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Tripoli,
August 29, 2009 – You are never alone in Libya. From the moment you
arrive at Tripoli international airport, Colonel Muammar Gaddafi is with
you.
Wherever you go, the Great Leader and Father of the Revolution watches
benevolently over you, never more so than now as he prepares to
celebrate the 40th anniversary of the coup that brought him to power.
As befits Africa’s longest-serving leader, he stares down from a
thousand billboards, from great banners draped down the sides of
skyscrapers, from bunting stretched across streets, from official
portraits in every shop and hotel lobby, from hoardings at the remotest
junctions in the desert. Nobody else gets a look-in.
His image is reproduced in neon, on mosaics and across the sides of the
hot-air balloons tethered in Green Square in readiness for next
Tuesday’s celebrations. It appears on the huge electronic clocks
counting down the minutes to that great occasion.
His is a personality cult that makes Mao Zedong, Saddam Hussein or Kim
Jong Il look self-effacing.
In some images Colonel Gaddafi appears in triumphant pose — arms raised
aloft against a background of sunrays, African liberation heroes or
green, flower-strewn meadows more Alpine than Libyan. In others he is
praying, or striking a military posture, or looking pensive and
scholarly. He sports a bewildering variety of attires — military, Arab,
Western with rock-star shades, and some that simply defy fashion or
description.
Those hoardings that do not bear his face have a huge “40” instead, with
accompanying slogans that recognize his immense achievements and the
many bounties he has brought to his country. “If it weren’t for you the
impossible would not happen,” they proclaim. “It is an honor to live in
your country”, “Spring for ever”.
Somewhere in Tripoli there must be a large factory churning out these
posters, with a special department for the sloganeers.
The Libyan masses agree wholeheartedly with such sentiments. They adore
the self-styled leader, not just of Libya but of the entire continent of
Africa. At least one assumes they do, for it is remarkably difficult to
persuade an ordinary Libyan to talk about him. You never, ever, hear one
speak ill of Colonel Gaddafi, even in the privacy of a car. Some turn
positively pale if you even ask about him: they swiftly change the
subject, or launch into an effusive recitation of his greatness and
munificence.
“Do Libyans love their leader?” I asked one. “Yes,” he replied without
elaboration. “Can you criticize him?” I asked. “No,” he replied. “What
happens if you do?” I persisted. “You go to jail,” he said.
Source: Times database, August 28, 2009
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