When the day of rage became the day of hope

As the Egyptians were gathering in Tahrir Square fighting for their own democracy, Ahmed Sanalla logged onto Facebook and found a page calling on Libyans to take to the streets on 17 February.

This would turn out to be Libya’s own ‘Day of Rage’.

An idea sprang into Sanalla’s mind: that Egypt’s president Hosni Mubarak had not fired on the protesters because of the presence of journalists. But Libya’s story was different. Journalists had long been shut out of Libya, so with the help of his brother who was living in the UK, they set up a Twitter account in a bid to attract the major news agencies’ attention.

Their plan worked. Sanalla’s brother posted his number on the agencies’ websites so they could phone up Sanalla. In return, Sanalla would give a detailed description of what he hears, sees and experiences in Benghazi, all the while waiting for journalists to go and see for themselves. Then, they did so.

In Malta, Libyan nationals residing on the island would receive phone calls and emails from their relatives explaining that the day they had all been waiting 42 years for was edging closer.

Frustrated that they could do nothing but hope that their relatives were safe, Libyans in Malta would protest outside the embassy in Attard, the Libyan school at Ta’ Giorni or at the Mosque in Fgura. They would chant “Free Libya” and “Gaddafi must go”.

Amongst the revolutionaries, Gaddafi is the man who for years oppressed and killed those who dared not follow his rules. But today, the Libyan revolutionaries were ready to give up their own lives to free their beloved country. They saw their relatives as martyrs fighting in Benghazi, Misurata and Tripoli, amongst other cities.

I first met Jamal Algazali – a Libyan national living in Malta – during the first big protest outside the Libyan embassy in Attard back in February.

That day, over 260 Libyans had gathered in front of the embassy waving flags and holding placards. They were demanding that the green flag – symbolic of Gaddafi’s ‘Green Revolution’ – be removed and replaced with their own tri-colour.

They had also called on the Libyan ambassador to Malta, Saddun Suayeh, to resign.

I meet again Algazali three nights ago when, on the night between Sunday 21 and Monday 22 August the news emerged that two of Gaddafi’s sons had been arrested, and that the rebels had acquired control of Tripoli.

This time, there was no fury or anger in the Libyan national’s eyes. There was the strong air of hope, the feeling that freedom was knocking on their door. They were jubilant as they saw the green flag go down from the embassy’s roof and their own ‘Revolutionary Flag’ hoisted.

Algazali had been one of those who went up on the roof.

“It’s been my wish … my fellow nationals’ wish for 42 years,” Algazali tells me the next day. “We have all been waiting for the day when that [Gaddafi’s] government leaves us living and enjoying our life in Libya.”

The flying of the flag symbolises a new dawn for the Libyans, but not only: “more importantly is that our brothers’ death was not in vain.”

Algazali, who yesterday left Malta for Tripoli, now hopes that the country is rebuilt democratically. “Libya is going to surprise all the world,” he assures me. “Now is our chance to show the world who we really are … not Gaddafi’s Libyans but the real Libyans.

“We are democratic and we take care of everyone. We are not like Gaddafi, who treats his own people like animals.”

Algazali is a married man and father of three: two boys and a girl. He left Libya when he was 19 years old and came to Malta in 1986. He said that the group he belongs to (and which he is reluctant to name) did not agree with Gaddafi and his ways. He could no longer live there: “With Gaddafi it’s either him or no one. If you do not agree with him you are sent to prison or killed. There’s no other way.”

In 1997, Algazali claims he was forced to leave Malta for Ireland as his life was in danger: “Gaddafi had sent some of his own officers looking for me in Bugibba and St Paul’s Bay to attack me.”

He only tells me that he had “something” against Gaddafi… a “political problem.”

Algazali returned to Malta in 2008 with his family, He now runs a business in both Malta and Ireland with his food shops: ‘Rayan Shop, Multinational Food’.

I ask him what he intends to do in Tripoli. He says that he will go, without his family, for at least two weeks to meet with his group.

“My group is taking care of Tripoli,” he says. “We are going to take some provisions with us.”

I ask him whether it is safe to go, but he says that unless they are physically present there, they would not know for sure what is needed. Algazali, like all Libyan nationals in Malta, has friends and relatives there. He says they are safe.

At the time we were speaking, Arabic television was showing pictures of Gaddafi and his son, Saif al-Islam: “We want to take Gaddafi to court and let the law deal with him. We are not like him. We know that as a human being he has his own rights.”

Algazali accuses Gaddafi of having created a stereotype of Libyans which is false: “He painted us as ignorant and stupid and told the world to treat us that way.”

As Maltese went in and out of his shop in San Gwann, buying food and congratulating him for the recent developments, Algazali told me he always got on well with the Maltese … but not with the police:

“Police treat us like shit,” he says. “When they know you are different, they treat you differently.”

He added that even at Malta’s airport, when he used to show his Libyan passport, officers would treat him with “disrespect”. But when he used to show his Irish passport, officers would treat him normally.