My Time in Libya - a simple Benghazi Story

Once upon a time, I was a massage therapist aboard a small cruise ship on a very interesting route. Aboard the Silverseas SilverWind ship, we stopped in Tunisia, Lebanon, Syria, Libya, Egypt and many other exotic ports that Americans do not regularly visit.

This was in 2005-2006, before the big "Benghazi crisis" and during the time that Gaddafi was still in power. Libya had only JUST opened to tourists and the people were very much not used to seeing blond haired, blue eyed girls in their early 20's. I was a unicorn, a myth... an impossible creature. Also, I was inappropriately dressed, brazenly baring my arms...not trying to make a statement, just being clueless. This image is me in Lebanon, but I am sure that I was as inappropriately dressed in Libya...I will post the other images when I locate them!

Several times, I was privileged to go to Libya in this precarious window. Mostly, I had long lunch breaks or half days I could spend there. During one of my journeys, I was being followed by a group of men. I was feeling nervous, as I was alone and they crept behind me like cats. Ducking into buildings when I turned around and shouting the only english words they knew to say to a female who was not in Burka..."You FK ME?" Now, I am from New York, and I was not accustomed to being spoken to with that level of sexist disrespect, so I obviously told them to "Go FK themselves" and continued on my way. More men gathered and I started to get nervous. That is when I heard a friendly sounding, and excited call "AMMMERRRICAN GIIIRRRLLL!" from the window of a moving cab. The tone was so friendly and so excited that I immediately knew it was safer for me to get in their cab then to stay on the street. Here is a pic of the friends I met that day.

The one on the right was my driver (We will call him Ahmed to protect his identity in case there are issues with this post), and on the left we shall call him Omar. On the left is a man who is or was a teacher, and on the right a cab driver. In the middle is my Chillean friend , Patty, who was brave enough to venture out with me. These men were SO excited to see us so they could practice their English. They had no idea they were saving me from a very uncomfortable situation. They drove me around Benghazi and Ahmed took me to see his girlfriend in a salon that she owned. She barely cracked the door. Men are NOT allowed to see inside a salon in Libya. Most women wear burka or lots of coverings, so I was a bit confused at WHY they had salons. When I got inside, I was shocked to see beautiful women, heads uncovered, in designer jeans, makeup perfect and hair done. They looked like models. Then, on went the Hijab or Burka, the beauty was fully covered and out she walked, showing no trace of the glamor underneath. I wish I had pictures. It was a truly enlightening moment.

After we left the salon, we went to a coffee shop. I had picked up an old book called " Arabic for the Englishman", in Egypt. This is a long out of print book with an Arabic dialect that was probably spoken in the 1800's. One of the unique things about Libya is that, while most of the Arab world speaks French as a second language, Libians speak Italian as a second language, as they was the imperial force that they were subjected to. Thus, their Arabic is also different from other countries. The book was hilarious, and we spent hours trading phrases like "Please Madame, for you to dance with me would be a pleasure" and "Dear Sir, bring me a horse and some tea for my lady". We cried tears of laughter. These men treated me like a friend, and not an object like the men on the street. They were fascinated with me and how I did not fit their stereotypes that they were expecting. We had a wonderful time. I did not want to leave. This was my last time in Benghazi.

When, a couple of years later, the city was besieged by bombs and Gaddafi was unseated, Libya retreated again into the shadows and no longer accepted tourists....something it only did for a tiny little snapshot of time. I was lucky to get to go. Unlike others, when I heard of the bombs, I did not feel the people were being liberated. I was thinking of Omar and Ahmed and his girlfriend and the salon. Of cabdrivers and teachers and beauty therapists being bombed in the name of "freedom". I am not sure if they are alive. I hope they are. I hope they got out.

When you think of Libya, for a moment consider the individual lives... the funny people. The good hearted people. Throughout the middle east, I met warm, generous, sweet people who were so eager to share their lives with me. I learned that it is only Politicians, wealthy people and armchair warriors that perpetuate violence. On the other side of every bomb is a warm smile who only wants to share language, laugh and drink coffee.

Sending my love to Libya, and hoping that one day I may return and find my sweet friends alive and well. I wish I could find the rest of the pics from this day.

Here is my tour guide from a later trip. He was incredibly funny.

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