about it," he said pointing at my thumb. I just smiled. Silently I was saying, "I'm not worried about my thumb, I'm worried about the checkpoints." Mentally, I noted that the guy who was in his middle 20s, had a smile that reached his eyes and made it look sincere.
At the first checkpoint, the driver got my passport and showed it to the patrol guard. I heard the driver say "Korea". I told Mr. Nice Guy to tell the driver that I am Filipini. Mr. Nice Guy informed both the driver and the guard that I am Filipini. The soldier inquired about my job and my business in Khoums. I told the guy (who became my interpreter from then on) that I'm a doctor at Al Fateh University and I would just visit friends in Khoums. The soldier returned my passport to the driver and allowed us to go. Mr. Nice guy told me that he was an Engineering student at Al Fateh. He also said that I should not worry about the checkpoint guards because they were just doing their work. "Besides," he said, "I'm going to protect you." Silently I said, "Oh! That was nice." Aloud I said, "Salaam alai cum!" I gave a silent prayer of thank to God. Mr. Nice Guy got down before entering the town and told me to be careful as the van started to move.
I found the bank which also served as the Western Union office a block from the town plaza. There was a crowd of men outside. The women had their line inside so I was told to join them using the back door for entrance. It was 10:30 AM. Thel and Therese were already inside with other Filipino colleagues. Joanne, a nursing instructor and Pines, an English lecturer, both from Tripoli were at the teller's window already. They had been in Khoums since Sunday. Joanne was able to finish her transaction but Pines was unfortunate, the internet went offline when it was already her turn. The WU staff told those who were inside to wait until 2:00PM. Everyone got peeved because some of them had been there since yesterday, others had been in line since this morning. At 4:00PM, the internet was still offline so we were told to come back bucra (tomorrow).
When we went out, we saw Kiko with some men who turned out to be Filipinos working at the Libyan Naval Base in Khoums. These Pinoys, headed by an engineer, were in charge of maintaining the facilities of the naval yard. They requested two Pinay lecturers to help them transfer their money to the Philippines. Teddy, Pines' husband, who was another English lecturer, was also with them. We were all invited to the birthday party of a Filipino nursing instructor living in the area. It was held at the flat of the Davao ladies so Kiko's family decided to spend the night in Khoums. Teddy, Pines, and Joanne who were all that was left of the Tripoli group spent their second night there,too.
On Tuesday, Thel and I went to the bank at 7:00AM. Teddy, Pines and Joanne were just a few minutes ahead of us. When Pines and Joanne entered the bank, we were just a few steps behind them but when the guard closed the door, he did not allow anyone to enter again. Pines and Joanne told the guard that we were their companions but they were just ignored. As Thel and I were waiting outside, Teddy offered us some coffee. He was such a joker so he lightened up the situation. When he learned that I went to Khoums thru the usual ride at the mahatta, he raised both his hands and bowed his head saying, "Saludo kami sa 'yo, sister. Di namin kaya ang tapang mo." ( "I salute you, sister. We couldn't match your courage." ) I learned later that they paid 50 dinar per head. I only paid 3 dinar which was the usual rate. At about 8:30 - 9:00 AM, two taxis from Tripoli came loaded with nursing lecturers from Al Fateh Medical University. Just like us, they had to queue the line outside. The effort proved to be futile. At 10:30, Pines and Joanne went out. There was no internet connection. The manager said, "Maybe tomorrow."
I spent the night in Zletin while Teddy and Pines had their third night in Khoums. Joanne went back to Tripoli with her colleagues. On the next day, Wednesday, nothing happened. I learned from Pines that the bank's internet connection came from Benghazi while Benghazi's connection came from USA. The latter blocked the connection to Khoums. Having enough of the situation, I decided to go back to Tripoli. Teddy and Pines joined me in the trip back to the capital.
We took a ride at the mahatta. The driver was about 30-35 years old and was the nervous type. At the first checkpoint, the soldiers who accosted our driver seemed relatively young and boastful of their newly acquired power as they brandished their weapons. They asked Teddy for his papers and told him to go down for body search. The driver also got down and told Pines and me to surrender our bags for searching. Pines and Ted declared their phones but I didn't, so when one of the soldiers was already searching my bag, I decided to do something. I hurriedly went out of the van and in the process, my right foot got entangled with the seat belt in front of me and I went . . . blag! I got down head first, followed by my body, still looking at the soldier who was already holding my cosmetic kit but got distracted. (My cellphone was under the kit. Gosh!) The commotion called the attention of the senior officer assigned on that post. He helped me to stand up and apologized. He called the soldier and asked him to give my bag and to apologize, too. Then, he called him aside and continued to scold him. Another soldier was supposed to confiscate the mobile phones of Pines and Teddy but Pines insisted to get them back and threatened to tell the muder (referring to the senior officer) about it. The second soldier returned the phones.
Back in the van, we expressed anger to the driver who was supposed to protect us. Teddy complained to the Libyan passengers that women should not be treated that way. Our co-passengers apologized to us. I found Vicks Vaporub in my bag so Pines rubbed it on the affected areas on my face and arms. Concon called Pines and was informed about what happened. She instructed me not to sleep within the next hour to avoid blood clot. She called several times, worried like an old grandma( proof of unquestionable sisterly affection). Nancy also called to confirm what happened. I told her to inform Kiko about it. When I got down from the van, Teddy helped me out and gave me a brotherly hug. I was touched.
Later in my flat, I took a long look at my image in the mirror : left black eye, swollen forehead, bruised cheek. My left shoulder, knee and leg were throbbing with pain. Then I smiled . . . and the smile grew into laughter. I wasn't afraid that my phone would be confiscated; I put my life on line because I didn't want to be caught telling a lie (for not declaring my cellphone). I imagined what a scene I had created for myself and I had another round of laughter. That was so silly!
REACTION/S:
At 7:30 AM I was already at the mahatta (station). Vehicles going to places outside Tripoli are usually mini buses or 12-14 seater vans. The van going to Khoums was about to go, just waiting for one more passenger when I arrived. The passengers seemed relieved when they found out that I would be joining them, perhaps they've waited for so long. When I was already seated, I found out that I was the only woman in the van. I was seated at the back and the exit doors were on the side. I felt a little nervous but as usual, whenever I got scared, I said a little prayer to God that in His goodness and mercy, He would protect me from all harm and danger.
A guy seated by the window in front of me looked at me and smiled. He asked, "Chini? No? Korea?" I said, "Filipini". He smiled again, looked at my thumb and gave me an inquiring look. "There was a cyst on my thumb and it was operated on," I explained. "Don't worry about it," he said pointing at my thumb. I just smiled. Silently I was saying, "I'm not worried about my thumb, I'm worried about the checkpoints." Mentally, I noted that the guy who was in his middle 20s, had a smile that reached his eyes and made it look sincere.
At the first checkpoint, the driver got my passport and showed it to the patrol guard. I heard the driver say "Korea". I told Mr. Nice Guy to tell the driver that I am Filipini. Mr. Nice Guy informed both the driver and the guard that I am Filipini. The soldier inquired about my job and my business in Khoums. I told the guy (who became my interpreter from then on) that I'm a doctor at Al Fateh University and I would just visit friends in Khoums. The soldier returned my passport to the driver and allowed us to go. Mr. Nice guy told me that he was an Engineering student at Al Fateh. He also said that I should not worry about the checkpoint guards because they were just doing their work. "Besides," he said, "I'm going to protect you." Silently I said, "Oh! That was nice." Aloud I said, "Salaam alai cum!" I gave a silent prayer of thank to God. Mr. Nice Guy got down before entering the town and told me to be careful as the van started to move.
I found the bank which also served as the Western Union office a block from the town plaza. There was a crowd of men outside. The women had their line inside so I was told to join them using the back door for entrance. It was 10:30 AM. Thel and Therese were already inside with other Filipino colleagues. Joanne, a nursing instructor and Pines, an English lecturer, both from Tripoli were at the teller's window already. They had been in Khoums since Sunday. Joanne was able to finish her transaction but Pines was unfortunate, the internet went offline when it was already her turn. The WU staff told those who were inside to wait until 2:00PM. Everyone got peeved because some of them had been there since yesterday, others had been in line since this morning. At 4:00PM, the internet was still offline so we were told to come back bucra (tomorrow).
When we went out, we saw Kiko with some men who turned out to be Filipinos working at the Libyan Naval Base in Khoums. These Pinoys, headed by an engineer, were in charge of maintaining the facilities of the naval yard. They requested two Pinay lecturers to help them transfer their money to the Philippines. Teddy, Pines' husband, who was another English lecturer, was also with them. We were all invited to the birthday party of a Filipino nursing instructor living in the area. It was held at the flat of the Davao ladies so Kiko's family decided to spend the night in Khoums. Teddy, Pines, and Joanne who were all that was left of the Tripoli group spent their second night there,too.
On Tuesday, Thel and I went to the bank at 7:00AM. Teddy, Pines and Joanne were just a few minutes ahead of us. When Pines and Joanne entered the bank, we were just a few steps behind them but when the guard closed the door, he did not allow anyone to enter again. Pines and Joanne told the guard that we were their companions but they were just ignored. As Thel and I were waiting outside, Teddy offered us some coffee. He was such a joker so he lightened up the situation. When he learned that I went to Khoums thru the usual ride at the mahatta, he raised both his hands and bowed his head saying, "Saludo kami sa 'yo, sister. Di namin kaya ang tapang mo." ( "I salute you, sister. We couldn't match your courage." ) I learned later that they paid 50 dinar per head. I only paid 3 dinar which was the usual rate. At about 8:30 - 9:00 AM, two taxis from Tripoli came loaded with nursing lecturers from Al Fateh Medical University. Just like us, they had to queue the line outside. The effort proved to be futile. At 10:30, Pines and Joanne went out. There was no internet connection. The manager said, "Maybe tomorrow."
I spent the night in Zletin while Teddy and Pines had their third night in Khoums. Joanne went back to Tripoli with her colleagues. On the next day, Wednesday, nothing happened. I learned from Pines that the bank's internet connection came from Benghazi while Benghazi's connection came from USA. The latter blocked the connection to Khoums. Having enough of the situation, I decided to go back to Tripoli. Teddy and Pines joined me in the trip back to the capital.
We took a ride at the mahatta. The driver was about 30-35 years old and was the nervous type. At the first checkpoint, the soldiers who accosted our driver seemed relatively young and boastful of their newly acquired power as they brandished their weapons. They asked Teddy for his papers and told him to go down for body search. The driver also got down and told Pines and me to surrender our bags for searching. Pines and Ted declared their phones but I didn't, so when one of the soldiers was already searching my bag, I decided to do something. I hurriedly went out of the van and in the process, my right foot got entangled with the seat belt in front of me and I went . . . blag! I got down head first, followed by my body, still looking at the soldier who was already holding my cosmetic kit but got distracted. (My cellphone was under the kit. Gosh!) The commotion called the attention of the senior officer assigned on that post. He helped me to stand up and apologized. He called the soldier and asked him to give my bag and to apologize, too. Then, he called him aside and continued to scold him. Another soldier was supposed to confiscate the mobile phones of Pines and Teddy but Pines insisted to get them back and threatened to tell the muder (referring to the senior officer) about it. The second soldier returned the phones.
Back in the van, we expressed anger to the driver who was supposed to protect us. Teddy complained to the Libyan passengers that women should not be treated that way. Our co-passengers apologized to us. I found Vicks Vaporub in my bag so Pines rubbed it on the affected areas on my face and arms. Concon called Pines and was informed about what happened. She instructed me not to sleep within the next hour to avoid blood clot. She called several times, worried like an old grandma( proof of unquestionable sisterly affection). Nancy also called to confirm what happened. I told her to inform Kiko about it. When I got down from the van, Teddy helped me out and gave me a brotherly hug. I was touched.
Later in my flat, I took a long look at my image in the mirror : left black eye, swollen forehead, bruised cheek. My left shoulder, knee and leg were throbbing with pain. Then I smiled . . . and the smile grew into laughter. I wasn't afraid that my phone would be confiscated; I put my life on line because I didn't want to be caught telling a lie (for not declaring my cellphone). I imagined what a scene I had created for myself and I had another round of laughter. That was so silly!
REACTION/S:
Friday, August 19, 2011
Chapter 1 - Libya's Awakening . . . (Post # 11)
March 12-13, 2011 Saturday/Sunday
Last night as I was eating dinner, Edna called. She was looking for Noel. She said she called up Noel for several times but his phone was not connecting. She was alarmed because Noel's phone was forever active. I told her that he called me up three days ago joking about taking a vacation in Cyprus but I did not take it seriously. I told her to just let him be because he would eventually re-surface when there's a need for him to do so.
This morning, March 12, Concon rang me up asking about Noel. She said Florence, a nursing lecturer in Gharyan, told her that Noel was missing. Concon was worried that something bad happened to him, like he could have been kidnapped by rebels because he joined pro-government rallies at Saha Qadra. We promised to inform each other in case some news about Noel came up. Lovie called me up, too. He was also worried about Noel. He said Madam's brothers were looking for her car which was left under Noel's care. I suggested to inquire from the embassy if his name was listed in the manifesto of repatriates. Lovie promised to ring me up again.
I went to the doctor to consult him about the cyst on my thumb. The doctor was relatively young, in early 30s, UK educated, and spoke fluent English. I encountered him when I got sick last January. A student who was close to me suggested the private hospital in which he was a resident doctor. Dr. Nasser was surprised to see me. He thought I had already left the country. I said I was still around because I believed the rebellion wouldn't last long. I shared with him about what my students said during my last session with them on February 20, that they could not understand why people were protesting when the government was giving them all their needs. He said that he, too could not understand what happened to his country.
Dr. Nasser examined my thumb and explained something about the cyst. He said that it could be removed through a minor operation. I asked him when the operation would be and was surprised when he answered "Now." Goodness gracious! I wasn't prepared for it. I explained about my low tolerance on pain, my being a bleeder, my being alone in my flat, etc. (actually I was just freaking out.) He explained to me the procedure, in simple terms, he would just prick the cyst three times and drain the blood or pus that would come out from it. And I said, "Ah, okay. So it's not a big deal, eh. That wasn't my idea of an operation." (At the back of my mind, I was laughing at myself for making a mountain out of a mole). "Don't worry", Dr. Nasser said, "I'd be gentle. It would just be like an ant's bite".
Kiko called while the nurse was preparing the paraphernalia to be used while Dr. Nasser was attending to another patient. He was surprised to learn that I was in the hospital and would be "operated on" that very moment. I made it sound like it was a big deal (hehehe). He was frantic, "Why didn't you tell me? I should have gone back to Tripoli." "Hello, I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself," I quipped. (How can I sound so brave when I was like a frightened little girl just a few minutes before...boohoo!) After a little while I informed him about the procedure . He sounded relieved when I also told him that I'd go to Dr. Naj's home so I won't need to do any household chore. He said he would check on me again on the next day.
Princess and the other kids were anxious about my heavily bandaged thumb. The whole family pampered me up to the hilt and their warmth gave me such a pleasant feeling. I felt so safe at Dr. Naj's house. Noel's wife called me up looking for her husband. She said that she had not heard from him for four days already and it was so unlike him. She told me that she got my number from Lovie. I told her about Noel's joke on taking a vacation in Cyprus which I didn't take seriously at that time. I promised her to give any information about her husband that would come my way.
Lovie rang me up and said that he called up a high profile Libyan friend and told him that Noel was missing. This friend, a general, informed him that Noel called him up three days ago. He said that our missing colleague was at a Turkish Airline ticketing office buying a ticket. He wasn't able to recall where Noel's destination was. This gave us some kind of assurance that he was in good hands. Lovie also said that Mrs. Alonto's brothers found the car inside the compound of the school building which Madam had rented. There was no trace of Noel. Lovie said that he would call up the embassy on the next day. I told him that I would call up the church to ask for assistance. Lovie's worried voice made me realize what a good friend he was. He and Noel had some misunderstanding in the past and up to the time before Noel was missing, their broken fence of friendship had not been mended yet. It was to the credit of Lovie's character that he still showed concern with Noel's welfare despite of everything that had transpired. I promised him that I would call Fr. Allan and also go to the Turkish Airline to verify if Noel indeed went out of the country.
Kiko called and told me that he left some money in the flat which he requested me to bring to Khoums. He said that his family was in Khoums because there was a Western Union still operating in the area. He said that I should leave Tripoli at 6:00 AM so I would be in Khoums by 8:00 o'clock. I didn't like to go because I made a promise to follow up the lead on Noel's whereabouts but Bok insisted. He said that Noel's already old and whatever he did was his choice and decision, what was more important was I would have a chance to send money to my family. Put it that way, I had no choice but to accede.
I went back to my flat to get Kiko's money and prepare to go to Khoums. I took a taxi from Dr. Naj's place and had the good fortune of finding a driver who speaks English. He was about 60-65 years old. He said that there's no problem in Tripoli, just in Benghazi and Misurata. He loved Muammar Khadaffi for he was a good leader. He said that no Libyan could kill his own people. He also explained that protesters were not pure Libyans. They were offsprings of interracial marriages among people whose stay in Libya had been legitimized by the Great Leader. "He was too soft on people and now, they're the ones biting him." The driver's portrait of Khadaffi sent an ambiguous picture of Libya's strongman.
REACTION/S:
Last night as I was eating dinner, Edna called. She was looking for Noel. She said she called up Noel for several times but his phone was not connecting. She was alarmed because Noel's phone was forever active. I told her that he called me up three days ago joking about taking a vacation in Cyprus but I did not take it seriously. I told her to just let him be because he would eventually re-surface when there's a need for him to do so.
This morning, March 12, Concon rang me up asking about Noel. She said Florence, a nursing lecturer in Gharyan, told her that Noel was missing. Concon was worried that something bad happened to him, like he could have been kidnapped by rebels because he joined pro-government rallies at Saha Qadra. We promised to inform each other in case some news about Noel came up. Lovie called me up, too. He was also worried about Noel. He said Madam's brothers were looking for her car which was left under Noel's care. I suggested to inquire from the embassy if his name was listed in the manifesto of repatriates. Lovie promised to ring me up again.
I went to the doctor to consult him about the cyst on my thumb. The doctor was relatively young, in early 30s, UK educated, and spoke fluent English. I encountered him when I got sick last January. A student who was close to me suggested the private hospital in which he was a resident doctor. Dr. Nasser was surprised to see me. He thought I had already left the country. I said I was still around because I believed the rebellion wouldn't last long. I shared with him about what my students said during my last session with them on February 20, that they could not understand why people were protesting when the government was giving them all their needs. He said that he, too could not understand what happened to his country.
Dr. Nasser examined my thumb and explained something about the cyst. He said that it could be removed through a minor operation. I asked him when the operation would be and was surprised when he answered "Now." Goodness gracious! I wasn't prepared for it. I explained about my low tolerance on pain, my being a bleeder, my being alone in my flat, etc. (actually I was just freaking out.) He explained to me the procedure, in simple terms, he would just prick the cyst three times and drain the blood or pus that would come out from it. And I said, "Ah, okay. So it's not a big deal, eh. That wasn't my idea of an operation." (At the back of my mind, I was laughing at myself for making a mountain out of a mole). "Don't worry", Dr. Nasser said, "I'd be gentle. It would just be like an ant's bite".
Kiko called while the nurse was preparing the paraphernalia to be used while Dr. Nasser was attending to another patient. He was surprised to learn that I was in the hospital and would be "operated on" that very moment. I made it sound like it was a big deal (hehehe). He was frantic, "Why didn't you tell me? I should have gone back to Tripoli." "Hello, I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself," I quipped. (How can I sound so brave when I was like a frightened little girl just a few minutes before...boohoo!) After a little while I informed him about the procedure . He sounded relieved when I also told him that I'd go to Dr. Naj's home so I won't need to do any household chore. He said he would check on me again on the next day.
Princess and the other kids were anxious about my heavily bandaged thumb. The whole family pampered me up to the hilt and their warmth gave me such a pleasant feeling. I felt so safe at Dr. Naj's house. Noel's wife called me up looking for her husband. She said that she had not heard from him for four days already and it was so unlike him. She told me that she got my number from Lovie. I told her about Noel's joke on taking a vacation in Cyprus which I didn't take seriously at that time. I promised her to give any information about her husband that would come my way.
Lovie rang me up and said that he called up a high profile Libyan friend and told him that Noel was missing. This friend, a general, informed him that Noel called him up three days ago. He said that our missing colleague was at a Turkish Airline ticketing office buying a ticket. He wasn't able to recall where Noel's destination was. This gave us some kind of assurance that he was in good hands. Lovie also said that Mrs. Alonto's brothers found the car inside the compound of the school building which Madam had rented. There was no trace of Noel. Lovie said that he would call up the embassy on the next day. I told him that I would call up the church to ask for assistance. Lovie's worried voice made me realize what a good friend he was. He and Noel had some misunderstanding in the past and up to the time before Noel was missing, their broken fence of friendship had not been mended yet. It was to the credit of Lovie's character that he still showed concern with Noel's welfare despite of everything that had transpired. I promised him that I would call Fr. Allan and also go to the Turkish Airline to verify if Noel indeed went out of the country.
Kiko called and told me that he left some money in the flat which he requested me to bring to Khoums. He said that his family was in Khoums because there was a Western Union still operating in the area. He said that I should leave Tripoli at 6:00 AM so I would be in Khoums by 8:00 o'clock. I didn't like to go because I made a promise to follow up the lead on Noel's whereabouts but Bok insisted. He said that Noel's already old and whatever he did was his choice and decision, what was more important was I would have a chance to send money to my family. Put it that way, I had no choice but to accede.
I went back to my flat to get Kiko's money and prepare to go to Khoums. I took a taxi from Dr. Naj's place and had the good fortune of finding a driver who speaks English. He was about 60-65 years old. He said that there's no problem in Tripoli, just in Benghazi and Misurata. He loved Muammar Khadaffi for he was a good leader. He said that no Libyan could kill his own people. He also explained that protesters were not pure Libyans. They were offsprings of interracial marriages among people whose stay in Libya had been legitimized by the Great Leader. "He was too soft on people and now, they're the ones biting him." The driver's portrait of Khadaffi sent an ambiguous picture of Libya's strongman.
REACTION/S:
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Chapter 1 - Libya's Awakening . . . (Post # 10)
March 7 - 11, 2011, Monday - Friday
From Zletin, Kiko and I went back to Tripoli on Monday. Before we left the town, we looked for an open money transfer station but all were already close. Kiko was very anxious because of his daughters' predicament in the Philippines.
When we arrived in Tripoli, we learned that we didn't have LPG anymore. Our landlord lent us a kerosene-fuelled single burner so we could cook. He told us that LPGs were manufactured in Benghazi and Misurata, two cities which were under heavy fighting. We also learned that the internet and text messaging have been blocked . Communication is only through phone calls so the regime could monitor conversations.
On Tuesday, Kiko went to the bank to get his remaining money while I went to the university to talk to anyone about the plight of foreign teachers. The department heads were having a meeting. The secretaries and other staff who were quite friendly in the past were evasive. No one wanted to speak because of the uncertainty of the situation.
March 9 was Ash Wednesday. Bok and I went to church to do our Catholic obligation. After the mass, we visited our college. Kiko wanted to request for a letter similar to the one given me, granting for a one month emergency vacation but the dean was not around. He was asked to go back on Sunday. On March 10, Thursday, Kiko left for Zletin while I attend to my laundry.
On Friday, I attended the mass and was happy that the number of attendees had increased. After the celebration, I saw some parishioners who went to the Bishop to ask for his blessing. (The Bishop was a look-alike of Pope John Paul II and was such a gentle person.) I decided to seek his blessing, too. He was already alone as I was walking towards him from the opposite direction. He was staring at me as I was approaching and when I was already within reach, he stretched out his hand and grasped mine. He looked at me as he held my hand and said: "You are a strong woman. Your faith will give you courage." I got misty-eyed with his words. (The Bishop did not even know me personally.)
REACTION/S:
From Zletin, Kiko and I went back to Tripoli on Monday. Before we left the town, we looked for an open money transfer station but all were already close. Kiko was very anxious because of his daughters' predicament in the Philippines.
When we arrived in Tripoli, we learned that we didn't have LPG anymore. Our landlord lent us a kerosene-fuelled single burner so we could cook. He told us that LPGs were manufactured in Benghazi and Misurata, two cities which were under heavy fighting. We also learned that the internet and text messaging have been blocked . Communication is only through phone calls so the regime could monitor conversations.
On Tuesday, Kiko went to the bank to get his remaining money while I went to the university to talk to anyone about the plight of foreign teachers. The department heads were having a meeting. The secretaries and other staff who were quite friendly in the past were evasive. No one wanted to speak because of the uncertainty of the situation.
March 9 was Ash Wednesday. Bok and I went to church to do our Catholic obligation. After the mass, we visited our college. Kiko wanted to request for a letter similar to the one given me, granting for a one month emergency vacation but the dean was not around. He was asked to go back on Sunday. On March 10, Thursday, Kiko left for Zletin while I attend to my laundry.
On Friday, I attended the mass and was happy that the number of attendees had increased. After the celebration, I saw some parishioners who went to the Bishop to ask for his blessing. (The Bishop was a look-alike of Pope John Paul II and was such a gentle person.) I decided to seek his blessing, too. He was already alone as I was walking towards him from the opposite direction. He was staring at me as I was approaching and when I was already within reach, he stretched out his hand and grasped mine. He looked at me as he held my hand and said: "You are a strong woman. Your faith will give you courage." I got misty-eyed with his words. (The Bishop did not even know me personally.)
REACTION/S:
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Chapter 1 - Libya's Awakening . . . (Post # 9)
March 05-06, 2011 - Saturday/Sunday
I woke up early, meaning to say, I stood up at once after praying the rosary. (Usually, I switch on the alarm at 5:00 AM and pray the rosary. After praying, I sleep again and wake up at 8:00 AM to start my day). For today, we had to go back to the bank to get Kiko's remaining cash before proceeding to Zletin so I really had to get up early. I wore a floral midi dress with brown accent, brown coat, and the ash brown pants to which Kiko sewed the secret pockets with the money. I didn't like my pants because I felt that it didn't match my other outfit so I told Kiko about my concern. He looked at me sharply and with a snarl, said: "What! We are in a critical situation and all you can think of is the combination of your clothes!" I raised my eyebrow and with a naughty smile, retorted, "Hello, if you have to engage in some exciting adventure, you might as well do it in style." "Ang arte mo!(You're so fussy!)," he chided. Anyway, I had no choice but to wear the said pants.
We met Khasim, my Iraqi pal, at the bank. He told us that when he withdrew his salary midday of last Thursday, the maximum withdrawal per transaction was LYD 500 and it has been the limit since then. I remembered my hesitation to go to the bank early that Thursday and the fact that Kiko and I were able to get LYD 5000 each. Mentally, I told myself: "Oh, so Mr. Kiko's common sense paid off again (in reference to other situations in the past)." Verbally, I remarked to Kiko and Khasim about how good God was and how he had guided us last Thursday. Kiko answered, "I know that you have a good relationship with God so I'll give you one of my checks. I'll take the queue two times and if you'd be able to withdraw the check I would give you, then we could have LYD 1500 today. I'll withdraw the remaining balance next week."
I prepared myself to follow the line for women (separated from the men). I said a silent prayer as I lined up. When it was my turn already, I gave the lady teller a sweet familiar smile while handing Kiko's check (she knew me by face though I wasn't sure if she knew me by name.) She was saying something in Arabic which I could not understand. I gave her an inquiring look, still with the smile on my lips. She shook her head and gave a sigh, then she handed me the LYD 500. I said "Salaam alai kum" and left the counter. I passed Kiko in the men's line and he said, "Malakas ka talaga sa Diyos, ha!" (You're really close to God, huh!).
As I waited for Kiko on a bench near the entrance, I had time to observe people. There were more people who lined up for the 500 dinar per family incentive fee from the government. Different kinds of people queued the line: young and old, rich and poor (judging from the clothes they wear). I wondered about the political stand of these people. Do they get the money because they still believe in the Great Leader or was it just for survival?
After the bank transaction, we went to the terminal for Zletin. We passed by the port of Tripoli and saw the ship rented by the Philippine government to transport Filipinos out of Libya. We heard that it would go to Greece where the repatriates would wait for their flight going to the Philippines. We also saw lines of people, mostly dark Africans, with their luggages, waiting for their ride back to their native country. As we were leaving Tripoli, I noticed walls smeared with paint covering anti-government slogans which protesters wrote on the walls. I did not pay much attention to them.
Having known about confiscation of cell phones on checkpoints, I kept mine at once. Kiko did not keep his mobile phone because he said it was just cheap and the border patrols would not be interested. At the first checkpoint, young-looking soldiers peeped through the car windows and asked the driver where the vehicle was going and the number of foreign passengers it had. They requested for our passports and we said, " Filipini ... doctors (Most Libyans have the notion that if you are teaching in college, you have finished PhD so teachers in college are usually addressed as doctors.)... then we mentioned the name of our university. One of the soldiers asked for our cell phones. I shrugged my shoulders and shook my head but Kiko, who went through body search, showed his phone saying it has no pictures. The soldier got the cp and removed its memory. Kiko attempted to make a protest but the soldier had already instructed the driver to move on.
We didn't get the passport from the driver anymore. Nine more checkpoints where to be passed on and the same procedure would be undertaken. At the third checkpoint, a soldier asked for cell phone again. Kiko showed his phone telling him that the memory has already been confiscated at the first checkpoint. The man got the phone's SIM and gave the cp back to Kiko. "S..t!" He blurted as the van sped away. Kiko was so pissed off, thinking of his contacts in his SIM (I was tempted to say, "Hello, you were the one who told me not to declare my cell phone, remember?" But it would be like declaring war, so I just kept quiet.) All the other checkpoints were just routinary. They did not search our things, even Kiko did not undergo another body search, especially when the driver announced that his foreign passengers were "Filipini ... doctors ... Al Fateh (our university)".
We passed by Khoums, a city 1 1/2 hours of easy driving from Tripoli. Kiko had to get the passport of his wife from one of the Pinoy profs there. Our batchmate, Concon, was the one who introduced us to the new teachers from Davao, in Southern Philippines. They shared with us their baptism of fire in Libya.According to them, during the second week of the rebellion rebels tried to take over the pro-government Khoums. One night, demonstrators marched on the city's main thoroughfare going to the police headquarters. The teachers' flat was located on the said street, three or four buildings away from the HQ. As the night progressed, the crowd became unruly. They tried to open the gate of the headquarters and tried to climb the fence. The police had no choice but to defend themselves. When the teachers saw a sniper on the rooftop of the building opposite theirs, they decided to save themselves by lying on the floor. They prayed as they listened to the bursts of gunfire. Nine cars were burned by the rebels that night, those that were near the Police HQ. There was also one side of the HQ that was burned. Government reinforcement troops came to assist the local police. Khoums survived the siege but it was a very traumatic night for the six Davao ladies.
Finally, we arrived at Zletin. There was no sign of unrest in the town. The regime's flags were all over the town center so it's easy to identify whose side they patronized. We walked slowly because of the heavy load in my tummy. When we reached the flat, a black African guarding the entrance did not allow us to enter. I called up Thel to fetch us downstairs. The dark man said something to Thel pointing to Kiko and me. Thel smiled and said, "No, me wife; she friend." Apparently, the reason why we were not allowed to enter was because the guy thought that Kiko has two wives. Kiko asked me to call Therese, a Filipino colleague who lives in the same building. When Therese came down, she explained that I came to visit her and I would stay in her flat and not in Kiko's. That settled the problem. This showed that Zletin is a conservative place.
Therese stayed with Kiko and me in Tripoli for several months during our first year. She's like a sister and this visit gave us time to update each other. She had two flatmates, both English lecturers, but one of them, Malou, left two days ago for the Philippines together with Dario (also a tenant in the building), and Ate Remi from Mesolata, Edna's flatmate. They were pressured by their families that's why they decided to go back to the Philippines.
At about 5:00 AM Sunday we woke up with a start after hearing bursts of gunshots and the honking of cars. Therese had an 8:00 AM class and she was not sure whether she would go or not. One of her colleagues called up saying that the gunfire was in celebration of the liberation of Benghazi from rebels. It was held simultaneously in all pro-government areas. Later, we learned that it was just counter-propaganda. Benghazi celebrated it's freedom from the regime's clutches so the government conducted the mock celebrations just to create an impression of victory to the outside world and to the Libyan people.
When Therese left and I was alone in her room watching television, I realized that more than anything, the government was pre-occupied with protecting its image to the outside world. Where on earth would you find patrol guards who would confiscate laptops and cell phones (for possible pictures they could produce) instead of searching for guns, grenades and other firearms? And what government would have time to bother with covering up anti-regime graffiti on walls by repainting them within hours after they were written? Well, as Kiko said it, "It's only in Libya."
Lunch and supper were soulful meals, shared by people who had common sentiments, that is, to brave Libya's rebellion in order to earn money for families back home. The presence of Kiko's kids, Kithe and Khyce, was a welcome respite from the seriousness of the situation. Yes, Zletin was definitely peaceful, but there was something amiss which my heart could not identify.
REACTION/S:
I woke up early, meaning to say, I stood up at once after praying the rosary. (Usually, I switch on the alarm at 5:00 AM and pray the rosary. After praying, I sleep again and wake up at 8:00 AM to start my day). For today, we had to go back to the bank to get Kiko's remaining cash before proceeding to Zletin so I really had to get up early. I wore a floral midi dress with brown accent, brown coat, and the ash brown pants to which Kiko sewed the secret pockets with the money. I didn't like my pants because I felt that it didn't match my other outfit so I told Kiko about my concern. He looked at me sharply and with a snarl, said: "What! We are in a critical situation and all you can think of is the combination of your clothes!" I raised my eyebrow and with a naughty smile, retorted, "Hello, if you have to engage in some exciting adventure, you might as well do it in style." "Ang arte mo!(You're so fussy!)," he chided. Anyway, I had no choice but to wear the said pants.
We met Khasim, my Iraqi pal, at the bank. He told us that when he withdrew his salary midday of last Thursday, the maximum withdrawal per transaction was LYD 500 and it has been the limit since then. I remembered my hesitation to go to the bank early that Thursday and the fact that Kiko and I were able to get LYD 5000 each. Mentally, I told myself: "Oh, so Mr. Kiko's common sense paid off again (in reference to other situations in the past)." Verbally, I remarked to Kiko and Khasim about how good God was and how he had guided us last Thursday. Kiko answered, "I know that you have a good relationship with God so I'll give you one of my checks. I'll take the queue two times and if you'd be able to withdraw the check I would give you, then we could have LYD 1500 today. I'll withdraw the remaining balance next week."
I prepared myself to follow the line for women (separated from the men). I said a silent prayer as I lined up. When it was my turn already, I gave the lady teller a sweet familiar smile while handing Kiko's check (she knew me by face though I wasn't sure if she knew me by name.) She was saying something in Arabic which I could not understand. I gave her an inquiring look, still with the smile on my lips. She shook her head and gave a sigh, then she handed me the LYD 500. I said "Salaam alai kum" and left the counter. I passed Kiko in the men's line and he said, "Malakas ka talaga sa Diyos, ha!" (You're really close to God, huh!).
As I waited for Kiko on a bench near the entrance, I had time to observe people. There were more people who lined up for the 500 dinar per family incentive fee from the government. Different kinds of people queued the line: young and old, rich and poor (judging from the clothes they wear). I wondered about the political stand of these people. Do they get the money because they still believe in the Great Leader or was it just for survival?
After the bank transaction, we went to the terminal for Zletin. We passed by the port of Tripoli and saw the ship rented by the Philippine government to transport Filipinos out of Libya. We heard that it would go to Greece where the repatriates would wait for their flight going to the Philippines. We also saw lines of people, mostly dark Africans, with their luggages, waiting for their ride back to their native country. As we were leaving Tripoli, I noticed walls smeared with paint covering anti-government slogans which protesters wrote on the walls. I did not pay much attention to them.
Having known about confiscation of cell phones on checkpoints, I kept mine at once. Kiko did not keep his mobile phone because he said it was just cheap and the border patrols would not be interested. At the first checkpoint, young-looking soldiers peeped through the car windows and asked the driver where the vehicle was going and the number of foreign passengers it had. They requested for our passports and we said, " Filipini ... doctors (Most Libyans have the notion that if you are teaching in college, you have finished PhD so teachers in college are usually addressed as doctors.)... then we mentioned the name of our university. One of the soldiers asked for our cell phones. I shrugged my shoulders and shook my head but Kiko, who went through body search, showed his phone saying it has no pictures. The soldier got the cp and removed its memory. Kiko attempted to make a protest but the soldier had already instructed the driver to move on.
We didn't get the passport from the driver anymore. Nine more checkpoints where to be passed on and the same procedure would be undertaken. At the third checkpoint, a soldier asked for cell phone again. Kiko showed his phone telling him that the memory has already been confiscated at the first checkpoint. The man got the phone's SIM and gave the cp back to Kiko. "S..t!" He blurted as the van sped away. Kiko was so pissed off, thinking of his contacts in his SIM (I was tempted to say, "Hello, you were the one who told me not to declare my cell phone, remember?" But it would be like declaring war, so I just kept quiet.) All the other checkpoints were just routinary. They did not search our things, even Kiko did not undergo another body search, especially when the driver announced that his foreign passengers were "Filipini ... doctors ... Al Fateh (our university)".
We passed by Khoums, a city 1 1/2 hours of easy driving from Tripoli. Kiko had to get the passport of his wife from one of the Pinoy profs there. Our batchmate, Concon, was the one who introduced us to the new teachers from Davao, in Southern Philippines. They shared with us their baptism of fire in Libya.According to them, during the second week of the rebellion rebels tried to take over the pro-government Khoums. One night, demonstrators marched on the city's main thoroughfare going to the police headquarters. The teachers' flat was located on the said street, three or four buildings away from the HQ. As the night progressed, the crowd became unruly. They tried to open the gate of the headquarters and tried to climb the fence. The police had no choice but to defend themselves. When the teachers saw a sniper on the rooftop of the building opposite theirs, they decided to save themselves by lying on the floor. They prayed as they listened to the bursts of gunfire. Nine cars were burned by the rebels that night, those that were near the Police HQ. There was also one side of the HQ that was burned. Government reinforcement troops came to assist the local police. Khoums survived the siege but it was a very traumatic night for the six Davao ladies.
Finally, we arrived at Zletin. There was no sign of unrest in the town. The regime's flags were all over the town center so it's easy to identify whose side they patronized. We walked slowly because of the heavy load in my tummy. When we reached the flat, a black African guarding the entrance did not allow us to enter. I called up Thel to fetch us downstairs. The dark man said something to Thel pointing to Kiko and me. Thel smiled and said, "No, me wife; she friend." Apparently, the reason why we were not allowed to enter was because the guy thought that Kiko has two wives. Kiko asked me to call Therese, a Filipino colleague who lives in the same building. When Therese came down, she explained that I came to visit her and I would stay in her flat and not in Kiko's. That settled the problem. This showed that Zletin is a conservative place.
Therese stayed with Kiko and me in Tripoli for several months during our first year. She's like a sister and this visit gave us time to update each other. She had two flatmates, both English lecturers, but one of them, Malou, left two days ago for the Philippines together with Dario (also a tenant in the building), and Ate Remi from Mesolata, Edna's flatmate. They were pressured by their families that's why they decided to go back to the Philippines.
At about 5:00 AM Sunday we woke up with a start after hearing bursts of gunshots and the honking of cars. Therese had an 8:00 AM class and she was not sure whether she would go or not. One of her colleagues called up saying that the gunfire was in celebration of the liberation of Benghazi from rebels. It was held simultaneously in all pro-government areas. Later, we learned that it was just counter-propaganda. Benghazi celebrated it's freedom from the regime's clutches so the government conducted the mock celebrations just to create an impression of victory to the outside world and to the Libyan people.
When Therese left and I was alone in her room watching television, I realized that more than anything, the government was pre-occupied with protecting its image to the outside world. Where on earth would you find patrol guards who would confiscate laptops and cell phones (for possible pictures they could produce) instead of searching for guns, grenades and other firearms? And what government would have time to bother with covering up anti-regime graffiti on walls by repainting them within hours after they were written? Well, as Kiko said it, "It's only in Libya."
Lunch and supper were soulful meals, shared by people who had common sentiments, that is, to brave Libya's rebellion in order to earn money for families back home. The presence of Kiko's kids, Kithe and Khyce, was a welcome respite from the seriousness of the situation. Yes, Zletin was definitely peaceful, but there was something amiss which my heart could not identify.
REACTION/S:
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Chapter 1 - Libya's Awakening . . . (Post # 8)
March 04, 2011 - Friday
We went to church this morning. After the mass we went home where Kiko prepared a delicious meal. I decided to exchange room with him because mine had door and windows opening up to the terrace (which was the reason why I had chosen it before). I feel my room is unsafe these days. Kiko's room had only a door leading to the hallway and was a lot bigger (he turned it into a mini playground when his kids arrived and stayed with us for awhile.
When I was trying to convince Kiko about the idea of exchanging rooms, I told him that I like to have a bigger room so I could put my bed as faraway from the windows as possible and that would give me some leverage in case the flat would be bombed. Bok retorted, "If this building would be bombed, they'll drop it to the rooftop and it won't matter wherever you put your bed." I made a face at him and started spilling my possessions in his room so he had no choice but to transfer his things to my former quarters. He finished fixing his new room earlier because I had accumulated more things (and because I took my time doing my chore .... as always!).
Bok and I had an agreement that I would go with him to Zletin because he had to bring his money there. (There was a Western Union office which was still open in Zletin before he left.) He was desperate to send most of his money to the Philippines because his daughters need it very badly. The last time he sent was in January yet. I wasn't so worried because I was able to send money before the rebellion started and Benjo, my second son, told me not to worry because he would take care of the family in case I wouldn't be able to send money at once.
Usually, money from the bank comes in 5 or 10 dinar bills (if you get 20's, you're really lucky!) so LYD 5000 is definitely quite a bundle. having to pass through 10 checkpoints made Kiko anxious about the attention it would get so he decided to bring me along. According to him, women do not normally go through body search. He asked to choose a pair of loose pants from my wardrobe on which he could sew secret pockets to store the bundles of cash we have to bring as we travel.
By the time Kiko was finished sewing, I was not even halfway fixing my new room. By then I was already too tired to even lift a finger. He asked me to try the pants on while he fixed dinner. I tried it on, practiced walking and sitting on it, and exclaimed: "Okay, I look like a pregnant woman but at least it's comfortable." He said, "I used two big handkerchiefs instead of plastic bags which was my original plan because I know you'd feel uncomfortable with the plastic."
After dinner, we decided to watch a movie (our second favorite pastime, the first one is talking endlessly for hours about any topic under the sun, usually after meals). We watched it in his room (because my room was still messy and we would eat potato chips and drink Pepsi Max and I didn't like spill offs on my bed). The movie , "The President", was a 2005 American movie starring Michael Douglas. It was actually a love story between the widower American president and an activist lobbyist, but there was one scene there which was quite eerie. In that scene the President was called to an emergency meeting by his national defense and foreign affairs staff because Libya was threatening to bomb Europe using nuclear power within the next 24 hours. The US Intelligence had pinpointed the Libyan command center from which the bomb would be activated. The suggestion of his men was to bomb the Libyan Intelligence Center, because they are already pressed with time. They discussed whether there was a possibility of missing the target and hurting civilians in the other buildings nearby. The president was assured that they would not miss because it was precision target and computerized. He was faced then with the dilemma of authorizing the bombing of the said Libyan office. He was informed that there were civilian employees in the building who might not be aware of the military activities in the other parts of the edifice. He asked how many shifts were working in that building and when told, he instructed his men to choose the shift with the least number of staff in the building. Then reluctantly, he said: "Go ahead, bomb Libya" (referring to the office spoken of).
REACTIONS:
We went to church this morning. After the mass we went home where Kiko prepared a delicious meal. I decided to exchange room with him because mine had door and windows opening up to the terrace (which was the reason why I had chosen it before). I feel my room is unsafe these days. Kiko's room had only a door leading to the hallway and was a lot bigger (he turned it into a mini playground when his kids arrived and stayed with us for awhile.
When I was trying to convince Kiko about the idea of exchanging rooms, I told him that I like to have a bigger room so I could put my bed as faraway from the windows as possible and that would give me some leverage in case the flat would be bombed. Bok retorted, "If this building would be bombed, they'll drop it to the rooftop and it won't matter wherever you put your bed." I made a face at him and started spilling my possessions in his room so he had no choice but to transfer his things to my former quarters. He finished fixing his new room earlier because I had accumulated more things (and because I took my time doing my chore .... as always!).
Bok and I had an agreement that I would go with him to Zletin because he had to bring his money there. (There was a Western Union office which was still open in Zletin before he left.) He was desperate to send most of his money to the Philippines because his daughters need it very badly. The last time he sent was in January yet. I wasn't so worried because I was able to send money before the rebellion started and Benjo, my second son, told me not to worry because he would take care of the family in case I wouldn't be able to send money at once.
Usually, money from the bank comes in 5 or 10 dinar bills (if you get 20's, you're really lucky!) so LYD 5000 is definitely quite a bundle. having to pass through 10 checkpoints made Kiko anxious about the attention it would get so he decided to bring me along. According to him, women do not normally go through body search. He asked to choose a pair of loose pants from my wardrobe on which he could sew secret pockets to store the bundles of cash we have to bring as we travel.
By the time Kiko was finished sewing, I was not even halfway fixing my new room. By then I was already too tired to even lift a finger. He asked me to try the pants on while he fixed dinner. I tried it on, practiced walking and sitting on it, and exclaimed: "Okay, I look like a pregnant woman but at least it's comfortable." He said, "I used two big handkerchiefs instead of plastic bags which was my original plan because I know you'd feel uncomfortable with the plastic."
After dinner, we decided to watch a movie (our second favorite pastime, the first one is talking endlessly for hours about any topic under the sun, usually after meals). We watched it in his room (because my room was still messy and we would eat potato chips and drink Pepsi Max and I didn't like spill offs on my bed). The movie , "The President", was a 2005 American movie starring Michael Douglas. It was actually a love story between the widower American president and an activist lobbyist, but there was one scene there which was quite eerie. In that scene the President was called to an emergency meeting by his national defense and foreign affairs staff because Libya was threatening to bomb Europe using nuclear power within the next 24 hours. The US Intelligence had pinpointed the Libyan command center from which the bomb would be activated. The suggestion of his men was to bomb the Libyan Intelligence Center, because they are already pressed with time. They discussed whether there was a possibility of missing the target and hurting civilians in the other buildings nearby. The president was assured that they would not miss because it was precision target and computerized. He was faced then with the dilemma of authorizing the bombing of the said Libyan office. He was informed that there were civilian employees in the building who might not be aware of the military activities in the other parts of the edifice. He asked how many shifts were working in that building and when told, he instructed his men to choose the shift with the least number of staff in the building. Then reluctantly, he said: "Go ahead, bomb Libya" (referring to the office spoken of).
REACTIONS:
Sunday, August 7, 2011
Chapter 1 - Libya's Awakening . . . (Post # 7)
March 03, 2011 - Thursday
I woke up very early. Bok wanted us to be at the bank at 7:00 AM, before the queue of people would start forming. Actually, I didn't feel like going to the bank today (mañana habit) but Kiko insisted that we should not postpone it because everything was uncertain so while the prospect of getting our money in the bank was at hand, we might as well grab the opportunity. The bank opened at 8:30 AM, with some commotion due to the crowd of people who wanted to get hold of their money. Kiko told me that we should withdraw all our money because we could never tell what's going to happen. Unfortunately, banks had limited cash already so they restricted the maximum amount of withdrawals. For those of us who came early, the maximum withdrawal was LYD 5000 (so I was able to withdraw all my money) but Bok who had more savings than me had to queue the line again to get the balance of his money. For his second transaction, the maximum withdrawal had been reduced to LYD 1000 which left about LYD 2000 more in his bank account. He decided to stay until Saturday to get his remaining cash in the bank before going back to Zletin.
After our bank transaction, we decided to go around the city center to look for money transfer stations (Western Union or Money Gram) but they were all closed (part of the US sanction on Libya). Most of the shops in Medina were still open although the customers were not as many as before. (Medina is like Divisoria in the Philippines). At Saha Qadra, Mo'men was burned (or bombed?) and was a tangible proof of the unrest. This was a fastfood restaurant and a favorite hang-out of Pinoys in Tripoli. It's directly facing the Green Square (Saha Qadra's English name) and was singled out to be destroyed (for what reason, I really don't know.) We saw more than 20 new portalets which made me remark: " Where in the world could you find a government who would be thinking of the hygiene of the demonstrators at the height of an uprising?" "Well, that's only in Libya!" Kiko quipped.
Bok noticed people staring at us and he said that perhaps, they were wondering what these two foreigners were doing, roaming around the city as if everything was normal when majority of the foreigners had already left the country. On our way back to the flat, we saw a burned police station. I made a mental commentary that Libyans are not destructive people. Lamp posts were intact, billboards were untouched and these could have been easily destroyed by protesters.
Reflecting on our trip to the city center, I thought about the big banner hanging at the bottom of Saha Qadra's grandstand, which caught my attention. It said :"When there are problems, brothers talk about these among themselves; they do not quarrel". (A call for peace or just propaganda?)
Reaction/s:
I woke up very early. Bok wanted us to be at the bank at 7:00 AM, before the queue of people would start forming. Actually, I didn't feel like going to the bank today (mañana habit) but Kiko insisted that we should not postpone it because everything was uncertain so while the prospect of getting our money in the bank was at hand, we might as well grab the opportunity. The bank opened at 8:30 AM, with some commotion due to the crowd of people who wanted to get hold of their money. Kiko told me that we should withdraw all our money because we could never tell what's going to happen. Unfortunately, banks had limited cash already so they restricted the maximum amount of withdrawals. For those of us who came early, the maximum withdrawal was LYD 5000 (so I was able to withdraw all my money) but Bok who had more savings than me had to queue the line again to get the balance of his money. For his second transaction, the maximum withdrawal had been reduced to LYD 1000 which left about LYD 2000 more in his bank account. He decided to stay until Saturday to get his remaining cash in the bank before going back to Zletin.
After our bank transaction, we decided to go around the city center to look for money transfer stations (Western Union or Money Gram) but they were all closed (part of the US sanction on Libya). Most of the shops in Medina were still open although the customers were not as many as before. (Medina is like Divisoria in the Philippines). At Saha Qadra, Mo'men was burned (or bombed?) and was a tangible proof of the unrest. This was a fastfood restaurant and a favorite hang-out of Pinoys in Tripoli. It's directly facing the Green Square (Saha Qadra's English name) and was singled out to be destroyed (for what reason, I really don't know.) We saw more than 20 new portalets which made me remark: " Where in the world could you find a government who would be thinking of the hygiene of the demonstrators at the height of an uprising?" "Well, that's only in Libya!" Kiko quipped.
Bok noticed people staring at us and he said that perhaps, they were wondering what these two foreigners were doing, roaming around the city as if everything was normal when majority of the foreigners had already left the country. On our way back to the flat, we saw a burned police station. I made a mental commentary that Libyans are not destructive people. Lamp posts were intact, billboards were untouched and these could have been easily destroyed by protesters.
Reflecting on our trip to the city center, I thought about the big banner hanging at the bottom of Saha Qadra's grandstand, which caught my attention. It said :"When there are problems, brothers talk about these among themselves; they do not quarrel". (A call for peace or just propaganda?)
Reaction/s:
Friday, August 5, 2011
Chapter 1 - Libya's Awakening . . . (Post # 6)
March 01-02, 2011 - Tuesday/Wednesday
Yesterday, I said my goodbye to Alex and Tom, and it gave me a feeling of sadness. Alex informed me about the looting at the airport, where laptops and expensive cell phones were being taken by soldiers. Indians did not inform their government about it because their embassy would advise the airline company to bring the plane elsewhere and it would be more difficult for those who were in Tripoli. I was surprised that they had a plane at the capital while Filipinos had to travel to Tunisia, Malta or Egypt. We also talked about the situation at the Tunisian border which the United Nations had declared to be critical. The Tunisian government could not handle the influx of refugees so the UN had to give its assistance. Tom told me that the Indian repatriation would be up to March 10 only --after that, they have to spend for their own fare should they decide to go home. We wished each other good luck and safe journey. In my heart, I was still hoping that we would see each other again.
I called up Saed, the one in-charge of our payroll at the Finance Office of the University. I inquired about our February salary and he said that it's already in the bank. I sent an SMS to Kiko, Noel and Lovie. (Noel and Lovie's college is also under our university so they assigned me to follow up salaries and stuff because Libyans are generally more accommodating to women.) I just stayed in my flat and washed clothes. I called up Dr. Naj and told him that I had to work on some things in my flat and would be meeting some colleagues during the weekend.
On Wednesday, Bok came when I was talking to Inna on Skype. He was in a bubbly mood and told Inna that I won't go home anymore because he's already around. (We did not see each other for almost two weeks.) He also said that Inna should not worry about me any further because he would take care of me.
After my talk with Inna, Kiko spoke to his mom and sister, apologizing for not being able to communicate with them more often. He said that Zletin's communication network was blocked --both the phone lines and internet connections. He told them that if they like to have an update on the situation in Libya, they should contact me. He introduced me to them. I told his mom that Kiko was a good person and it was to her credit that she had raised him well. I excused myself and as I was walking towards my room, I heard his sister ask my age... " Oh, she looked younger!" (Oh, flattering, eh!) and Bok saying, "She's the best Pinoy English teacher in Tripoli....no, in the whole of Libya." (Ows! He wouldn't be caught saying that in front of me, he NEVER gave me complement, just criticism.). No offense to my Filipino colleagues, it was just the opinion of a friend ....and it could be very subjective, huh.
Reaction/s:
Yesterday, I said my goodbye to Alex and Tom, and it gave me a feeling of sadness. Alex informed me about the looting at the airport, where laptops and expensive cell phones were being taken by soldiers. Indians did not inform their government about it because their embassy would advise the airline company to bring the plane elsewhere and it would be more difficult for those who were in Tripoli. I was surprised that they had a plane at the capital while Filipinos had to travel to Tunisia, Malta or Egypt. We also talked about the situation at the Tunisian border which the United Nations had declared to be critical. The Tunisian government could not handle the influx of refugees so the UN had to give its assistance. Tom told me that the Indian repatriation would be up to March 10 only --after that, they have to spend for their own fare should they decide to go home. We wished each other good luck and safe journey. In my heart, I was still hoping that we would see each other again.
I called up Saed, the one in-charge of our payroll at the Finance Office of the University. I inquired about our February salary and he said that it's already in the bank. I sent an SMS to Kiko, Noel and Lovie. (Noel and Lovie's college is also under our university so they assigned me to follow up salaries and stuff because Libyans are generally more accommodating to women.) I just stayed in my flat and washed clothes. I called up Dr. Naj and told him that I had to work on some things in my flat and would be meeting some colleagues during the weekend.
On Wednesday, Bok came when I was talking to Inna on Skype. He was in a bubbly mood and told Inna that I won't go home anymore because he's already around. (We did not see each other for almost two weeks.) He also said that Inna should not worry about me any further because he would take care of me.
After my talk with Inna, Kiko spoke to his mom and sister, apologizing for not being able to communicate with them more often. He said that Zletin's communication network was blocked --both the phone lines and internet connections. He told them that if they like to have an update on the situation in Libya, they should contact me. He introduced me to them. I told his mom that Kiko was a good person and it was to her credit that she had raised him well. I excused myself and as I was walking towards my room, I heard his sister ask my age... " Oh, she looked younger!" (Oh, flattering, eh!) and Bok saying, "She's the best Pinoy English teacher in Tripoli....no, in the whole of Libya." (Ows! He wouldn't be caught saying that in front of me, he NEVER gave me complement, just criticism.). No offense to my Filipino colleagues, it was just the opinion of a friend ....and it could be very subjective, huh.
Reaction/s:
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Chapter 1 - Libya's Awakening . . . (Post # 5)
February 28, 2011 - Monday
Following the instruction of Dr. Shabous, I went to the college this morning. My colleagues from India were about to go and asked me to hurry up so I can join them. Two colleagues from Iraq arrived after me. Dr. Shabous prepared a letter signed by the dean, giving foreign teachers one month emergency vacation. I asked if Kiko would also be given the same letter but Dr. Shabous said that he had to request it and get it personally. After handing my letter, Dr. Shabous gave me his email address and told me to keep in touch. He asked me to come back soon because he didn't want the college to miss me.
We had to proceed to the Immigration Office at the main campus of the university so our passports could be stamped with exit and re-entry. It was 11:20 on my watch and we had to be there before 12:00 noon. Alex and Tom, my Indian colleagues, invited me to join them in their rented car. Along the way, we saw long queues of people in the banks, spilling out onto the sidewalks, waiting to be given 500 dinar (for each family per month) as promised by Khadaffi to assuage the feelings of Libyans and prevent them from joining protests. Tom asked Ali, the Libyan driver, if he got his share already. Ali snarled saying, "What am I, a small child who would be given a lollipop after being made to cry? They can have all the money they promised but I will not fall for it!" Tom shrugged his shoulders and remarked, "You're really angry with the man, huh!" Ali said, "Forty-two years (of being under the regime), that's too much!"
We reached the building at ten minutes before twelve and had to literally run from the parking lot to the 4th floor where the IO was. There was a group of foreign professors in the office waiting for their passports to be processed. Others were turned away due to some technicalities. I really appreciated Dr. Shabous for taking the initiative to prepare our letters and expedite things for us.
When we finished our business, Tom asked Ali to bring me to my flat. He brought Alex and Tom to their flat first then, he asked permission to meet somebody at the Indian Embassy before bringing me to my flat. Since it was an opportunity for me to go around the city and observe the situation, I agreed. Everything seemed normal, at least in the streets where we passed. At the Indian Embassy, crowds of Indians with their luggage were all over, filling up the sidewalk in front and across the embassy.
From the Indian Embassy, we proceeded to my flat in Souq Jomaa. Nouri, my landlord, and his family were very happy to see me. He told me that I could stay with them if I felt scared. I told him not to worry about me because I could take care of myself. Actually, what I really wanted was some moments of solitude to think whether I would go home to the Philippines or stay in Libya.
(At this point, I'd like to share excerpts from an article which I read from the internet when I arrived in the Philippines last April. It was posted on the net on February 28 that's why I'm including it on this page. This article helped me to understand the Libyan rebellion and appreciate the heroism of the Benghazi rebels.)
From NPR News, written by Lourdes Garcia Navarro
Libya's Rebellion Spawns a Trio of Unlikely Heroes
Barely one week since Benghazi, Libya's second largest city fell into the hands of pro-democracy rebels, it already produced a pantheon of heroes. Three unlikely heroes was spawned by Libya's rebellion: a ball-cap wearing human rights lawyer whose arrest sparked the unrest; an air force pilot who wouldn't bomb his own people; and a balding middle-aged oil executive whose daring raid on a base dealt the final blow to the regime in Benghazi.
The Lawyer: Fathi Terbil, 39 years old, represented the families of those killed in a prison uprising against Muammar Ghadaffi's regime in 1996. One thousand two hundred people (political detainees, according to Dr. Naj) were slaughtered at Abu Selim Prison, among them three members of Terbil's family, including his brother. For years, he held solitary weekly protest in front of the courthouse,demanding justice. He was arrested seven times and was repeatedly tortured. On February 15, Ghadaffi's regime made a crucial mistake when it nabbed him again in Benghazi. Protesters, following the examples of Egypt and Tunisia, came out to the streets to demand his release, lighting the spark of revolution. Now, he is a member of the transitional governing council.
The Pilot: Capt. Abdul Salam Al Abdely, 49 years old air force pilot, was told to bomb rebel targets in Eastern Libya during the first days of the rebellion. When he refused, his co-pilot put a gun to his head; instead of complying, Abdely ejected himself from the plane. This act was one of the most dramatic incidents in the uprising. Later he told his father that he couldn't bomb his own people.
The Oil Executive: Mahdi Ziu was a father of two girls and a middle manager of the state oil company. He joined the protests as soon as they happened and became furious and saddened by the bloodshed. Many rebels were holed up around the main military base in the city with no luck breaking into the heavily defended compound. Ziu's wife said he would come home with his clothes smeared with blood from carrying dying and wounded comrades.
On February 20, sick with the carnage, he loaded his black Kia with propane cylinders without telling anyone. He drove it to the base and rammed it into the front gates, blowing them up. Demonstrators protesting outside the base were able to take it over. A few hours after Ziu sacrificed his life, the base was overrun and the city was taken over by the pro-democracy forces. This proved to be the turning point in the battle for Benghazi.
Following the instruction of Dr. Shabous, I went to the college this morning. My colleagues from India were about to go and asked me to hurry up so I can join them. Two colleagues from Iraq arrived after me. Dr. Shabous prepared a letter signed by the dean, giving foreign teachers one month emergency vacation. I asked if Kiko would also be given the same letter but Dr. Shabous said that he had to request it and get it personally. After handing my letter, Dr. Shabous gave me his email address and told me to keep in touch. He asked me to come back soon because he didn't want the college to miss me.
We had to proceed to the Immigration Office at the main campus of the university so our passports could be stamped with exit and re-entry. It was 11:20 on my watch and we had to be there before 12:00 noon. Alex and Tom, my Indian colleagues, invited me to join them in their rented car. Along the way, we saw long queues of people in the banks, spilling out onto the sidewalks, waiting to be given 500 dinar (for each family per month) as promised by Khadaffi to assuage the feelings of Libyans and prevent them from joining protests. Tom asked Ali, the Libyan driver, if he got his share already. Ali snarled saying, "What am I, a small child who would be given a lollipop after being made to cry? They can have all the money they promised but I will not fall for it!" Tom shrugged his shoulders and remarked, "You're really angry with the man, huh!" Ali said, "Forty-two years (of being under the regime), that's too much!"
We reached the building at ten minutes before twelve and had to literally run from the parking lot to the 4th floor where the IO was. There was a group of foreign professors in the office waiting for their passports to be processed. Others were turned away due to some technicalities. I really appreciated Dr. Shabous for taking the initiative to prepare our letters and expedite things for us.
When we finished our business, Tom asked Ali to bring me to my flat. He brought Alex and Tom to their flat first then, he asked permission to meet somebody at the Indian Embassy before bringing me to my flat. Since it was an opportunity for me to go around the city and observe the situation, I agreed. Everything seemed normal, at least in the streets where we passed. At the Indian Embassy, crowds of Indians with their luggage were all over, filling up the sidewalk in front and across the embassy.
From the Indian Embassy, we proceeded to my flat in Souq Jomaa. Nouri, my landlord, and his family were very happy to see me. He told me that I could stay with them if I felt scared. I told him not to worry about me because I could take care of myself. Actually, what I really wanted was some moments of solitude to think whether I would go home to the Philippines or stay in Libya.
(At this point, I'd like to share excerpts from an article which I read from the internet when I arrived in the Philippines last April. It was posted on the net on February 28 that's why I'm including it on this page. This article helped me to understand the Libyan rebellion and appreciate the heroism of the Benghazi rebels.)
From NPR News, written by Lourdes Garcia Navarro
Libya's Rebellion Spawns a Trio of Unlikely Heroes
Barely one week since Benghazi, Libya's second largest city fell into the hands of pro-democracy rebels, it already produced a pantheon of heroes. Three unlikely heroes was spawned by Libya's rebellion: a ball-cap wearing human rights lawyer whose arrest sparked the unrest; an air force pilot who wouldn't bomb his own people; and a balding middle-aged oil executive whose daring raid on a base dealt the final blow to the regime in Benghazi.
The Lawyer: Fathi Terbil, 39 years old, represented the families of those killed in a prison uprising against Muammar Ghadaffi's regime in 1996. One thousand two hundred people (political detainees, according to Dr. Naj) were slaughtered at Abu Selim Prison, among them three members of Terbil's family, including his brother. For years, he held solitary weekly protest in front of the courthouse,demanding justice. He was arrested seven times and was repeatedly tortured. On February 15, Ghadaffi's regime made a crucial mistake when it nabbed him again in Benghazi. Protesters, following the examples of Egypt and Tunisia, came out to the streets to demand his release, lighting the spark of revolution. Now, he is a member of the transitional governing council.
The Pilot: Capt. Abdul Salam Al Abdely, 49 years old air force pilot, was told to bomb rebel targets in Eastern Libya during the first days of the rebellion. When he refused, his co-pilot put a gun to his head; instead of complying, Abdely ejected himself from the plane. This act was one of the most dramatic incidents in the uprising. Later he told his father that he couldn't bomb his own people.
The Oil Executive: Mahdi Ziu was a father of two girls and a middle manager of the state oil company. He joined the protests as soon as they happened and became furious and saddened by the bloodshed. Many rebels were holed up around the main military base in the city with no luck breaking into the heavily defended compound. Ziu's wife said he would come home with his clothes smeared with blood from carrying dying and wounded comrades.
On February 20, sick with the carnage, he loaded his black Kia with propane cylinders without telling anyone. He drove it to the base and rammed it into the front gates, blowing them up. Demonstrators protesting outside the base were able to take it over. A few hours after Ziu sacrificed his life, the base was overrun and the city was taken over by the pro-democracy forces. This proved to be the turning point in the battle for Benghazi.
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