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!
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