70 million year old fossil bird bones found in 2006

In 2006 I found the bones of a fossil bird near Center Nebraska. The preparer at UNL, Greg Brown prepared these from the original jacket collected with Mike Voorhees of UNL at the site. These bones are yet to be studied or described. Bird fossils are extremely rare. Collecting this many bones  in good condition from one bird is quite a find. These bones are about 70 million years old.

The Mountains on the way from Rome to Turkey

Limestone Chemical Erosion at Paradise Beach Libya

Miocene limestone exposed to the weathering effects of the ocean are disolved and eroded to make a facinating landscape east of Tripoli libya. Weathering of limestone involves carbon dioxide and water. Carbon dioxide dissolved in water provides ions that produces free hydrogen. Carbon dioxide in the atmosphere combines with water to form carbonic acid (H₂CO₃):

  H₂O + CO₂ -> H₂CO₃  

Though weak, when carbonic acid is combined with a mineral like calcite (CaCO₃)_,  an important part of limestone, calcium and bicarbonate ions are removed causing the rock to erode away. The uneven effects of this process create pockets, caves, and crevices seen in the photo. 

CaCO₃ + H₂CO₃  -> Ca⁺²  +  2 HCO_-3

Blue Waters of Paradise Beach Libya

The waters of the Mediterranean appear incredibly blue for a couple of reasons. First, oceans in general appear blue because blue is the wave length of light that penetrates water the most while the other colors are  absorbed. This blue wavelength is then scattered by particles, ripples, and oxygen in the water. Second, the bright blue mediterranean sky is also reflected to the observer making the water appear even more blue. Third, the Mediterranean ocean does not contain enough nutrients to support large amounts of algae that can tint the water green due to yellow pigments that they release when decaying. Close to shore in Libya, dissolved minerals from the eroding sandstone shores can give the water contrasting areas of bright turquoise.

Some good links to explore on this topic:
http://www.letusfindout.com/why-do-ocean-appears-blue/
http://www.bluesci.org/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2011/pdfs/BlueSci-Issue3.pdf
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Color_of_water
http://inside.mines.edu/fs_home/dwu/classes/CH353/study/Why%20is%20Water%20Blue.pdf

White tail doe and fawn

This white tail doe actually had twins which is quite common in white tail deer. Sixty-seven percent of mature does (more than a year old) have twins and on average, twelve percent have triplets. This photo was taken in Knox County Nebraska.

Evacuation From Tripoli: Part 5

This is the final chapter on our exit from Tripoli. Please read parts 1-4 before reading this conclusion to our exit from Tripoli.

Part 5: Please read parts 1-4 before reading this.

Our friend from the United Nations had wondered off, probably to check to see if his wife’s flight had left. We understood airplanes were standing on the runway, just sitting there because of the lack of organization and the chaos in the airport. He returned to us and with a big smile and he said to my wife “How would you like to go to Rome?” He explained that he had been visiting with the Italians and that he thought we might get a spot on their evacuation flight. I cannot express how excited we were. The Possibility of leaving Tripoli had seemed so remote only moments earlier. 

We made our way to the opposite end of the airport. This took some time, but eventually we came to a group of people. One tall gentleman was holding up an Italian flag. Since there was no cell phone service, people would make their way to the airport with the hope of buying a ticket. Most people would arrive to find the same chaos we found when we arrived earlier that day. If they were lucky, they belonged to a country where there was an embassy representative to help them. In the case of the Italians, they had organized an evacuation flight and were busy gathering their citizens. Our friend from the United Nations introduced me to this man. He explained our situation again and asked if we could go with them. He didn’t hesitate and said sure. We showed him our passports and he said fine. At any moment I was expecting a problem or some sort of red tape, but this group was there to help. We were soon joined by our friends that we had been visiting with earlier. It turns out that they were also Italian.

They took our information, introduced us to a few people and took off to get our boarding passes. A true miracle had transpired. Our friend from the United Nations said that he would stay as long as he could but that he would have to leave before dark. He explained that someone he knew had been shot at during the evening before. The said his friend had ducked and that the car had been sprayed with bullets. One of the bullets had lodged in the headrest behind the driver’s seat. This episode had taken place near a location called the Regatta where many expats lived. It really wasn’t too far from our school where one of our teachers had left for the airport that same night at 12 pm. She had made it without incident. He did not wish to be out after dark because of this and other stories.

 The wait for the boarding passes seemed to take forever. When we first arrived at the Italian rendezvous a group had just gotten their boarding passes and had left to board the plane. We waited patiently for our turn. Next to us a young woman became ill. She looked very faint and people were asking for food. Lenore had packed enough snacks to last us several days. We quickly provided chocolates, cookies, and an apple. I don’t know if the young lady was diabetic, exhausted, or just freaked by the whole situation. Anyway the snacks seemed to really help. As we waited it got later and later.

At one point a huge portion of the crowd erupted in cheers. It reminded me of a professional soccer match. I thought that maybe a large group had been listening to a match and that their team had scored a goal. It turns out that there was a rumor that a plane bound for Egypt had landed. The large number of Egyptians broke into cheers. Later at some point they began chanting. I am not sure what it was but everyone around them including us began holding up our cameras and filming and taking pictures of the spectacle. Eventually, a plainclothes military officer began roaming through the crowd telling people to stop taking pictures. People lowered their cameras until he passed and then raised them again as soon as he was looking elsewhere. It was just like in the Sistine Chapel at the Vatican. There a man stands in front telling everyone not to take pictures as thousands ignore him and take pictures of Michelangelo’s masterpiece. It was the same thing at the airport in Tripoli. No one was taking the security serious. There were just too many people to control. In some ways it was exhilarating, in other ways it was very scary.

What happened in that crowd of perhaps twenty to thirty thousand people, is probably similar to what happened in Egypt and Tunisia. We were all in the airport together and as a group we felt a certain sense of power. I believe all those people who had gathered to protest in those countries were empowered by their numbers and convictions. We also knew as a group in the airport in Tripoli that the lonely soldier was no match for us as group; we could take pictures if we wanted too. I can imagine the exhilaration of the people of Egypt standing in front of the soldiers in the square. It is great to be on the side of the crowd.

Eventually, a man returned with our tickets. We were some distance from the entrance to the airport. To enter we would have to go around the main body of the crowd and then go straight through the middle of multitude. We were told to stay close and to not get out of line. We needed to move quickly and keep next to each other. We had three carry on suitcases, a laptop bag containing our computer and two IPads, one adult backpack, and Katyann’s backpack full of Barbie dolls and her stuffed tiger and ‘pillowpet’ dog. My computer case also contained about five to ten pounds of student papers to be corrected and a number of educational CD’s so that I could teach my classes if we were not able to return for several weeks. This was not much if you counted it as all your worldly possessions, but it was quite a bit if you had to carry it for a long distance through a mob of thousands of people. A huge Italian security guard wearing a bright yellow vest with “Crisis” written on it scooped Katyann up and told us not to worry; he would keep her safe.

I almost said no to permitting the man to carry Katyann. She allowed him to carry her but you could tell that she was very afraid and about ready to cry. I thought, “it is our best chance if he is carrying her. He is much bigger than me and will be able to get through if I cannot.” As the sun set, we set out to follow the extremely tall man wearing a nicely tailored Italian suit and waving a small Italian flag. There were about thirty of us in our group. He yelled “Italianos” and we were off. We were accompanied by Italian security in bright yellow vests labeled Crisis in black letters. We were near the end of this Italian evacuation conga line with the big man carrying Katyann eventually working his way to the back to keep everyone going. I kept looking back. You could see that Katyann was terrified. Even on the outskirts, the crowd was dense. The security urged us on and we kept our eyes on the small well-dressed thin man holding high the Italian flag.

Most people on the outskirts of the crowd knew they weren’t going anywhere and parted to let us through. The Italian security were very forceful but very polite. Finally, we reached the last hundred yards right in front of the door. They told us again to stick together and not to stop for any reason. Here the crowd was not forgiving. These people were desperate to get into the airport. The masses at this point had lost their patience. Why should we enter and they could not?

As we pushed our way forward, the crowd began to push back. Libyan Soldiers appeared on either side trying to hold the crowd back. The Italian security and the Libyan soldiers dug their heels in and pushed back against the crowd. We pushed forward, they pushed back. Every once in a while a soldier would use his baton to beat back the crowd. We were almost to the door; in fact the first fifteen of our party of thirty made it through when the crowd finally broke down the security. People poured into the airport as the security beat them with their batons. You could tell that the Libyan soldiers were overwhelmed by the crowd. They closed the doors and we were stuck outside. We had almost made it. The crowd would surge forward and the soldiers would beat them with their sticks. We were stuck in the middle right in front of the door. I could see that the man holding Katyann kept talking to her as she cried and the people screamed on either side of her.

At one point a man would just not stop pushing and yelling. He was crying and clawing at the soldier who was trying to keep the crowd back. The soldier finally beat the man to the ground and started kicking him. It was impossible to know what to think. It was violent. There was blood and I wished my little girl was somewhere else. No one her age should witness such violence. I couldn’t even reach her. I wished she would just keep her eyes on me, but the sounds of the beating were too much she watched, cried, and reached for me. I couldn’t reach her with my arms. Only with our eyes could we connect.

The thunk of the stick connecting with a fellow humans was almost but not quite drowned out by the cries of crowd fighting to get in the airport. Saliva, sweat and possibly blood splashed off the victims into my face forcing me to wince and look away. These men, women and children were fighting to get out. The Libyan soldiers caught in the middle. For the most part they pushed back and tried to do their job. It seemed like only a handful had lost their cool and used their clubs. And here we were: the privileged and the chosen. We had a flight and they did not.  We were stuck on the outside for at least ten minutes but it seemed like hours. I could see the Italians arguing to let us in and the Libyan Airport security afraid of what would happen if they opened the doors. We waited to see who would win the argument.

Finally, about twelve soldiers and several Italian security guards reformed the corridor, the doors opened and we surged forward. So did the crowd. I remember squeezing past another huge Italian security. My eyes left my daughter for an instant to see him braced and pushing with all his might against the crowd; hands reaching past him, reaching for the safety of the airport.  Soldiers on either side were pushing back the crowd, beating them back with their clubs. They couldn’t hold so many back and people were breaking through. Several more people got between me and my little girl, but we were almost in. As we broke across the threshold, a Muslim lady in black with a white scarf covering her head squeezed under the security and entered behind me. She screamed for her family that had not managed to get in. What was she going to do now that she made it into the airport and her family was on the outside? Did she have money for airline tickets? Would she be able to find an airline that was selling tickets? Maybe she had lots of money and could get tickets for her family. If she did; she would have to go back out find them? Would they have to all fight their way back in?  The situation was so hopeless for so many.

Once we were back inside the airport, things were much simpler. We followed the line of Italians. Along the way the airport security would say “Italiano?” and we would hold our US passports in the air, waving them so they couldn’t see what country they were from, and say “si Italiano” in our best Italian accent. We snaked our way through the various levels of security with our boarding passes and no bags to check, we almost went right into the boarding area. We just had one more security check to go.  If we weren’t so desperate, it would have been funny. We had passed security into the boarding area and we were at the last immigration check point. Here about two hundred people patiently waited while about four Libyans checked passports, checked their screens to make sure we were not criminals, and stamped our tickets. It was excruciatingly slow.

We knew that at some point, that if it got to late our plane would not leave. Yet here, with all the patience in the world these four individuals were holding everyone up. We waited and we waited. Finally, someone said, you have a child. Go ahead.  Go to the front. At this moment, we only wanted to leave, to sit, to sleep, to not have to worry about our beautiful little girl. We picked up our bags and pushed our way to the front of the line one more time. Our beautiful daughter once again got us through and we were on to the plane. As we walked towards the plane with a group of Italians, a young Libyan airport worker kept saying “Why are you going? Everything here is fine. I live right down town by Green Square. Do you think I would be here if it was dangerous?” His convictions and concerns were true. He could not understand our panic. I pray that he is safe. He was a good person.

We passed right into the plane and found our seats. The plane was a very large Air Italian jet with a professional staff of stewardesses to make sure that we were comfortable. It was as if we were on any international flight. Eventually, the rest of the passengers made it through security. We had a long wait. It was very dark outside and at some point I began to have concerns that we might not take off. After some time, we eventually did take off and we were on our way to Italy, and then we went to Istanbul, then to Cappadocia, back to Rome and the Vatican, eventually settling in the United Kingdom to  begin rebuilding our lives. From that moment on I realized I can only root for Italian soccer teams and that I cannot hear anyone speak Italian without wishing to hug them. Viva Italia!

Part 4: Evacuation from Tripoli

Part 4, Please read Parts 1, 2 and 3 before reading this entry.

                Inside the airport, the scene was subdued, the walls were grey, and the florescent lights made most things appear dull and drab. The temperature was very hot and the mass of people in the enclosed area raised the humidity making everything feel damp. The airport terminal was old and everything was worn or broken. Yet the walls also delineated the space and created a certain sense of security. Here, the airport staff was able to more or less control the crowd. There were long lines, but sometimes they moved, and some people were able to check in, get boarding passes, and then pass through to the boarding area. There was some progress and there was limited hope. No one wished to return to the outside.

We left this semidarkness and security to break out into the bright sunlight, deep blue sky, and the brisk fresh Libyan air and to the area outside the terminal. As far as we could see, people were crowding to the airport: men wearing tunics carrying great big boxes and huge blankets, ladies all in black with only their eyes peering through slits, other ladies with heads covered and tiny babies. It was as if the whole world were gathering here for some big announcement. The crowd easily tripled since we had gone in at about noon. Inside the airport, although seemingly chaotic and claustrophobic, there was sense of finite space and boundaries. Outside, the mass of humanity was immense.  It was like entering another dimension. I felt like those people in TV show Stargate, who step through a barrier into another planet in another universe. The outside was incredible; So many people spreading out as far as we could see!

Everywhere we looked, there were individuals holding up flags of different countries.  People were flocking to the flags. Laughing and hugging as they discovered friends and fellow countrymen. Katyann was amazing. Even at the age of six, she could easily identify more flags than I could. She knew the Egyptian flag, the Dutch flag, the Italian flag and many others. It was fun to see what countries we could identify. We searched for the American flag, it was no where to be seen. Our friend asked us about the American evacuation plan. I knew very little of their plans. Only a couple of days earlier at a special staff meeting, they had insisted that everything was fine.

We found one of my students with her parents. They were waiting outside to hear if they were going to get a flight. The company that had brought them to Tripoli was trying to evacuate them. They were hoping to hear soon that they would be leaving. It was great to see another familiar face. We laughed and shared our experiences. We had brought chocolates that were shared and enjoyed. I told my student she should expect twice the homework now that we were going to miss a few days. Being with friends in the bright sunshine was very pleasant. Surrounded by thousands, we were together in our own world. Things just felt better.

Our friend from the UN would not leave the airport until he knew his wife’s plane had taken off. We left Lenore and Katyann with our friends from the school to put our bags in his car. I returned to my family but our benefactor wished to check and see if his wife’s plane had departed. He returned to say that he had seen a group from the United States. I left with him hurriedly to meet up with my fellow country members. I assumed that the embassy staff was here like so many other nations, trying to help their citizens evacuate the country. Hopefully, they had arranged for a plane and soon my family and I would be joining the other teachers from the school on our way out of Libya to safety.

We saw two white vans. As we approached, several of my students let out a yell. It was great to see them all sitting in the van. My friend from the UN quickly asked who is in charge. An American I had never seen before said “I am”. We rushed up to him and I said “I am from the school”. He looked at me confused and said “What school?”. I told him that I was from the American School of Tripoli and that I had been staying there with the other teachers. He appeared not to know about the American School or the teachers. When I saw the two vans I had hoped that they were there to rescue my family. I had mistakenly believed that the vans and the embassy staff had been at the airport to provide assistance like the flag waving representatives of the other countries. In reality they were in the same situation as my family and the thousands of others trying to get out of Libya. They were probably just as lost and confused as I was. I suppose they had arrived at the airport expecting a plane that probably couldn’t land or was canceled just like mine. Feeling a little befuddled and embarrassed, I started to retreat.

The parent of one of my students came out of the van and greeted me. She explained that they had hoped to leave but that it did not look like they were going to be able to. She said that they were working on a plan. She said that they might get a ferryboat and that they were working on it as we spoke. I told her good luck and not to forget the teachers still at the American school. After this brief conversation, I said I needed to get back to my family and started away.

I left preoccupied for several reasons. First, I was concerned that the US Embassy did not seem to be any better informed than I was about the situation at the airport or even in the rest of the country of Libya. I was concerned that if the embassy staff had gotten their flight, what would have been the level of the US embassy concern for the teachers still stuck in the school? To some extent we teachers believed that the US embassy was looking out for us. At least that is what they had told us at a staff meeting. We had been informed a few days earlier that although we were not their official priority, the US embassy and the school had a special relationship and we would be part of their plans. Also, I thought, if they were just now, at this point, looking into arranging a ferry to evacuate, it could easily be several days before that could transpire. All the teachers, and most importantly my family could be in real danger.

Walking away, almost instantly, I began to feel guilty. I realized that I was so preoccupied with my own situation and that of my family, I had not spoken to my students. In this huge mass of humanity, I had come across my students, brushed past them, interrogated the Embassy officer, talked briefly to a parent and left without interacting with the students. Surely, they were probably concerned and interested in my situation. I should have stopped and found out how they were doing.  In all the other occasions it had been so gratifying even to talk with someone who spoke my own language. Of all the people I had come in contact with that day, my interactions with the embassy staff and students were the most fleeting, the most dissatisfying, and most surreal. We had met briefly, the interactions incomplete, leaving me with a deepening sense of insecurity.

Returning, I was glad to see my wife. I was glad to see my baby girl. We hugged. And even though I had real trepidations about our future, it was great to be with my family. The student and her family that we had bonded with earlier were like old friends. We chatted and joked. It was as if my encounter with the embassy had never happened. I was looking forward to getting back to the school and being with the rest of the staff at the school. I felt I needed to warn them that flights were going to be very difficult and that there were no guarantees, even if they had a purchased ticket. Also, I needed to tell them that we needed to stick together. The airport was too dangerous if you were by yourself. The US embassy ferryboat evacuation seemed a little sketchy and not too sure at that point.

Stay tuned for Part 5 for the exciting conclusion to this story.

February 22, Trip to the Airport Part 3

Please Read parts 1 & 2 before reading part 3

My family, I knew, was huddled on the floor amongst the mass of people waiting for me to tell them which gate was ours. My wife was storing up her energy for what we knew was going to be another struggle. We would have to match our will against the masses of others fighting for a spot on every plane that was to take off that day. Every counter for every airline seemed to have a line of passengers at least a hundred people long waiting to get their boarding passes. Moments earlier, I had stood besides my family; listening to my daughter ask my wife if we were going to be OK and if we were going to be able to leave.  They had both cried; Lenore, asking Katyann to pray. I had left them with renewed commitment to find which check in counter was ours for the flight we had purchased on the internet the day before.  Now, I was contemplating how to tell them that our flight had been cancelled and that we would be back on our own in the bright Libyan sun in the middle of a civil war searching for a way back to where the rest of the teachers were hiding and awaiting their fate.

As I pulled myself together to tell Lenore about our cancelled flight and that we would probably need to walk back along the road to find a taxi back to our school, I heard the lady next to me speaking English. I asked her and found out that she truly had a ticket to leave; to what country wasn’t important. Once out of Libya, it would be much simpler for her to find a way home. What was important to me was that she was at the airport aided by her driver. She offered to have him drive us back to our school where the rest of the teachers were still waiting. Now, I had something better to tell my wife than the fact that we were stranded at the airport.

I made my way back to where my family waited. I explained the situation. We had never given up hope that our flight would be one of the ones that would eventually take off. The news that our flight was cancelled took the hope right out of us just like letting the air running out of a balloon. As soon as we entered the airport and could find someone to speak English we had discovered that many if not most flights were being canceled and that even the remaining flights scheduled for early that morning had been delayed by several hours. What we should have anticipated, the cancelation of our flight; should not have been such a surprise. Yet we had never doubted that we would eventually be on a plane, out of Libya, and back to a more normal world. We pulled it together because we needed to be strong for Katyann.

As I was pointing out the American lady to Lenore, I noticed a tall blond woman across the airport from where we were standing waiting in another line. It didn’t seem possible but it appeared to be the business manager from our school. We had thought that she had left days earlier, but there she was waiting in line, almost reaching the counter. I called out to her just to make sure. Again, the struggle to reach her across the crowded room began. When we could finally talk, she told a similar story to that of many in the room: flights cancelled and several return trips to the airport. She was waiting inline with her two children and husband. He was staying. He worked for the United Nations and had been through these evacuations so many times he could hardly remember all the countries. Still he was just as concerned as I was about getting his family to safety. Experience had taught him how quickly and unexpectedly things can change. 

We were glad to see each other in this sea of humanity, but she was obviously concerned for my safety and the safety of the other teachers still at the school. With familiar faces came new energy. Her husband offered to take us back to the school. This was great because he knew exactly where the school was and his connections with the UN made maneuvering around Tripoli so much easier. We waited another twenty minutes to make sure that she and her daughters made it through the gate to the boarding area. We imagined that beyond this gate was a simple matter of continuing to the gate area to await the take off of the plane. We would learn later that each new room brought another mass of people and another wait and struggle.

Our United Nations connection did not want to leave the airport until he was sure that his wife’s plane had gotten in the air. He also thought it would be best if we got out of the country as soon as possible. He insisted that I go check at the airline offices to see if I could get a ticket on a different flight while he stayed with Lenore and Katyann. Leaving the check in area meant that I would have to argue my way back into that secured after checking the airlines. Eventually, I found the office that British Midlands Airways shared with three other airlines. There was a small sheet of paper with British Midlands Airlines written and taped to the window of another airline. A large number of people gathered around the door to this office with the same intention as me. Men were holding up papers and yelling in Arabic. I patiently waited; eventually, not so patiently, I elbowed my way closer. Finally, I was close enough to forcefully ask about my BMI flight. Everyone stopped talking Arabic for a moment and looked at me and then resumed arguing and yelling.  I asked again and asked about getting tickets to some other country.  Finally someone said, “No tickets” and turned his back to resume his conversation. Everyone was trying to get tickets on airplanes that would probably not be leaving. It was very obvious that I was not going to get any tickets for my family from this or any other airline.

                As this was my first time stuck in a country at the beginning of a civil war, it is interesting to note that I wasn’t afraid of what was happening at that instant. With the chaos around us, the thousands of people panicked at every turn, my inability to speak Arabic, with the armed soldiers everywhere, still, I wasn’t afraid for that period in time.  I don’t think any of us ever expect to die. So in the moment we are fine. What caused me and causes me the most anxiety is my fear of what could happen in the future and my worry for my family. I could not and I cannot today envision living without them.

There were rumors everywhere that the airport was going to close. Even if it didn’t, getting in and out of it was becoming more and more dangerous. My concern again focused on what was going to happen once we returned to the school. How long could we hide out there? If the war escalated, what would happen to us teachers trapped in Tripoli. The US embassy had made it clear, that although they cared about us, we were not their primary responsibility. With these thoughts, I argued my way back into the check in area. The soldiers did not want me to pass, but I kept insisting, “My wife and child are there, I must get through!” Finally, they relented; I rejoined my family and our friend. Once rejoined, we made our way back through the crowd, out past the guards I had just argued my through, and into the sunshine and on to another place with more challenges.

Part 4 coming soon!

At the airport in Tripoli, February 22, 2011

Some of the crowd of people trying to leave Tripoli.

February 22, Trip to the Airport Part 2

Please read part one before reading this entry:

      The crowd that had collected in front of the airport was immense. It is hard to estimate how many people had collected by the time we reached the airport.  As we pulled up in the taxi a constant stream of people were getting out of cars. We walked about half a mile to reach the front of the airport. The closer we got the denser the crowd. On BBC we later heard estimates of 50,000 people at the airport that week. By 1:00 p.m. on Tuesday February 22, I would estimate two or three thousand people were waiting; although I could be way off. By any standard there were lots of people there. Near the entrance to the airport the crowd was dense. It seemed totally insensible to try and enter the airport, but with urgency and the idea that we had tickets booked on a flight, we began to fight our way through the crowd. We had three carry-on suitcases, and three other smaller bags that we were carrying, plus our six year old daughter Katyann. Although not much considering that thiswould end up being all our worldly belongings, it was enough to make manuevering complicated.  Finally when we could go no further, Lenore picked up Katyann and I grabbed all the bags except for Lenore’s daypack and we started to push forward. Evidently our determined looks, our young child, and our western look combined to part the crowd. We somehow managed to pass through while so many others were unsuccessful.

                I still marvel that we were able to get into the airport that first time. When we were dropped at the airport, it is true we had no ride back home, we were in fear of the impending revolution, we heard the rumors of people being shot and beaten, and we had a driving desire for survival to drive us forward. Our urgency was multiplied by our need to protect our child. Yet our need was no more urgent than the hundreds, possibly thousands of people already gathered there. We were not the only family. There were many mothers with babies and families with children. Many were weeping, most were lost with no where to go. We all had one purpose: to get into the airport and onto a plane to safely. Even though we were one of thousands with the same goal and in the same circumstances, we made it through and so many others did not.

                I think two factors made it possible for us to enter. First, we had a young child. Not only Libyans, but most North Africans have a special love of children. Although there were many families, the majority of the people waiting at the airport were young males. They were probably oil workers, mostly from Egypt and possibly Turkey as well as every other country in the world. These young men, not only often let us by, they sometimes helped pass our luggage forward also. Having a young child certainly helped but there were also other families with children that weren’t so lucky and probably were just as determined.

                The second reason is somewhat less clear but I believe because we were well dressed, confident, and western we were allowed through. It is as if people assumed we must have a flight. When we got to the door, there were soldiers guarding the entrance and only letting certain individuals through. As much as others may be discriminated against and probably exploited by the west, these individuals of darker skin and less income usually let us pass.  If they said Turkey, we said yes we are going there. What ever they called out, we said yes and pushed forward. At the door, Lenore pleaded that we had a young child; they let her in but stopped me. She kept yelling “that’s my husband”. Half way in and half way out they tried to push her back out.  When she wouldn’t budge, they finally let me follow. The inside of the airport wasn’t much better than the outside. Again pandemonium greeted us in the foyer.

                First, we had to pass our luggage through the baggage x-rays. They were being especially diligent and at this point, I lost my Swiss army knife, a multipurpose tool, and my nail clippers. You couldn’t blame them. Even though these items were in luggage that was to be checked, they really needed to make sure no potential weapons entered the airport. After this security check we were met with another mass of people trying to enter the check-in area. Again, people were fighting to get into the gate area which was being monitored and guarded by another set of security staff. I am not sure what the criteria was to get in, but when someone waived some British passports and said “British” they were let through. We waived our American passports and yelled “British” as we pushed behind the couple into the check-in area. Now at about 2 p.m. we began our search for the ticket counter for our flight. We couldn’t find it.

                There were long lines for every airline. We made our way through the crowd to the counters for British Airways. Even though this wasn’t our airline, we thought they might be affiliated with British Midlands Airways (BMI). There was no one at the counters although there were several people waiting. A sign written in crayon said London. Eventually though an airport official pulled the sign down and threw it on the floor; telling us that no flight to Britain would leave through that gate. We could find no one in the crowd that was scheduled to fly out on our flight. In fact we could find no sign of British Midlands Airways. Katyann and Lenore were exhausted. Lenore said that she felt faint. We found a place were they could squat while I went looking for our ticket counter.  I found people here in there who could speak English. None knew of the airline I was looking for. Some of the people had been in the airport for two days trying to get a flight. Hours earlier when we left for the airport, we had known nothing of the chaos that awaited us. Even after searching for over an hour without any sign of our flight we still had hope. At three p.m., it appeared that all the flights had been delayed by several hours. It was possible that our5 p.m. flight had not been posted yet.

                Finally, I found a Dutch person who flew out of Tripoli regularly and he informed that BMI shares with Austrian airlines. I made my way through the crowd and asked the gentleman at the Austrian Airline counter about the BMI flight at 5 pm. He laughed and said it had been cancelled. His laugh should have upset me, but he didn’t laugh at me. It was the laugh of the absurd. So many people trying to leave and there just were not enough airplanes or staff to accommodate them. His job was overwhelming. Hundreds of people clamoring to get on a flight; any flight to any country would have been fine.

Finding out that our flight was cancelled, that we were marooned in the airport, that we had no ride home, or really no safe home to return to, was one of the lowest moments. For an instant my eyes watered my knees shook. I felt hopeless, but I needed to pull it together for my family. Before I talked to Lenore, I needed to have a plan. Many years ago, I had found myself clinging to the side of a mountain with a similar feeling. Stuck on the side of a crumbling tower of rock, I had figured I was finished. No way up and no possibility of going back the same way I had gotten there, a fall to my death seemed inevitable. At that time, with no other options, I decided it was better to struggle forward than to die frozen in inaction. I survived and had learned a lesson. Here, again in the Tripoli Airport, with no way to go forward and not wishing to go back, I knew I needed to find a solution.

 At that point, the best option seemed to be to get out of the airport and walk out of the crowd till we got to where people were being dropped off. I figured we could probably find a taxi that was dropping someone off and get a ride back into Tripoli and to the school. This would seem fairly simple but remember, we did not speak Arabic and most of the regular taxi drivers did not speak English. There are no street signs in Tripoli, so communication can be a problem. Getting into a random taxi in Tripoli is also somewhat of a risk. We would have to go through army check points that were getting more and more dangerous with no one to translate. It was not a pleasant prospect, but at that moment it seemed the only option. We needed to do this before dark. Once it got dark, no one would be driving and the airport might become a very dangerous place.

Part 3 will be posted soon

February 22, Trip to the Airport Part 1

The following is an account of our trip to the airport in Libya.

February 22, 2011

After spending the night camped in our classroom, we left the school about 12:10. We were booked on BMI flight 470 at 5:15 p.m. Mohamed our driver explained that he was just about out of gas but he thought he could make it to the airport and back.  He informed us that all the gas stations were either closed or the lines where so long that it took hours to get gas. He had waited for two hours the evening before only to have the station close right when he got to the pumps. As we passed the first gas station on our way to the airport, sure enough, the lines were blocks long. This scene would be repeated as we passed two more gas stations. He told us that most Libyans had stocked up on plenty of food as soon as it seemed like there might be problems.  He himself had enough food for several months. He thought, only bread and gasoline were going to be the main problem for most people in the near future.

                This was the first time that we had ventured out since taking refuge in the school on the night that the conflict actually erupted in the capital of Tripoli. We had been following the uprising in Benghazi but the embassy had assured us that there was very little chance that the unrest would get very serious in our part of Libya. In the Taxi, my wife, six year old daughter and I were heading to the airport to catch a plane to Great Britain where we had friends. We were hoping at that time to return to work in a few days. I was nervous about traveling alone in the taxi with my family. I would have preferred traveling with one of the schools security guards or staying with the rest of the faculty as a group. We were advised that it was best to get out as soon as possible and that having a ticket and reservation was better than staying. Most of the other twenty or so teachers at the school were not able to book a flight until Wednesday. We thought that we were on of the lucky ones who were able to book a flight on Tuesday. We would later find out that we were not so lucky.

At the first check point the soldiers peered into the car and waived us through. I wasn’t even sure they were soldiers, but Mohamed assured me they were. He was ex-military himself and seemed to know how to get around. The soldiers had guns but were pretty much dressed in civilian clothes except maybe for a military beret or jacket worn my one or another of the 20 or so soldiers. It all seemed rather informal and not that threatening. I had been through Central America and Nicaragua during that conflict in the 80’s. In leaving Nicaragua to Honduras, the Honduran soldiers were very intimidating and threatening. The Libyan soldiers seemed polite and congenial by comparison.

That is one of the things I have always liked about Libya. The soldiers always seemed like they were trying to keep order and were more concerned about doing their job rather than threatening anyone. I would not hesitate to ask a Libyan soldier for assistance if needed; something I would be intimidated to do in other countries where the soldiers have more of an attitude. It always seemed that they didn’t want to inconvenience you anymore than necessary. Often they would just wave us through check points.

This is not to say that the military or the police in Libya are always friendly. There was a short period of time when I and a few teachers were pulled over at these check points. I had my car papers confiscated because I did not have a Libyan driver’s license but a friend was able to get it back without too much trouble. This practice only happened a couple of times. I had also experienced evenings where it appeared that there was an attempt to round up illegal immigrants. A few evenings we had witnessed large roadblocks were the soldiers appeared to be checking the papers of certain individuals and putting them in trucks. Those evenings were a little scary but they always waived our car through. The blue square and number on our license plate indicated that we were foreigners from the United States. The soldiers on these evenings had a much more serious expressions and I was glad that they did not ask me any questions.

This day on the way to the airport was bright and sunny and the temperature was cool but pleasant. It appeared that many shops were closed but on the other hand many were open. The traffic was lighter than usual. Everything appeared fairly normal except for the long lines at the gas stations that we passed. That day at that hour in that location, there was very little indication the country was in the beginnings of a violent struggle for change.

Mohamed explained that he was saddened by the whole state of affairs. His first comment was that the media was all lies. “The Libyan press, Al Jazeera, CNN, the television, do not tell the truth” he vehemently exclaimed. He further expounded that the Libyan TV “shows everyone happy and waiving Khadafy flags” and the foreign press was the worse; making it appear “like the whole country was falling apart”. Mohamed further explained that there had been some violence but that in Tripoli 70 to 80 percent of the people did not want the conflict. He explained that he did not approve of Khadafy but that “the blood” served no purpose. He said that maybe 20 years ago a revolution would have been an alternative but not now as the country and life for many was improving.

He didn’t see a swift end to the conflict. He said that Libya was different than Egypt. Khadafy would not go easily. That first night of trouble in Tripoli, February 22, a police station had been set afire and another government building burnt, but he did not feel this reflected a popular revolt. Even so he was very concerned where the conflict was going. He felt that the people who started it would not be able to stop. Once they began, they would have to see it through or Khadafy would hunt them down and kill them. He reiterated that Khadafy would not back down. He predicted that neither side could stop and that most people did not want the conflict. He repeated “They don’t want the blood”.

Nearing the airport, we passed a herd of sheep attended by an old woman holding a wooden staff and wearing a yellow dress and a white veil. The bright desert sun, deep blue Mediterranean sky, red sand and palm trees stuck between block houses surrounded by piles of plastic bags and other trash was a strangely beautiful and a typical scene demonstrating much of the incongruity and growth of modern Tripoli.  The second and last check point was much more businesslike and the traffic slowed considerably. At this check point, the soldiers, still in civilian clothes and carrying automatic weapons, were searching the trunks of cars and trucks. Again when they saw that we were European or American, they waived us through the check point without any hassle.

As we approached the airport, Mohamed became very concerned. There were droves of cars pulling off to the side of the road and letting out their occupants. Mohamed said that things had changed considerably since this morning. The scene reminded me of the movie “Close Encounters” where people from all over congregated without knowing why waiting for something to happen. In this case it was very different. These people were afraid of what happen if they stayed. The hundreds of people converging on the airport were hoping for a flight that would take them to their home. Without internet and with all the phones being down, people who wanted to leave had to go to the airport to buy tickets. They had no choice, they were afraid, and they were desperate to get out of Libya.

My next entry will tell more of the early scene at the airport.

My Response to the Call for a No-Fly-Zone over Libya

My personanal opinion is that many of the people calling for a no-fly-zone do not necessarily have the best interest of the Libyans or the American public at heart. Especially some of the more conservative members of the US Congress. Below is the e-mail that I sent to the United Nations Security Council.

Dear United Nations Security Council:
Please exercise caution in calling for a no fly zone. My understanding of the no-fly-zone is that you would bomb airports and shoot down planes and helicopters. This would only lead to more people dying and doesn't exactly foster any sort of good will. Pilots and people at airstrips have families.

I lived in Liybia and was recently evacuated. From what I understand most Libyans don't want or like the present violence. Your actions would only lead to more chaos and more loss of life.

Use your good sense before initiating any sort of military action. Most of the people calling for the no fly zone either have their own self interest or are reacting to an over-sensationalization of a very sad situation.
Sincerely,
Michael E. Baldwin

Safe ın Turkey

After a harrowıng tıme ın the Trıpolı aırport, we made ıt to Rome. From Rome we traveled to Istanbul, from Istanbul to Cappadoccıa. I am carefully documentıng our exodus from Trıpolı. I wıll be postıng ıt as soon as I am ın a more stable locatıon.  For some reason, I was not able to post on the blog from our hotel. We should be ın the UK around the 10th of March.

February 22, 2011

Camped out on the floor last night. We had a big slumber party with popcorn and hotdogs! We had no TV so not really sure what is going on. Of course when your here you realize how much the media likes to blow things out of proportion. Things are definitely going on. The first night we heard some gunshots but we also some fireworks from the roof . So again, hard to figure out what exactly is happening. Reports were that the streets were very quiet yesterday with most businesses being closed. The airport was said to be full of people trying to leave the country.

Living here does provide some perspective but on the otherhand rumors are rampant. Someone tells about a building that has been burnt. Someone else tells about roving groups of thugs burning cars. What is actually true and what is really going on is hard to say. We took very little from the house when we left, so we are concerned about our belongings and what we might need later. We are not going anywhere as of yet. When we do we are nervous about being on the road. Where we are is very quiet. When we left our homes, it was early morning and little traffic as one would expect at that hour. At one intersection there were soldiers but they were directing traffic. They obviously were trying to keep order and as usual were very polite as usual. Another group of friends was detained for about 15 minutes by armed soldiers but were released shortly and quickly arrived.

What is true is that most Libyans are very polite and law abiding. Considering what is happening here and the fact that we are leaving our homes with most of our stuff would probably be much more of a problem in other countries. On the other hand there is a huge population of immigrants from other African countries. If some sort of order is not established soon and food gets short, I could foresee some serious problems.


Libya has been very safe. We were able to go shopping when ever we wished. And even though I don't speak Arabic, people were always very helpful. We have so many friends and people that we have met. This is a strong Muslim country and that takes some getting used. Woman and men practically lead separate lives. I have never been invited to a Libyan house and I understand that if I did, I probably would not meet or even see the wife. On the other hand, Katyann's dentist is Libyan and she is very cordial. Her husband is my dentist. They are both friendly and interesting to talk with.

Our cleaning staff is from Ghana and they are very concerned with government or local negative repercushions against immigrants as the story unfolds here. There are probably as many foreign workers here from other Southern countries as there are Libyans. Most are poor and do menial jobs. Many are unemployed looking for work. There are many locations in Tripoli where you can see hundreds of people just waiting for some one to come with a truck looking for workers. These people sometimes have their own tools. Mostly, they just have their hands. There are rumors that these immigrants are somehow responsible for the present problems.  

It has been raining all night and is raining today. It is also cold and would be a horrible day to protest. I am hoping that things are quiet. I hope that people have a chance to consider the situation and that peaceful solutions are discovered. As we prepare to leave the country we are hoping for a swift return to our school. And that the many friends we are leaving here remain safe and that changes are good and occur with minimum turmoil.

Leaving Good Friends and Hope for a Speedy Return

We really love it here and are sad to be leaving. We have met such great people and our staff here is wonderful. If things work out we will be arriving at a new destination tomorrow. This is a beautiful place to be.

Whose that in the Window?

Amidst the craziness, I spotted this truck and had to take a picture yesterday. May be awhile before I see a truck like this.

February 21, 2011

At a quarter three o’clock in the morning I received a call from Judith, pack a bag and get ready to stay at the school. Cell phones evidently were out most of the night and our director had not been able to contact us. As soon as the phones went on she called us. She didn’t wake me up. I hadn’t been able to sleep. I don’t know if was excitement or the allergy medicine I had taken earlier. I lay awake in bed most of the night. We had a meeting at the elementary Principal’s house earlier that day. She assured us everything looked fine and that we would be having class the next day. She urged us to remember that it would be pajama day and to dress appropriately.

Just as no one expected things to escalate in Tunis, we are also very surprised by the events taking place last night in Tripoli. Earlier this month, I had talked with a booking agent and had made plans to go to Morocco and then to Tunis for our April Spring break. Then Tunis fell apart and we cancelled our vacation. Instead we planned to visit Egypt. Well, Egypt erupted in civil turmoil and that trip was cancelled. Well now for Presidents day weekend we decided to stay in Tripoli. Protests in Bengasi and people being shot. What is next? Now everyone asks us where we are going on vacation so they can plan to stay somewhere else.

Tripoli seemed to be making so much progress. Yes the president is very unpredictable, but Tripoli has lots of oil money and the infrastructure has been improving. Everyone tells me how much better things have gotten in the last few years. Nevertheless, some Libyans evidently have not been happy. The surprising thing is that these protests continue to grow even after the deaths; People shot and beat and yet they return to protest- Most not even armed; Putting themselves and their families at risk. Something amazing is happening in Africa and the Middle East. It is frightening yet exhilarating.

At three o’clock the phone rang again. Our director was not able to get the neighbors on the phone. She asked if I could go and tell them to pack a bag. As I returned I looked at the full moon. It was circled by a huge white ring; surely a sign - A sign of what I will have to wait and see.
We pack in a hurry. Even though I had put together a small suitcase the day before, the real thing has me reevaluating what I packed. Do I need to bring more? Between packing, I go to the computer and record my thoughts.  As we prepare to evacuate you may wonder: Am I worried? No just excited and a little concerned. I am hardly ever worried, just concerned. My cousin once told me he had never been lost, just confused for a few days or so…  So I guess I’m not worried, just concerned... I told Bruce, my friend, yesterday, that I am so glad to be here. In a place where history is being made. To experience first had the excitement of a new thing, something different. I ask myself, with my family here, my six year old daughter, my worried wife, am I still glad to be here. The answer is still yes; but I am reevaluating every minute…
I am sure most revolutions must evolve similarly, everyone asking is this really happening.? Will it continue? Is it as serious as it seems? Is it more serious than it seems?

We may be evacuated. If the school closes we only receive three months salary. That has me concerned. We could go through our savings quickly not doing anything, stuck in an expensive location. Hopefully we will just take our spring vacation early and be back to work soon. I am sure we will have even smaller classes when we return. Many of these companies probably won’t risk bringing families back if they think they may have to evacuate again. All this is just speculation as we prepare our suitcases and prepare for another day of teaching in Tripoli.
From yesterday's casual meeting at the Principal’s home where we were told everything is fine until this morning. One call at 2:45, another at 3:00 telling us to pack just in case and be ready to stay at the school to another call at 4:00 pm telling us to caravan to work and to be there at 7:30 for a meeting. Seems things may be heating up?

the internet is down for most of Tripoli and the country but we are able to connect from a few locations. I am fine and so is my family. Things are relatively calm here. We have stocked up on food, bought extra water, and filled the car with gas. We also have bags packed and passports ready if we have to evacuate. Having said this, we are having school tomorrow and have no plans to evacuate in the near future.

Many of our students have left. One thing that I will be doing in the next few days is making a plan if we do evacuate so that I can continue teaching via on line. Online classes would allow my students to continue even though they are not in country.

Peace and Prosperity

In this region of the world there has been quite a bit of press lately. Here every country has its own challenges. The hope is that world will get better and everyone will prosper. So far things have been calm.

Paradise Beach, Libya

Although the beaches are beautiful there often are very few people at the beach.  Libyan culture is conservative as to what is proper beach attire so visitors should be aware if the beach is designated for western bathing or local family bathing. Paradise beach is located close to Leptis Magna.

Case of Missing Slantfaced Grasshopper

This grasshopper looked to me like a katydid, but probably falls into the group of slantfaced grasshoppers (Subfamily Gomphocerinae) probably also in the Mermiria Group of Toothpick Grasshoppers

Sabratha Roman Ruins

Almost 2000 years old, the Sabratha Roman Ruins have endured. As impressive as the architecture is, hold a fresh piece of polished marble in your hands and then go exam these ruins.. An interesting project would be to imagine what the stone work looked like when it was new and freshly polished. How much of the stone has been lost erosion?

Libya, Nearing Tripoli

Arriving for the first time in North Africa, even the color of the ground was different than anything I had ever seen before. Desert Agriculture, even along the mediterranean is unique.  I was fascinated and attracted to the red sand and olive vegetation.

Another view of Saharan silver ant (Cataglyphis bombycina)

Saharan silver ant (Cataglyphis bombycina)

The Saharan silver ant (Cataglyphis bombycina) was photographed in the desert South of Sebha in Libya. Besides its unique coloration these ants have many special adaptations for living in the desert. Before venturing out of their tunnels, they produce a protein that allows them to metabolize at high temperatures, they have longer legs to keep them off the sand, and are very good at minimizing their foraging time by finding the most direct line back to their nest.

Oasis in the Desert

Ancient riverbeds eroded pockets, channels and depressions in the bedrock. After years of erosion and wind, these depressions are covered with sand. The ocassional precipitation in the Sahara filters throught the sand and pools in these ancient depressions. The water picks up minerals as it filters through the sand and these minerals are consentrated by further evaporation. Sometimes the sand is blown away to a level where water is exposed. Often these lakes are saltier than the sea.

A photograph of a milkweed butterfly from the family Danainae. The larva looks a lot like the queen butterflies of south Texas. There are about 400 species worldwide with only 4 found in the US.