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
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