Violence and unrest were all he'd ever known in his homeland, but the frequency and severity had noticeably increased over the past twelve months. In an effort to solidify Islamic law throughout all of Libya, heavily armed radical muslim thugs routinely rolled through his hometown of Misrata on the way to Tripoli in search of Christians and Christian sympathizers. Occasionally, they would grab someone, anyone, but typically it was someone they knew would put up little resistance. They would savagely beat them, drag them to the market, then demonstrate the depth of their blood lust. Although raised in a Muslim family, Abad's disdain for violence and hatred had moved him to pray to the "God with no name", the God of peace and kindness. Unlike most of his friends, Abad wasn't remotely afraid of these disturbing incidents, but he was furious at what was becoming of his homeland. Abad was a hard-working man known for his generosity and kindness; a husband, father, and owner of a thriving fishing business. When Abad wasn't out to sea working his nets, he could be found at the dock maintaining his 45' fishing trawler.
As the situation in Misrata deteriorated, his hopes of one day living a normal life in his homeland faded. He would never speak of these thoughts with anyone, he would often lament to himself, "What good has my country and my people ever brought to this world? Nothing! We grow and spread hate and violence, that is all"? He'd heard stories of people working and living in peace in America and Western Europe, but to Abad, these stories sounded like delusional ramblings of a dehydrated old nomad. Moreover, neither he nor anyone he knew had ever seen nor felt peace, so it was too difficult for him to believe.
In the weeks following the dramatic government upheaval in Cairo, matters grew even increasingly worse in Misrata. General order eroded to the extent that decency and civility was rare. His home town began to swell with hordes of the hungry and desperate, who were seeking to escape North, across the sea, in hopes of changing the quality of their lives. Abad joined many other captains and used his own vessel to ferry pilgrims across the Mediterranean to Italy or Greece. These travelers were from all over Northern and Western Africa and converged on the docks of Misrata like ants. They would cram onto any boat headed out to sea. A number of boats capsized off the coast due to overcrowding and Abad had also heard horror stories of hardcore fundamentalist muslim passengers killing or tossing overboard all other passengers who they did not believe were adhering to the strictest of Islamic law
It was during one of Abad's Mediterranean crossings, that he encountered Alya, a woman from his own town, who he'd known about for years. She told him with tears on her cheeks of her oppression, daily misery, and her dream of finding and living in peace. She had a friend, who had discovered safety and work in Switzerland. She had written Alya to report that although it was cold, sophisticated, and rather unwelcoming in the small seaside town of Ascona, it was an incredible improvement over her last few years in Libya. Alya was headed North in hopes of finding her friend, and to also work and live in peace. Her gut-wrenching sincerity captivated Abad and he listened intently, as he felt the sparkle of hope in her words. He thought to himself on the return voyage, as the boat slowly trudged through the gentle swells of the Mediterranean, "This young woman from his very own town has thrown clothes and a blanket in a bag and is on her way towards her dream". His head swam in thoughts of how or where he might go, how long the journey would take, how much it would cost, and whether or not his wife would be willing to go.
As he tied up his fishing boat at his home dock, he was told that his wife, Nasim, had been taken by a small group of armed thugs, who were last seen dragging her by her hair towards the market. This very scenario had played out in his head many times and he immediately knew what he must do. He also knew that once he did what must be done that he would have to leave with his family forever. He stopped by his small house, grabbed his machete, his bag full of dinar, his eleven-year-old daughter, Samira, and sprinted towards the market. Along the way, he realized that regardless of what was about to happen, he did not want Samira to witness it. He stopped, knelt down and looked into her eyes, and told her to run all the way to see Captain Rahim. "Tell him that I changed my mind and that I will sell my boat to him today and at exactly the same price he offered me just last week." Samira kissed her daddy on the cheek then turned and took off back down the road. Abad was not prone to violence, however, he was quickly provoked to action when he caught a glimpse of Nasim on the ground dripping blood from her nose and mouth. Machete at his side, Abad pushed his way through the crowd and walked with purpose directly towards the man hovering over and spewing hatred at his wife. What had always been a tool, was now a weapon and in one swift motion, he swung wide and low and then up and through the bare neck of the aggressor, then pushed him away from Nasim so he wouldn't fall or bleed on his wife. He spun around and found himself eye to eye with the other Islamic enforcer, who was obviously startled and clumsily wrestling to get his AK47 (automatic rifle) aimed at Abad. Without hesitation, Abad abruptly pushed his weapon through the man's Adam's Apple, and he instantly fell limp in the square. Abad turned, dropped his machete, scooped Nasim into his arms, and a small cheer rose from some people in the crowd. He noticed a nearby man sitting on a scooter, promptly handed $20 to the man, which was a very generous sum. "Please! You will find your scooter down at Captain Rahim's dock". The man stood up, took Abad's money, then Nasim and Abad sat down on the scooter. She wrapped her arms around Abad's torso, and they raced towards the sea. She squeezed him tightly, thankful he'd arrived just in time.
Samira had told Captain Rahim what was happening, but as Abad pulled up to the dock, the look on his face and his bloody hands and clothes spoke volumes. Rahim's wife emerged from her house and handed Nasim a wet cloth to clean up her cuts. Rahim calmed Abad, as he paid for the boat in US dollars. He then handed Abad a bag of baked bread, a large flask of water, and some olives. Even for life-long friends, it was the best he could do on such short notice. They two of them shared many fond memories and Abad struggled to contain his emotions. They both knew that this was truly goodbye. "Please. No words my friend. You must go," Rahim said to Abad, as he motioned towards one of his fishing boats at the end of the dock. Abad took the money, food, and water, embraced Rahim, then led Nasim and his daughter towards the boat. His mind poured over thousands of thoughts, as he slowly walked towards the boat. Earlier that very day he had been taking desperate pilgrims across the sea and now he was a desperate pilgrim himself! As they drew near to the boat, Abad got a closer look at who they would cross the sea with and it was disturbing. Six women sat in a tight circle in the center of the boat wearing dark veils, long black loose fitting dresses, and their heads hung in subservience. He quickly identified a few travelers from other places, but the majority of the passengers on this trip were appeared to be from Southern Egypt or possibly Northern Sudan. Nasim hadn't worn her veil in a very long time, which is probably what led to her being beaten that afternoon. She was still bleeding from her nose and mouth, as she slowly and casually pulled her veil over her face, then she gently slid her hand in Abad's hand. Abad knew the men in this group had noticed Nasim not wearing her veil and now they openly walked in public while holding hands. One of the men took a step towards them as they came aboard. The greeting from the man was in Abad's native language of Arabic, "Hello", but as soon as they stepped onto the boat this same man turned and spoke to the other men in their group in a tribal language. Abad did not like the idea of setting out to sea with these people, but taking his chances in Misrata was certainly out of the question. Abad intentionally sat his wife and daughter next to a man, who he felt might share his way of thinking. Sure enough, the man leaned over to Abad's ear and said, "They will be first". "I do not understand what it is you are saying to me", Abad said to the man. "There will soon be trouble. The man who greeted you, as you came aboard, then turned to the other men in his group, nodded towards you and your wife, and spoke in the tribal language, Najdi, "They will be first".
More pilgrims piled on and soon the boat pushed away from the dock and the ship's propellers pushed the boat North. Abad's heart was very heavy, as he looked to his left and watched as the sun which was setting on what had already been a tumultuous day. He thought about Alya. How she was doing, how far had she had made it since she stepped off his boat earlier that day. Unlike those he would soon fight, Abad knew his way around Rahim's boats and could handle himself quite well at hand fighting. His confidence that he would set foot on dry land again was completely unwavering. Abad slowly stood and watched the sun slip away. Soon it would be dark, very dark and Abad was not looking forward to doing what he knew must be done. "Pappa, why are you crying"? Samira said, as she gently wiped water away from his eyes. "I'm not crying sweety, it's just splashing water from the sea or something". The boats exterior deck lights came on and pierced the darkness. Soon three of the men in the large group stood up and Abad knew it was about to go down. Like the lights on the fishing boat that night, the lights on the combine kept the darkness away, but they were an eery reminder of that dreadful melee on the Mediterranean that night. Abad deeply loved America and his new found freedom and would do it all over again a hundred times if that's what it took to get back to his new life.
In the weeks following the dramatic government upheaval in Cairo, matters grew even increasingly worse in Misrata. General order eroded to the extent that decency and civility was rare. His home town began to swell with hordes of the hungry and desperate, who were seeking to escape North, across the sea, in hopes of changing the quality of their lives. Abad joined many other captains and used his own vessel to ferry pilgrims across the Mediterranean to Italy or Greece. These travelers were from all over Northern and Western Africa and converged on the docks of Misrata like ants. They would cram onto any boat headed out to sea. A number of boats capsized off the coast due to overcrowding and Abad had also heard horror stories of hardcore fundamentalist muslim passengers killing or tossing overboard all other passengers who they did not believe were adhering to the strictest of Islamic law
It was during one of Abad's Mediterranean crossings, that he encountered Alya, a woman from his own town, who he'd known about for years. She told him with tears on her cheeks of her oppression, daily misery, and her dream of finding and living in peace. She had a friend, who had discovered safety and work in Switzerland. She had written Alya to report that although it was cold, sophisticated, and rather unwelcoming in the small seaside town of Ascona, it was an incredible improvement over her last few years in Libya. Alya was headed North in hopes of finding her friend, and to also work and live in peace. Her gut-wrenching sincerity captivated Abad and he listened intently, as he felt the sparkle of hope in her words. He thought to himself on the return voyage, as the boat slowly trudged through the gentle swells of the Mediterranean, "This young woman from his very own town has thrown clothes and a blanket in a bag and is on her way towards her dream". His head swam in thoughts of how or where he might go, how long the journey would take, how much it would cost, and whether or not his wife would be willing to go.
As he tied up his fishing boat at his home dock, he was told that his wife, Nasim, had been taken by a small group of armed thugs, who were last seen dragging her by her hair towards the market. This very scenario had played out in his head many times and he immediately knew what he must do. He also knew that once he did what must be done that he would have to leave with his family forever. He stopped by his small house, grabbed his machete, his bag full of dinar, his eleven-year-old daughter, Samira, and sprinted towards the market. Along the way, he realized that regardless of what was about to happen, he did not want Samira to witness it. He stopped, knelt down and looked into her eyes, and told her to run all the way to see Captain Rahim. "Tell him that I changed my mind and that I will sell my boat to him today and at exactly the same price he offered me just last week." Samira kissed her daddy on the cheek then turned and took off back down the road. Abad was not prone to violence, however, he was quickly provoked to action when he caught a glimpse of Nasim on the ground dripping blood from her nose and mouth. Machete at his side, Abad pushed his way through the crowd and walked with purpose directly towards the man hovering over and spewing hatred at his wife. What had always been a tool, was now a weapon and in one swift motion, he swung wide and low and then up and through the bare neck of the aggressor, then pushed him away from Nasim so he wouldn't fall or bleed on his wife. He spun around and found himself eye to eye with the other Islamic enforcer, who was obviously startled and clumsily wrestling to get his AK47 (automatic rifle) aimed at Abad. Without hesitation, Abad abruptly pushed his weapon through the man's Adam's Apple, and he instantly fell limp in the square. Abad turned, dropped his machete, scooped Nasim into his arms, and a small cheer rose from some people in the crowd. He noticed a nearby man sitting on a scooter, promptly handed $20 to the man, which was a very generous sum. "Please! You will find your scooter down at Captain Rahim's dock". The man stood up, took Abad's money, then Nasim and Abad sat down on the scooter. She wrapped her arms around Abad's torso, and they raced towards the sea. She squeezed him tightly, thankful he'd arrived just in time.
Samira had told Captain Rahim what was happening, but as Abad pulled up to the dock, the look on his face and his bloody hands and clothes spoke volumes. Rahim's wife emerged from her house and handed Nasim a wet cloth to clean up her cuts. Rahim calmed Abad, as he paid for the boat in US dollars. He then handed Abad a bag of baked bread, a large flask of water, and some olives. Even for life-long friends, it was the best he could do on such short notice. They two of them shared many fond memories and Abad struggled to contain his emotions. They both knew that this was truly goodbye. "Please. No words my friend. You must go," Rahim said to Abad, as he motioned towards one of his fishing boats at the end of the dock. Abad took the money, food, and water, embraced Rahim, then led Nasim and his daughter towards the boat. His mind poured over thousands of thoughts, as he slowly walked towards the boat. Earlier that very day he had been taking desperate pilgrims across the sea and now he was a desperate pilgrim himself! As they drew near to the boat, Abad got a closer look at who they would cross the sea with and it was disturbing. Six women sat in a tight circle in the center of the boat wearing dark veils, long black loose fitting dresses, and their heads hung in subservience. He quickly identified a few travelers from other places, but the majority of the passengers on this trip were appeared to be from Southern Egypt or possibly Northern Sudan. Nasim hadn't worn her veil in a very long time, which is probably what led to her being beaten that afternoon. She was still bleeding from her nose and mouth, as she slowly and casually pulled her veil over her face, then she gently slid her hand in Abad's hand. Abad knew the men in this group had noticed Nasim not wearing her veil and now they openly walked in public while holding hands. One of the men took a step towards them as they came aboard. The greeting from the man was in Abad's native language of Arabic, "Hello", but as soon as they stepped onto the boat this same man turned and spoke to the other men in their group in a tribal language. Abad did not like the idea of setting out to sea with these people, but taking his chances in Misrata was certainly out of the question. Abad intentionally sat his wife and daughter next to a man, who he felt might share his way of thinking. Sure enough, the man leaned over to Abad's ear and said, "They will be first". "I do not understand what it is you are saying to me", Abad said to the man. "There will soon be trouble. The man who greeted you, as you came aboard, then turned to the other men in his group, nodded towards you and your wife, and spoke in the tribal language, Najdi, "They will be first".
