Libya On The Couch

She was once young, beautiful and talk of Mediterranean and Middle Eastern promise. But after four decades of enduring abuse, Libya has become ugly, unhappy and miserable old woman. She can’t even recognise herself in the mirror and is unable, try as she might, to recall any happy memories. 

Under her dangerous captor, he broke her down and now she cannot deal with the simple day-to-day tasks. When she compares herself to others, she is deeply jealous and resentful, as they have built proud kingdoms and taken care of their children and lands. With fear, trepidation and her heart pounding in her chest, she’s decided to speak her peace before looming death and confide her regrets.

In therapy, honesty and disclosure are musts and one need not hold back. She is ready to revisit the terrible memories and go far back. As she sits on the client couch uncomfortable and nervous, the figure behind the desk has his pen ready to write it all down. He starts: “What brings you here today Libya?”

Not sure where to begin, Libya sighs and puts a hand over her face and mouth. She says: “It is a horrible story and I am ashamed. I’ve been feeling down and struggling for years. I always cry without reason and I shout in my head. It is my children that I’m most concerned about.

“Even with the will, energy and drive to live honestly, but they have been brainwashed and led to corruption, deception and lies to get ahead. I am, as you know, ill with terminal cancer; and, I’ve had to sell my jeweller and all my possessions to pay for treatment abroad in a last ditch attem;pt to repair the damage of the past. Who would have thought I would have no choice but to beg for strangers’ help?

“It is the small things also that embarrass me and I’ve yet to admit it, I’ve been complicit by my silence as the default mode. I have neglected myself and abandoned my health. My beautiful terrain should not have taken the brunt of the assaults. My beaches, my mountains and my oasis surrounded by desert land! Of course, those informed and wise know and intuit the truth of my story and feel sad for me. I find this tough to accept.

“As a mother, I am well aware of all the bad stuff that has been going on. Some of it is my fault, but most of it is not. I admit to a number of my own flesh and blood have been seduced by evil and identified with the jailor from the start.

“He gives them money, cars and houses so they do his bidding, no matter the cruelty of his requests. How they came to be mine and groomed to worship and idolise him I don’t know. I must take into account if I’m to ever to get closure and make sense.

“I don’t like to say it, but yes, I have been the victim of both mental and physical abuse, and that it became normal so I kept quiet. I found ways to deny and pretend nothing was wrong; and, forced as I was, I did things. I was forced to see events nobody should ever have to see or to witness.”

Analyst: “Okay, Libya, if it helps, how far back can you recall?”

“I guess the mistreatment began in 1976. He hung and executed anyone who dared to protest and voice dissent. The same would happen on the anniversary for years to remind us the certain fate if we didn’t accept his power and ability to kill us too.

“Fear! We were so scared and captive in our own land and homes. We could not even pray at the mosques as the dawn raids were the worst for many of us. At school, also, the young were beaten and their curious minds shut. What followed, in the 1980s, well. Am sure you’ve heard of the ‘stray dogs’ assassination campaign? Even abroad, his tentacles reached very far.

“Paranoia! God, I suspected everyone an informant, even my relatives and neighbours. I checked my every word and filtered everything I said, so as not to make complaint and or forbid I say something about the ideological stance of the government. I couldn’t swear, except in my frustrated nightmares, as I would wake up in a cold sweat.

“Not to mention the economic strife and the stupid dinars. When products arrived, we couldn’t afford but the necessities. Everyone drove miles for years for clean water, promised as we were with an artificial river! With travel, visas were impossible to get to get out. We became isolated from the rest of the world.

“How ironic that the world saw my captor as a strong and eccentric rebel who dared to challenge the international status quo. He claimed that greed and power were the enemy. Hmm, he is still telling these lies, when he has been hoarding the oil riches in private investment accounts. For what? Sick, perverse and terror ends. He thought there was a price tag on everybody’s head.”

But then, with a gulp, she says: “But maybe this time is different. Maybe today, for those of us who truly love our country and have our roots on its soil, something might shift. We can no longer refuse to forget or let things go.

“We have nowhere else to stay and we don’t want anywhere else. The death of many loved ones has been the heavy price to pay, but what has gone on for too long must end. He’s turned us against each other and shooting to kill the armed and the unarmed. For no other goal but to keep onto a power seat made useless and ineffective by himself.

“What has he ever done for the Libyans? Nothing! Go and see for yourself. Go and visit the hospitals, the schools, the infrastructure that are not fit for any purpose. Go and see the filth and the garage that never gets collected. Go see the polluted sea and the dirty beaches. All that potential gone to waste.

“With this revolution, at least I can scream and shout and open up to talk to tell my tale. But most importantly, I need to heal my broken heart. The world is close enough to hear my cries and I must run with this chance to turn the tables and claim my captor’s monstrous head!”

Analyst: “Libya, am afraid your minutes are up. Should we pencil in next week same time?”

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