THE GUARDIAN: Gaddafi's Libya ran on farce mingled with fear, recalls the BBC reporter he nearly ran down in a small, battered PeugeotI feel obliged to dip into books which have been given to me as a present. "In need freedom is latent . . ." Late at night in Tripoli in 1984 I found Colonel Gaddafi's Green Book hard going. He'd signed the book that morning, in revolutionary green ink of course, a curious V-shape, as if an inky fly had slid down the page and staggered back up. He'd also given me a Qur'an and wished me Happy Christmas.
Nothing was ever straightforward dealing with Gaddafi.
There was little to do in revolutionary Libya in the evenings. Television was dreary, full of the Leader's speeches and only occasionally enlivened by pirated foreign programmes, including the nation's favourite: Monty Python's Flying Circus. Libyans watched it, not laughing but nodding. They said: "That's our country they're showing." It was an oil-rich country with broken pavements and an atmosphere that discouraged taking a walk in the dark. No obvious threat, no armed men prowling the street, just hotel employees and anonymous regime officials twitching with an unexpressed fear that "things might happen . . ." So I read on: "No democracy without popular congresses, and committees everywhere."
In frequent visits since, I've noticed that the Colonel's slogans plastered on the walls of public buildings have faded somewhat, but he still looms large, even when cornered. And when the possibility of freedom emerged in the city of Benghazi a few days ago, a bright-eyed young man was shouting joyfully, "We're forming a committee." This is the new Libya, which needs a government – and old habits die hard. >>> Kate Adie | Wednesday, March 02, 2011
