A memory of Libya

The Middle East is going through an exciting time. A once-in-a-lifetime movement that can change the lives of everyone living in the region and many of those who live outside. I've watched Egypt's revolution with awe and hope and a sense of kinship. I spent a better half of my childhood in the Middle East; living in Tripoli during one of the most turbulent times of that country - the 80s. Even as a foreigner I knew what it was like to live under a dictator. Ghaddafi's photos were everywhere. His "Green Book" was trumpeted as the law to live by. Every Libyan sang his praises as the revolutionary hero who liberated the people - at least on the surface. I never heard anyone utter a word of criticism. To gain the trust and favors of his Libyan coworkers and friends, my father had a man-sized poster of Gaddafi prominently hung in our living room.

As I watched the protests and bloodshed happening in Libya this week, I found myself choked up with emotions for the people I called my friends and neighbors. When Green Square was mentioned as a place of battle, I recalled the time we spent walking around it taking in the smells and sounds, and bargaining with the shop keepers who were no doubt trying to stiff us. I remember my friends and classmates at New Tripoli College, some of whom I'm still in touch with. And as Gaddafi's brutality is been placed under a microscope by the world, I recalled a memory that I have tried to bury away.

This memory was the subject of a Personal Memoir which I wrote for a screen-writing class over a year ago. I had a number of other ideas that I wanted to explore (mostly cute funny stories) but my professor was so enamored by my story that he insisted that I use it to fulfill a project requirement. I was reluctant at best, but it was obvious that it would no doubt get me an 'A'. Even though I had been quite eager to share the projects I've done in my Animation classes, this was one that I wanted to put away and forget as soon as I could. However, the events in the last week has changed that.

Keep in mind that the story was written in the format of a visual screenplay meant for an animated short. I tried to remember every detail but like most childhood memories, many of what I remember are just impressions.

And yes, I indeed got an 'A'.