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Escape From Libya
KE's Libyan Trekkers Evacuated by Hercules
On Monday 21st Feb the KE crisis management team sprang into immediate action to devise a plan to evacuate 9 trekkers from the Acacus Mountains in southern Libya. The unrest was threatening to get worse and the Foreign Office was now advising against travel to Libya. Blissfully unaware of any world news, the trekkers continued walking, enjoying the warmth of the Saharan sun and the company of the friendly guide and camel handlers.
Our team registered the trekkers with the Foreign Office
LOCATE service and started the process of communicating with Libya and the
Foreign Office to safely evacuate the trekkers from the southern desert. The
emails, phone calls and text messages started to peak on Tuesday when the KE team
managed to get the group on the manifest for a French Military rescue flight
out of Sabha, situated in the deep south-west desert, the following afternoon. However all email and telephone communication to Libya was down, with only the
occasional text message getting through to our agency in Tripoli and the group
were still out of signal and enjoying their holiday. Finally, on Wednesday
morning a call did manage to get through from Libya and a text from a group
member - they had got the message and where leaving for Sabha asap. Would they
get there in time? The KE team realised that the French plane would leave
without them and another plan had to be quickly hatched. KE now had communication links
open with the French Government, and the French passed the group details onto
the Italian Government. We still couldn't breath properly here at KE, would
they get on the Italian flight on Thursday? Several further evacuation plans
were in the making with options fast running out as driving was now not a safe
bet, Tripoli airport was a nightmare, the border with Tunisia becoming a
refugee camp....
On Thursday after hours of frustrating deadline phone calls
to Libya, unanswered emails, and hours on hold to the Foreign Office we receive
an unexpected and very pleasing call from Libya to say that our group were on
the Italian military C-130 Hercules flight to Rome. Our guide Mohammed had seen
them board the flight, and watched it leave the runway....phew.
We would like to thank all our trekkers for staying calm during what must have been some frightening hours, also to the next of kin for keeping their nerves during the several phones call that we here at KE had with them. Finally to our team in Libya who worked extremely hard for everyone and didn't leave the group to return to their families back in Tripoli.
And of course thanks to the Italian military and their
Hercules.
Above is the KE Team's account of last weeks events. Bronwen Griffiths, one of our trekkers has given us her holiday account, and Vincent Johnson spoke to the Cambridge News with his story.
View article in the Cambridge Evening News by Vincent Johnson
Leaving Libya - by Bronwen Griffiths
Four days in the desert, oblivious to the outside world. Hundreds and hundreds of miles away from anywhere. This is the Libyan Acacus; a place of sand and towering rocks; the occasional wadi bordered by acacia trees. We only know the sound of the wind through the rocks, the sand soft under our feet and the occasional groan of a camel. At night we sleep under the stars. How many stars. It makes you feel small and insignificant. Even world events seem like nothing.
Each day brings a new marvel: swallows leaving on their way north; another vista to take the breath away; rocks packed with fossils.
Wednesday 23rd February, 11am. We sit on a rock in the wide, open wadi. Our Libyan guide speaks to us about the cave of the Djinns. The Djinns are dangerous. We cannot see them but they stalk our world sewing chaos and destruction. A jet takes off in the far distance. Suddenly I feel uneasy.
1pm: Lunch stop under a large acacia. The 4 x 4 arrives with fresh bread. We are looking forward to a wash in the sulphur springs. We are unwashed; dusty.
We eat and set up camp. But everything
turns. Now we receive the first of the text messages.
Text 1: Libya in turmoil. Things getting very bad. R u ok?
Text 2: Britain sending ship 4 evacuation of all nationals. Civil war feared. Dead lying in the streets. Gadafi vowed 2 fight to the last man woman and child. Good luck.
Text 3: Hi. Keep seeing the news and worrying about you. Were you advised not to go to Libya or did you get there?
Pack up camp. What's happening? We don't know.
3.45 pm: We set off for the sulphur
springs. After 5 minutes we are turned back. We must leave for Sebha immediately.
We wait for the vehicles under the acacia tree. The camels edge ever closer.
Our guide, cook and young security guard are on the nearby ridge. To our right
the spires of Kaf Anjoun, Mountain of the Ghosts, slowly changes colour from
something almost transparent to solid rock.
No one talks much. We arrange the tip for our guides and wait.
Text 4: Foreign office advises all British Nationals leave immediately. Austria and other nations already evacuated via military. Your mum keeps calling.
Three vehicles drive into camp. The sun is sinking. Biscuits and water are distributed. We set out across the expanse of the wadi at speed. We pass the springs and a forest of strange trees. The dunes look like huge meringues. Another vehicle passes. In the back stands a young man in dark shades. He has a green scarf tied to his arm and an AK 47 slung across his shoulder.
Text 5: Welcome to Libya. You will not be able to make calls or access your voicemail on this network.
Up and over the sand dunes, and bump onto the long empty road. The sun is almost set now. We come to an abrupt halt, a hundred yards from a check-point. Our guides pray at the side of the road. They always pray at this time. But now it seems as if they pray harder. Perhaps not. Darkness falls.
Text 6: You need 2 get out via Sebha. U have seats on air france this eve.
We wait. There are heated discussions in Arabic. Someone distributes mints. We're off again. Though the first check-point. No problem.
8pm: And we are at Ghat near the Algerian border. This is the one place we know we should not be visiting. We eat pizza and drink coffee outside in full view. The town seems normal: traffic, a few kids walking by. But everyone glued to the TV inside.
Text 7: Need to leave Libya ASAP due to worsening situation. Have seats for group on flight organised by Allibert (France) from Sebha to Paris TODAY. Go immediately to Sebha to catch this. Second option. UK gov flight from Tripoli. 3rd option drive to Tunisia border.
The pizza is welcome. We manage a few laughs.
9pm: On the move again. New drivers. One car and one mini-bus. Three of our group in the car with the guide. The rest - six - with driver and young security man.
Text 8: U have to get to Sebha now.
Hours on the straight desert road. Indicators blinking. Arabic rap music. Everyone quiet. Not sleeping. The sudden red of brake lights signifying the next check-point. Tension. Music turned off. Lights go on inside the bus; a torch shone in. A few words. Sometimes the uniforms are blue, sometimes green. Everyone carries an AK47.
A petrol stop. Every now and again lights at the side of the road, or a car passing south. C asks me what I'd do if I only had a year left of my life. V sits, staring ahead, willing the driver to stay awake.
Text 9: Hi all, sorry you will miss French plane at Sebha, You must now depart for Tripoli airport first thing tomorrow. UK gov are sending 2 more planes on 24th. They have all your details. Take food and water. Try not to drive at night after reaching Sebha. If situation changes Tunis border at Ras Ajdir only alternative. Stay in touch.
1am: Ubari. Petrol stop number two. Young men hanging about the city centre. A new checkpoint. Not the police or military. Who do they support? I try not to catch anyone's eye.
1.30am: Germa. Quiet.
3am: I see a desert fox cross the road. We are nearing Sebha. I feel more nervous. We pass an empty check-point, then a second check-point manned by twitchy youths with cocked AK47's. A small fire burns at the side of the road.
Text 10: Can you let me know exactly where you are at the moment?
4am: We arrive at the tourist camp in Sebha where we started out from. I wash and try to sleep.
7am: I'm woken by the twittering of birds, a cockerel crowing.
8am: Breakfast. Eggs, bread, instant coffee. The news is on in the corner of the room. Al Jazeera. Then BBC World Service. Things look bad, really bad.
Text 11: Bron r u ok? R u coming back early? Have you got help? Thinking of you and sending u love.
Text 12: Received text from C to say u are in Sebha. Pls stay in Sebha and find other EU citizens. Trying to get Brit gov plane to Sebha. If u can fly to Tripoli do this. If u r currently driving to Tripoli pls return to Sebha. Do not drive to Tripoli.
9am: The EU nationals - the Germans, Austrians, Italians and Slovenians leave for Sebha airport. V says, ‘That's it, we're stuffed.' We discuss probabilities and options. Everyone is tense but calm. V says we might have to wait for the boys from Hereford to take us out. We decide we are not going to Tripoli, whatever anyone says.
10am: We are taken on a tour of the zoo. There are two ostriches, a few gazelles and desert foxes. We take photos. It's like being on a school outing.
11am: We sit outside in the sun. A cold wind blows through the palm trees. Our guide says he thinks there is a plane for us. But no one seems sure of anything.
1.10pm: A car drives up. A boy and his father get out. We wait. Still no news for us.
1.45pm: A smart white mini-bus turns up. There is a picture of Gadafi strung across the side window. We're to go to the airport. I swear under my breath.
1.55pm: We pass the fort at Sebha. I see the guys with their guns watching.
2pm: Sebha airport. We eat a cheese sandwich in the airport café. There are crowds of men outside - mainly Turkish. No sign of the EU nationals. We wait on the grass near the big poster of Gadafi. Our Libyan guide is constantly on the phone. He goes away. Comes back. He says he has seats for us on a flight. We are relieved. We ask him, ‘Where are we flying to?' He says he doesn't know. We think this is quite funny.
3 pm: inside the airport. People everywhere. The flight screens are empty. Our guide takes our passports, waves them under the noses of officials. We think we may be going to Rome, or Pisa or maybe Malta. J wants to go to Malta. The rest of us don't care.
3.15pm: We are told to form a queue. First the Italians, then the Slovenians, then the rest. Brits at the back. We are handed blank boarding cards.
4 pm: We reach passport control.
4.45pm: Departure. An official takes my boarding card at the door. He says he is sorry. I say I'm the one who is sorry. I want to cry. We get on bus.
4.50pm: Step off bus. A young Libyan official checks my passport for the exit stamp. He can't seem to find it. I feel panic. He gives my passport to a second official. I say, ‘I'm with them,' and wave at the Hercules.
4.52pm: I am helped onto the Hercules. It is full of people.
4.53pm: An Italian crew member helps me
back off the Hercules. I am taken, with two other women, to the cockpit. We are
given a seat at the rear of the cockpit; strapped in. The Italians are
friendly, give us ear-plugs.
6pm: We take-off into the sun. The desert is below. There is an easy camaraderie in the plane. We take photos and chat, although it is very hard to hear over the noise of the plane. The crew puts a map up against the side window to keep the sun out. It gets dark. We see the whole of Sicily below us.
9pm: I see the landing strip. We are coming in.
Text 13: Welcome to Rome! V happy u are safely out of Libya. Understand the last 24 hrs will have been difficult. We r sending u a 2nd text with info on flights home from Rome. Again v pleased u r safe.
Text 14: Allah ahkbar! Great news - it's a huge huge story here and we have been worried. When are you out of Roma?
Text 15: Hurrah! Welcome back to Europe bron.
