Far from Victory

Far from Victory

In a sprawling camp in the Libyan desert, Mohamed Othman stands outside his makeshift tent, cradling his daughter Entisah. Meaning “Victory” in Arabic, Entisah was born in this tent just two days previously, as shells rained down on Ajdabiya, her family’s home until a few days ago.

Thousands have fled Ajdabiya in the past two weeks, many ending up here, on the side of the Tobruk - Ajdabiya highway, twenty-five kilometres away from the shell-marked town.

“We are all Bedouin here”, says Mohamed, talking about their ability to adapt to leaving the bricks and mortar of their houses, replacing them with the wood from the trees that used to be the sole inhabitants of this land.

With no access to the hospital, Entisah was born in the desert using traditional methods, “with help from the old ladies”.

“It is a situation we were brought into” says Mohamed, describing the conflict that consumed his town.

Ajdabiya was re-taken by rebels yesterday, forcing the Qaddafi troops back towards Brega. But the situation is still evolving rapidly, and with the troops so close to the town, many here are reluctant to leave just yet.

Khalid, a nineteen year old also staying here in the camp, came ten days ago. “It is very cold here at night” he says, “we all need water, tents and food”.

Speaking of his daughter’s future, Mohamed says “I hope she will live a better life than before”, and he hopes to be able to return to his home soon.

Outpost

Traveling back into Libya. An armed soldier mans the Tobruk - Ajdabiya desert highway.

Yesterday, Ajdabiya was re-taken from Qaddafi loyalists by rebel fighters. I couldn’t help but remember that this was the same road where a good friend of mine was kidnapped by the loyalists just a week previously.

Chadian Refugees

A group of Chadian men queue at the Egyptian border at Sallum having fled the escalating conflict in Libya. These men had left their country to find work and stability in their northern neighbour, but now find themselves stranded at the border without any proper accommodation. They are waiting to regularise their papers in order to be able to return home to Chad. In the meantime, cardboard roofs offer their only shelter.

Living in Fear

Living in fear

The vast majority of Libyans that one meets in the east of Libya, or fleeing across to Egypt, are adamantly anti-Qaddafi. But that’s not to say they don’t have an intrinsic respect for him and his apparatus, albeit one born of fear.

This man, wishing only to be described as “Gh.B.” was incredibly paranoid about speaking to us, for fear of retribution by the Libyan security services. “They can know you based on just a small part of your body, or your voice” he says. Whilst he said this, I adjusted the focus on my lens, rendering his silhouette out of focus to as not to provide a detailed profile as he sat in the apartment being lent to him in Marsa Matrouh. Two days previously, he was reluctant about having even his shadow photographed.

Gh.B. has reason to fear the Libyan security. He claims to already have a “political file” in the country and having suffered imprisonment. Despite being “under surveillance”, he decided to take part in the protests that marked the start of the Libyan revolution. But due to what he describes as “political intimidation”, he had to take the hard decision of leaving behind Libya, and his family there. “I asked my mother to leave with me” he says, talking of the day he left, “but she is old, and could not travel such long distances”. She is now staying with Gh.B.’s brother.

“I am so worried about my family - I can’t call them, we cannot communicate” he says. His fear is born of both the war, and of the Qaddafi agents remaining in Benghazi.

Unsure of when he will be able to return to Libya, he says “I feel there is no future for us; it is so dark for us now”.