It took Maltese photojournalist Rene Rossignaud and his cousin Marc Casolani 25 hours and plenty of courage to reach the Libyan rebel stronghold city of Benghazi.
The two landed in Cairo on April 17, and started their journey towards Benghazi through Alexandria, Mutruh, Salluom, the Egyptian border and Tobruk.
Exhausted, they reached Benghazi the following day at 8.30 p.m. after commuting on three coaches, four taxis, and a rebel-owned car.
“If you’re seen in a car driven by rebels you’re dead meat. Apart from risking being shot, our driver was driving like a maniac. It was the longest seven-hour drive of my life,” Mr Rossignaud told The Sunday Times after returning to Malta.
The Maltese men were told journalists had been shot dead 10 kilometres outside Benghazi.
Although anxious about their safety, Mr Rossignaud said being Maltese put him in a somewhat privileged position. Other foreign journalists roamed the streets unguarded, while Mr Rossignaud and his cousin blended in with the rebels.
Their main means of communication was Maltese laced with basic Arabic. An enthusiastic Mr Rossignaud said they were warmly welcomed with tea, and rebels drove them around the western coast of the North African country to photograph the horror unleashed by Muammar Gaddafi’s forces.
The Maltese men were encouraged to mount platforms set up in Freedom Square, Benghazi, from where Libyan rebels would vent their frustration and randomly shoot into the sky, especially after receiving distressing news about a deceased relative or friend.
Mr Rossignaud recounted how potentially dangerous shells were falling from the sky.
“On our second day in the city, we saw an angry man approaching us, grasping two machine guns. I will never forget the look of hatred and fear. “The corpse of his dead brother, shot eight kilometres out of Adjabiya centre, was laid to rest in a coffin next to his feet. He went up on stage and started shouting and shooting into the air. We were showered with hot shells,” the freelance photographer recounted.
The National Council façade, an ex-Gaddafi regime building, has been transformed into a ‘martyrs’ wall’ in remembrance of the victims. The 150-metre-long, three-storey-high wall is covered with photos and stories of people who were allegedly murdered by the regime in the past 40 years.
“We saw truckloads of corpses coming into the city from Adjabiya, some 120km from Benghazi,” he said.
The men spent three nights in Benghazi, the second largest city in Libya, feeding on protein bars and chocolate, and sleeping to the loud bangs of continuous gunfire.
Mr Rossignaud and Mr Casolani ventured out to Ajdabiya under the watchful eye of their Libyan companions.
“The rebels seem to have full control of Adjabiya. At the frontline, however, pro-Gaddafi and anti-regime troops continuously exchange gunfire.
“It’s very chaotic. The Gaddafi regime is very powerful so when the rebels advance by a hundred metres, they’re shelled from every corner,” said Mr Rossignaud.
“Sometimes we would be wandering around empty or blown up tanks, and all of a sudden our guide would scream at us to get back in the car, especially if he saw an unfamiliar face.
“The atmosphere was very tense. We only dared venture 20 kilometres out of Adjabiya towards Misurata,” he said, adding that their guides were afraid that snipers were hiding on rooftops. He recounted how people were fleeing Misurata by boat to Benghazi or in four-wheel drive vehicles through the dangerous desert stretch to Ajdabiya.
“We met people who had been living underground feeding on supplies. Their houses had been broken into and shelled by Gaddafi forces. A lot of families with children have left Misurata, but fathers are still living in the city to protect their houses and belongings.”
Having been to Libya eight times in the past, Mr Rossignaud noticed the rebels are well organised. People are assigned in different teams to take care of supplies, migration movement and ammunition, among others. The rebels are recruiting people, training them, and then arming them.
They are well-armed with artillery tanks, while military checkpoints have been set up every 15 kilometres between the Egyptian border and Benghazi, a 900-kilometre trip.
“We were taken into camps where the rebels plan their missions. Around six people in each tent keep account of their men’s movement through radio communication,” Mr Rossignaud said.
Sub-Saharans stuck in Libya are, however, having a hard time, as many are being mistaken for Gaddafi mercenaries.
On one occasion, Mr Rossignaud and his cousin were in a car with nine others, mainly of Arabic origin, including a sub-Saharan. The car was stopped; and the African man was dragged out of the car for a very intense interrogation.
The two Maltese men learnt about the death of British photojournalist Tim Hetherington and American Pulitzer Prize-nominated war photographer Chris Hondros 15 minutes after the attack by government forces in Misurata.
“Mr Hetherington was somebody I admired. It was tough to learn about the death of an idol who was just a couple of hundred kilometres away from me, doing the same job.”