Hail the Libyans!

Somewhat less than two weeks in Lith haven’t been enough to make me return completely refreshed. Obviously it was great to be with A. and the children again, we had all missed each other a lot. R. is going very fast now, talking, mischievous. T. was difficult to handle, sweet but won’t listen and has to be put right quite harshly at times. M. doing OK. He may not be changing physically right now, but last night when we went out together for a walk I was amazed how he is maturing at the age of 7. M. and T. are looking forward to going to school on Monday, but start missing Africa too, or at least that is what they say.

We decided I would come back for one week in three weeks in September, and not wait until October. I am a bit worried about the amount of domestic work A. has to handle on her own, even though she is the last to complain and, as I said earlier, seems to be happy to be on her own. But leaving her on her own with four children as of January for M. and T. to finish the school year in Holland doesn’t seem to be such a good idea to me anymore. We’ll see.

The roots issue, or the question where we will settle down eventually, remains. We like our two-bedroom holiday cabin in Lith, but a real place for the next decades and possibly to retire with A. eventually (there, I said it: the R-word!) remains on our minds. Last Thursday A. and the children had gone to Amsterdam to the circus and I went with Peter, my friend in Oss, for a meal and a chat to Megen, a lovely old village not far from Lith. Got very excited when I saw a beautiful 3-bedroom house for sale, new but built in old style, located at pittoresque square, with a lovely view over the polders. A. talked sense into me in the evening. Moving house during a pregnancy is not her idea of a good time. Plus she wants a place big enough to host several generations in the future. Fair enough.

I did study in Holland (in libraries in Amsterdam and Oss), but not nearly as much as I should have. I remained tired throughout my time in Lith, and didn’t feel much like studying anyway. Slightly disappointed this time with the course, Public Finance Management, which is much less applicable in a development situation,or at least on my host country, than the previous one.

Tripoli on the way up to Europe wasn’t a big deal, as I only got to see the airport. The way back has been quite different though. The major disruptions which I expected due to the foiled UK plot did not affect the Libyan air company I was flying with (perhaps the fact that they used to be in the plane bombing business themselves made them less nervous? Sorry, couldn’t let this one go…) I enjoyed my 24-hours stop-over in Tripoli, even though struck by some kind of flu. I went for a walk Saturday night in the old part of town, and then to the beach front the next morning. Some impressions: big brother Khaddafi everywhere on walls and TV; almost no commercial advertisement; Hezbollah lader Nasrallah on television; clean streets; people more or less friendly, with none of the ‘hello my friend’ harassment of other Arab countries; well stocked shops, or at least where I went; lovely sweet tea with fresh mint; the sweet smell of hookahs (waterpipes) everywhere. The most impressive thing came at the end, Sunday afternoon. My hotel accepted only cash payment, and ATMs refused my credit cards. I needed another 50 euros or so to cover hotel bill and taxi ride to the airport. At just 2,5 hours before departure, and with the airport still 35 kilometers away, I was in a very difficult situation. The taxi driver, Abdurrauf, then spontaneously offered me to advance me the missing money for the hotel bill, and take me to the airport, all without even being sure my credit cards would be accepted at the airport. Of course they didn’t, and I, deeply embarassed, offered him the choice between taking some newly bought clothes or other items from my luggage, or to double the amount I owed him which I would then send to him. Without knowing me, he chose the latter. It got even more incredible when a bank manager turned up, offered to pay the driver from his own pocket and I could then send the money to him through Western Union. Apart from immensely grateful, I felt quite ashamed as well: on Saturday I had viewed the taxi driver, who had approached me at the airport, with suspicion, and now he and the bank manager were bailing me out from an impossible situation.

Even though I came back with fairly low morale, it was nice to resume work at the office this Monday morning. In spite of the inevitable frictions, we do have a pleasant team at the office. No friendships for life as far as I am concerned, but lots of good laughs, and all with a willingness to work. This being said, the boss remains his old dominant self, and I can see my role will remain under pressure. I will inevitably have to put my foot down once again before long. But that seems to become part of the routine. As long as frictions continue to be handled in a relatively good humoured way by all, I guess it remains manageable.