A Travelogue Otherwise...

My classmate Hamim is currently teaching at a University in Tripoli, Libya. He was instrumental in facilitating my tour to the country; a tour down the memory lane. A tour to Kufra, an oasis town in the formidable desert of Sahara.

 

I took an AFRIQIYAH flight which was Libyan Airlines previously on a February night. The direct flight from Dhaka to Tripoli took almost 13 hours to reach. Tripoli airport is now a modern one. Though I am not in a position to compare precisely how it was back then in the nineties when I last visited the country.

 

It took another two hours flight to reach Benghazi, the western port city and the previous capital of the country. Now we have to take a bus to the desert city of Kufra. There is a second World War era airbase in Kufra and a weekly flight is available.

 

But we took a Bus rather waiting for the flight. I still can remember, the last time, when I left Kufra. My dad was a government employee there like many other Bangladeshi professionals.  Interestingly, at the specialized colony where we lived, almost 90 percent were Bangladeshis and the rest were from India and Pakistan.

 

The small hills along the highway from Benghazi to Kufra seem smiling and welcoming me after I returned the oasis town after almost 19 years. It is about 1000 km from Benghazi, the second largest city of Libya.

 

 

After 12 hours journey through the Sahara desert by road, we reached the Kufra town. The place is still pretty same as it was when I left. A sense of nostalgia has already gripped me. I am roaming across the time, playing with my friends, doing mischievous things at the lap of the remote oasis town of Kufra, a different world all together.

 

 

I couldn't’t wait to see the place where I used to live, a small expatriate colony. I took a cab, after taking breakfast, to the place called Ghaazia. My heartbeat was already rhyming in tango with the emotional roller-coaster ride inside!

 

The colony is now inside a barbed-wire fencing and we couldn't enter. My friend tried to convince the sentries to enter the neighborhood but failed. I had to remain happy looking at the place, the bright brown sand was reminding me the memories of my childhood days.

  

I was surprised to see the volleyball court on the sand still intact. The community built a little mosque inside the colony which now is a large complex, probably with government initiative.

 

 

I had to return to Benghazi the same night. It was a half achieved endeavor. I felt, I should not have gone there alone. The bunch of my friends who are part of my sweet memory should have accompanied me. Well that is next to impossible. I dream to come back again.

 

I returned.

 

Everyday, to see the fighting on the streets, is very disturbing for me. I simply pray; not to see blood on the streets of the romantic beautiful oasis of Libya.

...the sudden bang swiftly shattered my sleep. I found myself on the couch sleeping with the TV remote! The live coverage of the civil war, fantasy of returning to childhood and the stress of the day had brought me an exclusive experience, to write a travelogue, albeit differently.


 
First published in The Daily Sun