Part of the Revolution in the Arabic World

Abstract

February 2011
The moon waxed full, perfect-round. A pale fine, sand found its way all around the city and blew along the footpath in gusts, contaminating the air I breathed.

A friend accompanied me as we headed towards the Medina of Tripoli, keeping on the furtherest side of the bitumen to avoid the traffic which was growing wilder by the minute. Young men waving green flags, half postulated out of car windows - sometime hollering from their unconventional seats on car rooves and bonnets.They were shouting their support of the Leader.

We had gone to explore the Medina - even perhaps find a coffee to warm us from the twelve degree winds that blast-freezed through long trouser and shirt alike - and fix a broken DVD player I had acquired from a colleague for the meagre sum of forty dinars. One might ask why we would take such a trek for the sake of DVD players and coffee? Well, what with a good salary from my teaching job, spending money on coffee, pirated DVDs, food and clothes were among the only things that could occupy your social time. The only other things to keep you sane was to meet with your friends, go to the gym or bang your head against the cracked walls of your apartment while stamping your feet in tune to the rustic cords of San Quentin.