On 9th Anniversary of his Death, Gaddafi Supporters Demand Location of his Grave

Gaddafi arrives for a parade in Tripoli's Green Square to celebrate the 40th anniversary of the military coup that brought him to power, September 2009. (AP)
Gaddafi arrives for a parade in Tripoli's Green Square to celebrate the 40th anniversary of the military coup that brought him to power, September 2009. (AP)
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On 9th Anniversary of his Death, Gaddafi Supporters Demand Location of his Grave

Gaddafi arrives for a parade in Tripoli's Green Square to celebrate the 40th anniversary of the military coup that brought him to power, September 2009. (AP)
Gaddafi arrives for a parade in Tripoli's Green Square to celebrate the 40th anniversary of the military coup that brought him to power, September 2009. (AP)

Supporters of slain Libyan leader Moammar al-Gaddafi marked on Tuesday nine years since his killing in a NATO-backed uprising in 2011.

Supporters recalled the last days of Gaddafi’s life and that of his followers as they came under NATO bombardment on their remaining forces in Sirte and Bani Waled, demanding that the location of the leader’s grave be disclosed.

The last spokesman of the former regime, Moussa Ibrahim, recalled the months they remained in hiding from drones before they received word of Gaddafi’s killing.

“It was the night of October 20, 2011. We were fortified in a neighborhood in Bani Waled. With our hands on our rifles, we had only a few bullets left, but a lot of perseverance. We were following Gaddafi’s orders to hold the front after the fall of the capital Tripoli,” he said.

Bani Waled resisted NATO strikes and the “brutality of its gangs,” he added, while lamenting the loss of several Libyan youths inside the city, including Khamis, Gaddafi’s youngest son.

In contrast, an official in the Misrata military council boasted to Asharq Al-Awsat of its role in “ridding” the country of the “dictator” Gaddafi.

“If time were to go back, we would do it all over again,” he declared, while urging Gaddafi supporters to “accept the new reality and overcome the past.”

The military official, who spoke on condition of anonymity, said Gaddafi’s supporters are keen on turning back the hands of time and are grooming his son, Seif al-Islam, to become the country’s new leader.

“We won’t allow it,” he vowed, while refusing to disclose details about how Gaddafi was killed or where he and his other slain son, Mutassim, are buried.

Back to those nights in October 2011, Ibrahim said: “Bani Waled fell when our ammunition almost ran out and the drone strikes intensified.”

The defenders of the city scattered to various fronts, but Ibrahim and other supporters remained in the city.

“This was no act of bravery or military genius, but we knew that we were at the end of the road in this blessed city,” he said.

“Three days after Bani Waled fell, we received the harrowing news of Gaddafi’s martyrdom in Sirte and the national battle came to an end,” he added. “Grown men wept in Bani Waled and we then performed the prayers of the dead for him.”

“I have never seen them weep so violently, not even when the bombs tore apart their relatives,” he continued.

“After that, we remained fortified in Bani Waled until November. We realized that we had no choice but to confront the NATO gangs with what little ammunition we had left or wait for our death on the outskirts of our beloved city,” Ibrahim said.

“Dozens of our members were killed during the pullout operations from the city. We left behind a glittering history. Our president said he would die here and indeed he died in Sirte,” he continued.

Even though nine years have passed, some Libyan cities, especially those in the South, still mourn Gaddafi’s death. Many supporters are demanding that the location of his grave be revealed.

Gaddafi and Mutassim were killed in Sirte, but people from Misrata moved their bodies to their city before burying them in an unknown location. Since then, their supporters have been demanding to know the location and have filed legal suits, but to no avail.

While Gaddafi’s supporters continue to mourn, other Libyans find reason to rejoice his passing. They see in his death anniversary a reason to celebrate the “liberation” of the country. One MP said that October 20 marks the declaration of Libya’s liberation.



They Fled Syria Years Ago. Now, they Spend their First Ramadan Back amid Nostalgia, Relief and Loss

Displaced Syrian women prepare food at a makeshift camp in Idlib on May 23, 2019. (AFP)
Displaced Syrian women prepare food at a makeshift camp in Idlib on May 23, 2019. (AFP)
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They Fled Syria Years Ago. Now, they Spend their First Ramadan Back amid Nostalgia, Relief and Loss

Displaced Syrian women prepare food at a makeshift camp in Idlib on May 23, 2019. (AFP)
Displaced Syrian women prepare food at a makeshift camp in Idlib on May 23, 2019. (AFP)

When Mariam Aabour learned of the ouster of Syrian leader Bashar Assad, she shed tears of joy. But as the time came to return to her homeland from Lebanon – where she fled years earlier – Aabour felt torn.
She was happy about the homecoming, but sad to leave behind a son and a stepson who remained in Lebanon to work and pay off family debts. Months before her return, Aabour’s father died in Syria without her seeing him. Her Syrian home has been destroyed and there’s no money to rebuild, she said.
Thus it’s been bittersweet experiencing her first Ramadan – the Muslim holy month – since her return, The Associated Press said.
“We’ve all lost dear ones,” she said. “Even after our return, we still cry over the tragedies that we’ve lived through.”
As they spend their first Ramadan in years in their homeland, many Syrians who’ve recently trickled back in from abroad have been celebrating the end of the Assad family’s rule in December after a fast-paced opposition offensive. They are relishing some new freedoms and savoring some old traces of the lives they once knew.
They enjoy family reunions but many also face challenges as they adjust to a country ravaged by a prolonged civil war and now grappling with a complex transition. As they do, they grieve personal and communal losses: Killed and missing loved ones, their absence amplified during Ramadan. Destroyed or damaged homes. And family gatherings shattered by the exodus of millions.
A time for daily fasting and heightened worship, Ramadan also often sees joyous get-togethers with relatives over food and juices.
Aabour – one of the more than 370,000 Syrians the United Nations' refugee agency, UNHCR, says have returned to the country since Assad’s ouster – delights in hearing the call to prayer from mosques signaling the end of the daily fast. In her Lebanon neighborhood, she said, there were no nearby mosques and she relied on phones to know when to break the fast.
The hardest part, she added, is sitting for the fast-breaking meal known as “iftar” without some loved ones, including her father and a son, who she said was killed before the family fled Syria.
She bitterly recalled how her child, who she said was about 10 when killed, liked a rice and peas dish for iftar and would energetically help her, carrying dishes from the kitchen.
“I used to tell him, ‘You’re too young,’ but he would say, ‘No, I want to help you,’” she said, sitting on the floor in her in-laws’ house which her family now shares with relatives.
Faraj al-Mashash, her husband, said he’s not currently working, accumulating more debt and caring for an ill father.
The family borrowed money to fix his father’s home in Daraya. It was damaged and looted, but still standing.
Many Daraya homes aren’t.
Part of Rural Damascus and known for its grapes and its furniture workshops, Daraya was one of the centers of the uprising against Assad. The conflict devolved into armed insurgency and civil war after Assad crushed what started as largely peaceful protests; this Ramadan, Syrians marked the 14th anniversary of the civil war’s start.
Daraya suffered killings and saw massive damage during fighting. It endured years of government besiegement and aerial campaigns before a deal was struck between the government and opposition factions in 2016 that resulted in the evacuation of fighters and civilians and control ceded to the government.
Today, in parts of Daraya, children and others walk past walls with gaping holes in crumbling buildings. In some areas, a clothesline or bright-colored water tank provides glimpses of lives unfolding among ruins or charred walls.
Despite it all, al-Mashash said, it’s home.
“Isn’t Daraya destroyed? But I feel like I am in heaven.”
Still, “there’s sadness,” he added. “A place is only beautiful with its people in it. Buildings can be rebuilt, but when a person is gone, they don’t come back.”
In Lebanon, al-Mashash struggled financially and was homesick for Daraya, for the familiar faces that used to greet him on its streets. Shortly after Assad’s ouster, he returned.
This Ramadan, he’s re-lived some traditions, inviting people for iftar and getting invited, and praying at a mosque where he has cherished memories.
Some of those who had left Daraya, and now returned to Syria, say their homes have been obliterated or are in no condition for them to stay there. Some of them are living elsewhere in an apartment complex that had previously housed Assad-era military officers and is now sheltering some families, mostly ones who've returned from internal displacement.
The majority of those who've returned to Syria since Assad's removal came from countries in the region, including Lebanon, Jordan and Türkiye, said Celine Schmitt, UNHCR’s spokesperson in Syria.
A main security fear for returnees is unexploded mines, Schmitt said, adding UNHCR provides “mine awareness sessions” in its community centers. It also offers legal awareness for those needing IDs, birth certificates or property documents and has provided free transportation for some who came from Jordan and Türkiye, she said.
The needs of returnees, so far a fraction of those who’ve left, are varied and big – from work and basic services to house repairs or construction. Many, Schmitt said, hope for financial help to start a small business or rebuild, adding that more funding is needed.
“We’re calling on all of our donors,” she said. “There’s an opportunity now to solve one of the biggest displacement crises in the world, because people want to go back.”
Many of those who haven't returned cite economic challenges and “the huge challenges they see in Syria” as some of the reasons, she said.
In January, UN High Commissioner for Refugees Filippo Grandi said living conditions in the country must improve for the return of Syrians to be sustainable.
Umaya Moussa, also from Daraya, said she fled Syria to Lebanon in 2013, returning recently as a mother of four, two of whom had never seen Syria before.
Moussa, 38, recalls, at one point, fleeing an area while pregnant and terrified, carrying her daughter and clutching her husband’s hand. The horrors have haunted her.
“I’d remember so many events that would leave me unable to sleep,” she said. “Whenever I closed my eyes, I would scream and cry and have nightmares.”
In Lebanon, she lived for a while in a camp, where she shared the kitchen and bathroom with others. “We were humiliated ..., but it was still better than the fear we’ve lived through.”
She’d yearned for the usual Ramadan family gatherings.
For the first iftar this year, she broke her fast with her family, including brothers who, she said, as fighters against the Assad government, had previously moved to then opposition-controlled Idlib province.
Missing from the Ramadan meal was her father who died while Moussa was away.
Like Moussa, Saeed Kamel is intimately familiar with the pain of a joy incomplete. This Ramadan, he visited the grave of his mother who had died when he was in Lebanon.
“I told her that we’ve returned but we didn’t find her,” he said, wiping away tears.
And it wasn’t just her. Kamel had been hopeful that with Assad gone, they would find a missing brother in his prisons; they didn’t.
Kamel had vowed never to return to a Syria ruled by Assad, saying he felt like a stranger in his country. His home, he said, was damaged and looted.
But despite any difficulties, he held out hope. At least, he said, “the next generation will live with dignity, God willing.”
Kamel fondly recalled how – before their worlds changed – his family would exchange visits with others for most of Ramadan and neighbors would send each other iftar dishes.
“Ramadan is not nice without the family gatherings,” he said. “Now, one can barely manage.”
He can’t feel the same Ramadan spirit as before.
“The good thing,” he said, “is that Ramadan came while we’re liberated.”