Libya, a page from my diary
So much of our time is preparation, so much is routine, and so much retrospect, that the path of each man’s genius contracts to a very few hours in the day and that is the time in life one must enjoy. Life is too short to be small and too important to be taken seriously. We always need something to look forward to, if we want to enjoy life. I have spent the honeymoon period of my life in Benghazi, the second capital of Libya, and there is a lot to reminisce and perhaps revere about this place, a substantial part of which can be put in words for us and our contemporary compatriots living there to recall and enjoy. Life is a continuous learning experience and the time spent in this vast country is like a big canvas where I can throw ample paint to inscribe my experiences.
I was sent on deputation to the Ministry of Health in this North African country during the summer months. Not knowing much about the place I was somewhat blank in my perception about it. There wasn’t much literature available either so I drew a picture of the place in my imagination; a boundless sea of sand, inhabited by tall, dark Africans, where the life would be without much charm. When I landed at Benghazi International Airport, it was around midnight in the month of June and freezing cold out there in the open. I was, however, delighted to find out the following morning that it was wonderfully pleasant even during the day, allaying my apprehensions that the mid day sun would be scorching hot as against the cool desert nights. The climate was typically Mediterranean and so were the people; fair complexioned, friendly and hospitable.
The Libyan Monarch, King Idrees, had been over thrown in a bloodless coup by a group of young army officers lead by the incumbent ruler Muammar Al Qaddafi, a few years before my arrival in that land, and one could easily witness the colossal development work carried out during the monarchy in this colourful port city. Situated on the Mediterranean coast, this small but bustling metropolis was the capital of Cyerinica in the east of the country. Going further east one would come across virgin beaches and endless green meadows spread over Jabal ul Akhdar (the Green Mountains) for hundreds of miles. The foreigners formed the bulk of the work force of the city of which the Pakistani expatriates formed a size able number. The community was large with its own school up to higher secondary level and a busy community club, a social interaction rendezvous. Besides that we had a group of nearly dozen families of doctors and engineers that strongly believed in keeping the community life in motion and devised ways and means to achieve this end. Life in Benghazi was always in the fast lane.
Exceptionally congenial working conditions and moderate friendly weather provided us the impetus to work out an enviable social life during the week days. The past times included frequent visits to the community club where table tennis, playing cards and gup shup kept us busy till late hours in the night. It was an interesting place where people of all age groups intermingled in a very friendly way. It was like an extended family, where fraternal spirit reigned supreme, and age and seniority were given due consideration in day to day dealings. The occasional visiting entertainers from Pakistan attracted large audiences and it was a sort of carnival for the people who were starved of professional stage performances. Some amateurs from the community also enlivened the occasion.
The weekend activities were, however, different. Night picnics in the adjoining Eucalyptus Forest in Gawarsha, in the outskirts of the city, were a common feature in summers. Not far from the city suburbs this spot was a safe haven for the picnickers who could enjoy the cool summer nights out in the open. The bright, sunny days of the winter were also spent in the same woods where large crowds, including locals and foreigners, inhabited the area in groups and played different games, besides trying their hands on cooking. Darts, cricket and cards were the games we generally played in the day picnics while the kids played pithu and other desi ball games. The highlight of the night picnics was a lively gathering around a bonfire, fueled by dry twigs and fallen foliage of the jungle trees and we played cards, tortured our vocal chords with film songs and exchanged jokes and other pleasantries till the wee hours of the morning when it was time to pack up for a late Sunday morning in bed.
Cooking was done by the ‘lesser halves’ in the group while the collection of the firewood was entrusted to the kids of different age groups. It used to be an off day for the ladies who just enjoyed seeing us perform house hold chores in their stead, for a change, and only did the occasional dish washing, as disposable items were mostly in vogue on such outings. The ‘kitchen’ duties were allocated. The surgeons in the group prepared the meat for cooking while a physician, assisted by his aides, always volunteered with his cooking expertise. The engineers in the group fixed the tents while on camping sprees. Those who did not fit in the afore-mentioned ‘specialist categoriess’ were entrusted with odd assignments, generally meant for chhotas, that included procurement of grocery. The food, though simple, used to be simmering hot and was followed by a variety of fruit. We just believed in two things; something to do and something to love.
Camping in the jungle or on the beach is a tradition with the locals and, taking a cue from them, we also arranged camping trips on long week ends. Camping, without caravans, was done in the middle of nowhere. We have camped a number of times near Al Merj, the former King’s proposed and well laid out, summer capital, approximately hundred KM away from Benghazi, and once up in the scenic mountains, overlooking a juniper plantation, near Shahat, another 100 KM further east. Luxury tents were pitched somewhere in the jungle in a circle, cars were parked between the tents and that was the beginning of fun. We have left our tent villages and personal belongings unguarded for hours and driven to far off places from the camping site and, believe me, not a single item was ever lifted or pilfered. These camping expeditions were always an excellent opportunity to comb the area; from the wild beaches on one side to green meadows on the other. Ninety percent population of the country lives in the 10 % area along the beach and the highway connecting the main towns and cities runs along the coast for over 1000 KM.
We also spent many a holiday on the beach, living in the beach huts, or on a fruit farm not far away from the city municipal limits and it was altogether a different experience in these two outings. The beach hut, off the coastal highway, was surrounded by the Mediterranean sea and a sandy beach on one side and a vegetable farm on the other which was looked after by an Egyptian agriculture engineer. It was near Tokra, a small town roughly eighty km from Benghazi, in the foot hills of the Green Mountains. Spending the time at the white sand of the virgin beach and wading through the fresh, blue sea water was an experience of sorts that we enjoyed like any thing. Children made castles in the sand and became expert sculptors in the process. The only scare in spending the night on that beach was the fabled presence of dreadful scorpions in the undergrowth, though we were lucky not to have encountered them in person. We had to make concerted efforts to plug all the visible gaps and holes underneath the doors to preempt the entry of these poisonous creatures.
The fruit farm where we spent the Eid holidays year after year was owned by a former minister, who would move to Makkah in the holy month of Ramadan and return after Eid. The stay at this farm, a few km away from the main city, though less adventurous, was no less enjoyable. It was a huge fruit farm with lavish living quarters but the part that we enjoyed the most was the variety of high quality fruit that was easily available for picking. Fresh figs, juicy pomegranates, a variety of citrus and pulpy sweet plums were available in abundance in the orchards. Children would pick the fruit of their choice from the trees, arrange it in a large basket placed under a hand pump of sweet water and readied it for consumption. The nibbling and munching of the fruit was a continuous feature while at the farm, and playing different games and lively chit chat were the other past times that we enjoyed. Fresh milk, cheese and butter were freely available in the dairy storage rooms.
The attractions in the city were a little too many. A lovely promenade ran near the traditional souks and was visited by the shop goers and indolents who wanted to laze around in their free time. This place is virtually washed with the sea water during the high tide, soaking the nearby road and the vehicles parked in the parking lot. A number of beaches, owned by different departments and companies, were also available in the city limits and it was the medical beach that we were entitled to. We made good use of this facility and went there for swimming in feasible weather. Children also enjoyed the privacy of the beach and enjoyed the cool sand, in the short heat spells the city experienced in the peak summer season.
The place that nature had bestowed generously with its blessings, started telling the ill effects of the poor governance of its autocratic rulers, who were moving the country to an indigenously fabricated form of socialism. Almost every thing of any significance was nationalized by the government and giant, decorative, multistoreyed departmental stores were set up in different areas, which, unfortunately, always fell short of the necessary merchandise. We started witnessing queues for items of daily use like bread, eggs and other food stuff and these queues got longer and longer with every passing month. The city gradually started loosing its characteristic ambiance and, the once vibrant colours of the place started to fade. It was time for the swallows to pack up and return home to enter a new era of life. We had the ultimate satisfaction of having lived all the days of our lives as long we were there and not a single precious moment was wasted. We never were the creature of circumstances and the life we lead there was worth living. Life is not a dress rehearsal, it must be enjoyed and enjoy we did. We all had the objective of being happy and our lives, though different, were yet the same. It was a great learning experience.
Written by Dr. Shahid Qayyum
Published by Alisha Khuram
