Night we were freed

A Maltese woman who has been living in Libya for 36 years and her family relive the joyous moment when rebels marched into Tripoli. Kurt Sansone reports.

Tereza Abdulhadi’s eyes well up in tears as she recalls that night in August when Tripoli fell to Libyan rebel fighters who advanced unopposed into the capital.

They are tears of joy rekindled by the emotions that flowed on August 21 when Tripoli residents could finally smell the air of freedom that had blown across other parts of Libya.

Tereza, 63, is married to Azzdin Abdulhadi, 66, and they have three children.

On Monday, the family was present for a reception attended by Prime Minister Lawrence Gonzi during his one-day visit to Libya.

“We had been hearing for days that the rebel fighters were coming and on Sunday night we heard chants of Allahu Akbar (God is greatest) coming from the mosques,” Tereza says, lowering her voice to mimic the sense of bewilderment that preceded the final crescendo.

She says residents could not understand what was happening and went out of their houses. The neighbourhoods were in complete darkness as electricity had been switched off.

Barricades that used to be manned by Gaddafi loyalists were no longer visible and, all of a sudden, she says, word spread that the rebels had entered Tripoli.

They were moments of great emotion as people poured out onto the streets in celebration to greet the rebels.

“We cried with joy,” Tereza says as her voice cracks under the emotion.

The rebels had descended on the city from the west, the east and by sea from Misurata in what marked the beginning of the Gaddafi regime’s last days.

Information was sparse, Tereza recalls, with sporadic news reaching them through Al Jazeera when the reception was good.

Although Tripoli was spared the worst of the fighting, the months before its liberation were terrible for its residents. It also brought out their resourcefulness.

Azzdin recalls how he had hooked up a light bulb with a car battery for the family to be able to eat properly in the evening when he broke his fast.

“It was Ramadan and my family and I used to eat at night and I had to invent something to have light because there was no electricity,” he explains.

The neighbourhood was hit by continuous power cuts and it used to be a race to fill the roof tanks with water from the well when electricity returned.

“We used to switch on the pump to fill the tanks and sometimes we also supplied water to our neighbours,” Azzdin says.

He stops to reflect on the past eight months and shakes his head from side to side. “Muammar Gaddafi was a cruel man.”

Azzdin says people lived in fear for 42 years not knowing what could happen to their children when they went to school or whether their businesses would be taken away from them.

The chant “Allah, Gaddafi u Libya biss” (God, Gaddafi and Libya only) sung by Gaddafi loyalists, Azzdin says, reflects the way the dictator behaved.

“Gaddafi came immediately after God. How could this be? But he thought nobody could get him or stop him.”

In the new Libya, where people are still jubilant about their new-found freedom, big question marks still linger as to how the country will move ahead in the months to come.

Tereza and Azzdin’s daughter, Tiziana Laganà, reflects these concerns.

“I believe a better future awaits us but the situation is shaky at the moment. There is lack of work and the government is not yet stable. People fear handing over their arms,” she says.

Tiziana, 27, is married to Wasam Alusta, 34, and had been living in Libya for seven years before returning to Malta during the conflict.

Wasam is without a job but when his wife points this out Tereza interjects with words of encouragement.

“Before we had jobs but we went months without being paid; Wasam will find a job,” Tereza says.

She is optimistic that Libya has changed for the better and there will be no turning back.

Tereza recalls the day many years ago when she had to go to hospital for treatment after having a miscarriage and was placed in the same bed with another patient.

“My feet were in her face and the toilets were a simple bucket but Gaddafi did not care,” she says.

It is the difficult past that emboldens Tereza and gives her hope for the future. She displays the same fervour as those youngsters who the evening before were playing table soccer in Martyrs’ Square, the former Green Square, and site of many pro-Gaddafi rallies.

Tripoli is bedecked in the colours of the revolution with every shop front, tree and wall emblazoning the new red, black and green flag. The merchandise hailing the “free Libya” includes tissue boxes and bottled water.

“I know what we passed through so I believe we have a better future because having gotten rid of him is already enough,” Tereza says.

ksansone@timesofmalta.com