The Caves, Poets and Muted Rebels of Zintan

I read with interest recently that Muammar Gaddafi was to evoke the spirit of Omar Mukhtar to crush the rebels in the face of Libya’s uprising. 

Take refuge

I say interested because anyone who knows the story of the tribal leader who led the resistance against the Italian colonization of Libya would probably see Omar Mukhtar as better suited to represent the other side. I refer to the university graduates and the young unemployed fighting for an opportunity against a family who not only cream the top off oil earnings but drink the whole barrel.  In short, Omar Mukhtar, a teacher by profession, was a rebel.


When I was in Benghazi last year I spoke at length with a family who were proud to be considered rebels, talking animatedly about there disdain for how their country was run and with an impressive level of English, explained how rebels were once able to hide successfully in the nearby Green Mountains away from a vengeful Gaddafi back in the day were relations were stretched between the two biggest cities in Libya.


Fast forward to March 2011 and the people of Zintan have recently returned to their small mountainous town after retreating to nearby caves whilst Gaddafi’s men shelled the area.  Zintan sits on a mountain range at about 1200 metres, dry, windy but not unprotected.  The locals are said to have a way with words, quick witted and talented poets but unlike their countrymen 1000 kilometres away in Benghazi they are much tighter lipped when quizzed on leadership opinions.

The Mountainous Dwellings of Zintan

Early last year I was invited to this infamous town, about a two hour drive south of Tripoli.  Libyan’s quite often carry the nickname of the town they're from, in this case the invite was from Mohammed Zintani, a student who lived up to the reputation of providing amusement in quick delivery.  


The drive south to the mountains was an edgy one, our mutual friend and designated driver, Mohammed Zigzag, was not to be denied in the 'living up to ones name' stakes, slaloming between huge rumbling vehicles and using lanes not entirely clear to the untrained eye.  Judging by the catatonic front seat passenger I wasn't alone in thinking we were all going to die... someone then let out a yelp from my left, the disembodied voice was that of Nathan, a teaching college experiencing his first Libyan excursion from behind a pillow.  We at least had an Omar Mukhtar bumper sticker protecting the rear.

Mohammed, Zigzag by name, Zigzag by nature

On arriving we were shown our eating, living and bathing quarters, a drafty room, lined with Arabic sofas and a pile of blankets, for bathing a buried memory.  Life in the mountains of Zintan could fairly be described as rustic.

That said, the hospitality was second to none.

A huge serving of food quickly arrived, as per the local tradition, served by the doleful youngest brother, via the kitchen of the unseen mother.  We sat around a sizable terracotta bowl filled with couscous and lamb, the Mohammeds keen to show off their English skills with a fresh audience.  The crowning glory of the meal wasn't the casual nod and flick of the last piece of lamb over to my side of the bowl from host to guest but it was being asked if the meal had been 'top notch'.  It's a proud moment to have a throw away comment in class scribbled down and used against you at a later date.

Revenge came in the form of Arabic lessons, from all quarters, everyone had their opinion but few had the concept of turn taking.  A guttural volley of slang words left me with at least 10 variants on how to describe a complete mess, whether applied to the cross-pollinated socialist / nationalist political philosophy employed by the leader or a lack of classroom manners by rotund jolly-faced police officers.  When you see the state of the roads you realise you do indeed need all 10 of them.

The Caves of Zintan

We headed out to the caves, the very caves recently occupied by local people in fear of their lives, not in the face of reckless driving but military attacks by their own government.  Many of the caves are set high up beside the winding mountain roads, from here Libyans ambushed passing Italian forces during occupation, it was an Omar Mukhtar inspired move, teacher first, desert warfare strategist second.  The vantage point that was once used for attack temporarily became a place to seek refuge.

My reasons for being there were, thankfully, very different.  The Mohammeds provided entertainment in the form of a Bob Marley duet, 'Buffalo Soldier' as I'd never quite heard it before, a brief lesson in Zintan poetry and an extensive tour of the caves.  

Mohammed and I

Now the situation, much like the traffic between Tripoli and Zintan, seems to be rumbling on, 'Western' interference is some what of an ersatz controversy in the eyes of the rebels, outsiders are more suspicious.

Where is the line between defending innocent people to fully assisting a rebellion?  To offer an opinion either way would be to draw a very long bow.

On the journey home, Mohammed Zigzag treated us to a final finale, accelerating between two cars before slamming on the breaks as the traffic lights turned red.  That was the last time I ever got in a car with him, he was certainly a rebel... but Omar Mukhtar would never have approved.

The multi-purpose terrain of Zintan