Esther Kofod - The Libyan

THE LIBYAN

A Memoir

ESTHER KOFOD

This is my story, a work of creative non-fiction. Some names and identifying details have been changed to protect the privacy of the people involved.

Copyright 2015 Esther Kofod

All rights reserved.

ISBN: 0989054306

ISBN-13: 9780989054300

Library of Congress Control Number: 2013935365

Whitfield Press

Tallahassee, Florida

This book is dedicated to the men and women of Libya who have fought for peace and freedom...

And to the Libyans who will not live to see it happen.

To my children and grandchildren, the lights in my soul

And to my husband, the love of my life

HISTORY OF LIBYA

ROMAN ERA..................................................146 BC - 640 AD

ARAB RULE....................................................640 - 1551

OTTOMAN RULE.1551 1911

ITALIAN COLONIZATION..1911 1934

ITALIAN LIBYA.1934 1943

ALLIED OCCUPATION..1943 1951

KINGDOM OF LIBYA.1951 1969

GADDAFIS DICATATORSHIP.1969 2011

LIBYAN REVOLUTION.February 2011

LIBYAN INDEPENDENCE...October 2011

TABLE OF CONTENTS

CHAPTER 1 Birth in the Desert, 1942

CHAPTER 2 Esther

CHAPTER 3 Washington, D.C.

CHAPTER 4 The Journey Begins

CHAPTER 5 Florida

Chapter 6 Libya

CHAPTER 7 Tripoli

CHAPTER 8 The Bubble Room

CHAPTER 9 Tarek

CHAPTER 10 Sabrata

CHAPTER 11 Gaddafi

CHAPTER 12 Moscow

CHAPTER 13 Kamal

CHAPTER 14 Last Day in Libya

CHAPTER 15 Jamahiriya Airport

CHAPTER 16 Tallahassee

CHAPTER 17 The Betrayal

CHAPTER 18 The Journey Ends

CHAPTER 19 Death in a Foreign Land

EPILOGUE

CHAPTER 1

Birth in the Desert, 1942

After the most intense and brutal battle fought by the Afrika Korps in the Second World War, the strategic port of Tobruk, on the northern shores of Libya, fell to the Germans under Rommel. It was 20 June 1942, and it was a grim outcome for the Libyans. After suffering for years under the Italians led by Rodolfo Graziani, otherwise known as The Butcher of Libya, Libya was now under Nazi control.

In a small stone house on the western coastal town of Sabrata, a very pregnant young woman and her husband were awakened by an urgent loud knock on their front door.

Alarmed, Ibrahim told his frightened wife, Stay here and dont move!

He rushed to the next room and carried two sleeping boys to their mother, gently placing them beside her, nestled in sheep skins for bedding and woven Berber blankets for covers.

I dont know who it is, so be very quiet, he whispered to his wife. He could see that she was scared, and he wanted to reassure her, but the knocking became more persistent. He left the room, closing the door behind him and locked it with the large key that always stayed in the keyhole.

Taking a deep breath, Ibrahim prepared to deal with whoever was outside his house in the middle of the night. He wished now that he had taken Rogaya and his sons to Ramadi weeks ago.

The retreat of the British and the presence of German troops had spurred thousands of Libyans to flee into the desert, to seek refuge from the bombardment and killings. Rumors of atrocities committed by Italian and German troops spread fear and hatred among the people, helpless to protect themselves except by flight.

The Sahara desert to the south, far away from the towns along the Libyan coastline, provided a temporary sanctuary for many. Libyans from cities and towns along the coast returned to their Berber roots, to tribes they had left, who now welcomed them back with open hearts. Their families and tribes shared with them what little they were able to eke out of the arid land by growing barley and raising sheep and goats. Occasionally, even a camel would have to be slaughtered for food. The code of unconditional loyalty and hospitality within the tribes, which had fortified them throughout centuries of foreign domination, now protected them from the threat of atrocities by the Italian and German armies.

When Ibrahim opened the heavy wooden door, he was surprised to see Renato, the Italian who owned the small grocery store in town, standing there.

It is okay, Ibrahim, Im by myself, Renato quickly explained, his distinctive Roman features silhouetted against the night shadows.

Tobruk has fallenthe Germans are already in Tripoli, and will be coming to Sabrata on their way to Tunisia. They could be here by tomorrow!

Renato spoke in a hurried whisper, furtively looking around, listening.

Youre a good man, Ibrahim, and I dont want anything bad to happen to you or your family.

Ibrahim stood still, seemingly calm in his bedclothes, intently listening and absorbing the implications behind Renatos warning.

Renato had risked breaking the curfew imposed by the Italians to warn him, a man for whom he had utmost respect and admiration. He had seen Ibrahim help others over the years, regardless of who they were: Libyan or Italian. He was afraid his friend would not survive the Germans and their rumored cruelties towards the Libyans. He would be too proud and too stubborn to tolerate any form of injustice. Ibrahim was the undeclared Libyan capo or leader of Sabrata.

You know theyve killed many Libyans along the way, and taken whatever they wanted. Those who protested were tortured and killed... Renato paused, seeing Ibrahim flinch in the little light afforded by a quarter moon.

You must leave immediately, my friend, before its too late.

Renato was sweating by now, fearing for his own life. Ibrahim knew it would not have been good for the Italian to be caught talking to a Libyan in the dead of night.

Grazi , Signor Renato. Ibrahim was touched by the mans concern for him and his family. I will, but first let me accompany you back to your house.

No, Ibrahim, you are kind to offer, but I will be safer without you. May God help you and your family and, Inshallah , I will see you again one day.

Quietly and quickly, Renato disappeared into the silence of the night.

After reassuring his wife that everything was going to be alright, Ibrahim Ben Ramadan went about making a pot of strong tea. He took it outside and drank it in the dark, looking up at the stars. His only concern was for his family, and he knew the time had come for him to take them to his familial village of Ramadi, in the desert to the south. Rogaya was eight months pregnant and food was becoming scarce. They had to leave immediately. The British would not give up easily, and Ibrahim feared that Rogaya would not have the strength to live through a birth under those circumstances.

As soon as he got his family to safety, he vowed to himself that he would return to Sabrata to start a resistance movement against the Germans. Swallowing the last of his tea, his mind made up, Ibrahim started preparing for the journey. He gathered the stores they had been able to put by, including jars of olives and Gideed , sundried lamb preserved in olive oil, which Rogaya had saved for the celebration of the babys birth. As the first of the suns rays crept over the house, Ibrahim secured everything to the sides of the camel that he and his younger son, Ali, would ride. On the second camel, which he covered with carpets and sheep skins, he helped his wife settle as comfortably as she was able. Their elder son, Abdullah, rode with his mother so he could help keep her steady on the long bumpy ride.

Are you sure youll be able to make it? Ibrahim asked Rogaya just before they set off. He knew they were doing the right thing, but to undertake this journey at such an advanced stage of pregnancy was an ordeal he wished with all his heart he could spare his wife.