lo yeeOn
2015-12-06 06:56:08 UTC
Mourning the death of the 'messiah of Africa'
http://www.bbc.com/news/magazine-35005828
When Muammar Gaddafi was toppled in 2011, there were scenes of
jubilation in Libya. But Jake Wallis Simons didn't have to go far in
Ghana to find those who have fond memories of the executed Libyan
leader, and are still mourning his loss.
One recent Sunday afternoon, amid the yellow dust, sunshine and
traffic fumes of Accra, I met a man who told me that Colonel Gaddafi
was the messiah.
The man's name was Karim Mohamed, an ebullient 45-year-old tailor who
had spent three years living and working in Libya before the fall of
Gaddafi.
He was married with three children, and lived in a six-bedroom house
that he had built himself using the money he had earned in Libya.
"In Libya, everybody was happy," he told me. "In America, there are
people sleeping under bridges. In Libya, never. There was no
discrimination, no problems, nothing. The work was good and so was the
money. My life is all thanks to Gaddafi. He was the messiah of
Africa."
Karim was far from unusual in this part of Ghana. As we talked, two
other men sauntered over to join the conversation, and turned out to
share his passion for the late Libyan dictator.
"Gaddafi was a nice guy," said Mustafa Abdel Momin, a cheerful,
35-year-old construction worker who had worked in Libya for seven
years. "He never cheated anybody. He was perfect. The best."
"What was the point of killing him?" added Eliyas Yahya, the local
imam, who had a round hat, a pointed beard and a very loud voice. "You
kill someone to solve the problem and now the problem is worse. Why
kill Gaddafi?"
Gaddafi may have been a ruthless autocrat, but for years the relative
affluence and stability of his rule was a godsend to migrants
desperate for work. My new friends were among the tens of thousands of
Africans who had used money earned in Libya to break themselves from
the cycle of poverty at home.
As we talked in the shade of a small grocery shop, the evidence was
all around us. This was a district in the north of the city known
locally as the Libyan Quarter, home to a community of Ghanaians who
had made their money under the Gaddafi regime.
The ramshackle houses that characterise many parts of Accra were
nowhere to be seen here. Instead there were modern, spacious
residences lining the orange dirt road, stretching into the distance.
Karim pointed out what I had thought was a municipal building on the
corner. As it turned out, it was actually a mansion belonging to a man
called Sheikh Swala, who had started several successful businesses
using money he had earned in Libya. The house had 30 bedrooms. And
without Gaddafi, it would never have been built.
Indeed, new construction was now a rarity in this neighbourhood. Here
and there, some houses were even lying unfinished - when Gaddafi was
deposed, the Libyan Quarter became frozen in time.
A diffident, 36-year-old man called Amadu joined our group. Nobody
noticed him at first, as he seemed so withdrawn. But eventually, he
told his story.
Amadu had been among those unable to afford a proper Libyan visa. In
2010, he and several friends made the dangerous journey there
overland, through the Sahara desert. They ran out of water and many of
his group died, but he made it to Libya and found work as a tiler.
By the time war broke out in 2011, he had saved $3,500 (2,300). He
remembers standing on the docks in Tripoli when the first shots were
fired, forcing him to run for cover. He was confined to his room for
several days before he managed to escape back to Ghana, but he was
unable to bring his hard-earned money with him. And that was how his
dreams had died.
"There is nothing for the youth here in Ghana," said Mustafa. "After
Gaddafi, we are full of crisis. Youth unemployment is sky-high and
there is nothing for us to do. Either we end up living a life of crime
because it is the only way to make money, or we try and make it to
Europe."
The others agreed. "Now it is Europe, Europe, Europe, wherever on
earth you go," said Eliyas loudly. "Some people are going to Brazil,
if they can afford it. But for everyone else, it's Europe."
Before Gaddafi was ousted, he officially warned the European Union
that if his regime were to collapse, as many as two million migrants
would arrive on Europe's shores, creating chaos.
He may have been more a dictator than a messiah. But he seems to have
been right about that.
http://www.bbc.com/news/magazine-35005828
When Muammar Gaddafi was toppled in 2011, there were scenes of
jubilation in Libya. But Jake Wallis Simons didn't have to go far in
Ghana to find those who have fond memories of the executed Libyan
leader, and are still mourning his loss.
One recent Sunday afternoon, amid the yellow dust, sunshine and
traffic fumes of Accra, I met a man who told me that Colonel Gaddafi
was the messiah.
The man's name was Karim Mohamed, an ebullient 45-year-old tailor who
had spent three years living and working in Libya before the fall of
Gaddafi.
He was married with three children, and lived in a six-bedroom house
that he had built himself using the money he had earned in Libya.
"In Libya, everybody was happy," he told me. "In America, there are
people sleeping under bridges. In Libya, never. There was no
discrimination, no problems, nothing. The work was good and so was the
money. My life is all thanks to Gaddafi. He was the messiah of
Africa."
Karim was far from unusual in this part of Ghana. As we talked, two
other men sauntered over to join the conversation, and turned out to
share his passion for the late Libyan dictator.
"Gaddafi was a nice guy," said Mustafa Abdel Momin, a cheerful,
35-year-old construction worker who had worked in Libya for seven
years. "He never cheated anybody. He was perfect. The best."
"What was the point of killing him?" added Eliyas Yahya, the local
imam, who had a round hat, a pointed beard and a very loud voice. "You
kill someone to solve the problem and now the problem is worse. Why
kill Gaddafi?"
Gaddafi may have been a ruthless autocrat, but for years the relative
affluence and stability of his rule was a godsend to migrants
desperate for work. My new friends were among the tens of thousands of
Africans who had used money earned in Libya to break themselves from
the cycle of poverty at home.
As we talked in the shade of a small grocery shop, the evidence was
all around us. This was a district in the north of the city known
locally as the Libyan Quarter, home to a community of Ghanaians who
had made their money under the Gaddafi regime.
The ramshackle houses that characterise many parts of Accra were
nowhere to be seen here. Instead there were modern, spacious
residences lining the orange dirt road, stretching into the distance.
Karim pointed out what I had thought was a municipal building on the
corner. As it turned out, it was actually a mansion belonging to a man
called Sheikh Swala, who had started several successful businesses
using money he had earned in Libya. The house had 30 bedrooms. And
without Gaddafi, it would never have been built.
Indeed, new construction was now a rarity in this neighbourhood. Here
and there, some houses were even lying unfinished - when Gaddafi was
deposed, the Libyan Quarter became frozen in time.
A diffident, 36-year-old man called Amadu joined our group. Nobody
noticed him at first, as he seemed so withdrawn. But eventually, he
told his story.
Amadu had been among those unable to afford a proper Libyan visa. In
2010, he and several friends made the dangerous journey there
overland, through the Sahara desert. They ran out of water and many of
his group died, but he made it to Libya and found work as a tiler.
By the time war broke out in 2011, he had saved $3,500 (2,300). He
remembers standing on the docks in Tripoli when the first shots were
fired, forcing him to run for cover. He was confined to his room for
several days before he managed to escape back to Ghana, but he was
unable to bring his hard-earned money with him. And that was how his
dreams had died.
"There is nothing for the youth here in Ghana," said Mustafa. "After
Gaddafi, we are full of crisis. Youth unemployment is sky-high and
there is nothing for us to do. Either we end up living a life of crime
because it is the only way to make money, or we try and make it to
Europe."
The others agreed. "Now it is Europe, Europe, Europe, wherever on
earth you go," said Eliyas loudly. "Some people are going to Brazil,
if they can afford it. But for everyone else, it's Europe."
Before Gaddafi was ousted, he officially warned the European Union
that if his regime were to collapse, as many as two million migrants
would arrive on Europe's shores, creating chaos.
He may have been more a dictator than a messiah. But he seems to have
been right about that.