A banal-looking border crossing has become a symbol of Berber resistance, writes NORMA COSTELLOin Nalut, western Libya
REBELS WITH Kalashnikovs stroll nonchalantly across the border that has been a lifeline to the Berber opposition forces of western Libya, one of only six border crossings in the country. The banal-looking 150 metres (492ft) has become a symbol of resistance for the inhabitants of the isolated Nasfusah mountains.
Crossing the border is an informal affair. Tunisian support for those they regard as their brothers is evident in the exchange of cigarettes, pats on the back and a laid-back atmosphere that prevails despite news of losses in the rest of the country.
Pick-up trucks loaded with food, blankets and water flood into Libya daily for the men who remained to fight in the scattered towns and villages as the few women and children yet to be evacuated cross into the refugee camps in Dehiba and Remada.
The road to the next major town, Nalut, is empty bar a few ramshackle checkpoints where old men wave vehicles on with shotguns and battered rifles – it is hard to imagine how this group managed to hold out. Rebels carry the remains of Grad missiles to checkpoints and signal cars in to show the occupants the remains of weapons used on the city of Zentan, 100km (62 miles) east of Nalut.
Ebrahim Bourkika (36), a former history teacher who now guards one of the checkpoints on the desert road, said Gadafy troops are firing Grad missiles on the centre of Zentan.
“They are using Grad missiles but we are only armed with old rifles and Kalishnakovs,” he says.
“We will never give up Zentan or Nalut, we know the terrain and our strategy is developing and we are fighting for our freedom, Gadafy is telling the world we are al-Qaeda but we are not like them. Nato is afraid of us, but he is using chemical weapons, we must fight for our people.”
Nalut is now a ghost town. Most of its 66,228 population left weeks ago for Tunisia, where they await news of family members who stayed behind.
Azedine (48), a hospital caretaker who lived in Dublin for 10 years, brings us around the town’s deserted, hospital which is being run by a skeleton staff of Ukrainian, Filipino and Bengali nurses and doctors. Most of the wounded have been sent to Tunisia via the rebel-controlled border. The majority have suffered gunshot wounds, with sporadic admissions for victims of Grad missile attacks. Azedine says they are preparing for the worst.
“He is using weapons we have never seen before, people are burning and turning to ash, we don’t know what to do, we are protected by the rebels but if he starts to use more of these weapons there is nothing we can do.”
Nalut's empty streets suggest the worst is yet to come. The remains of a sculpture dedicated to Gadafy's Green Booklay strewn in the town centre, and walls graffitied with "freedom" and "February 17th", known as "the day of rage", tower over a handful of rebels securing the northern entrance to the town.
Azedine says the strong resistance displayed by the rebels is a direct result of Gadafy’s treatment of the region’s Berber population.
“This place is different, here we are Berber not Arab,” he says.
“Gadafy hates Berber people; there are Arab villages in these mountains but he attacks Berbers harder than Arabs. We have 80 per cent unemployment in Nalut, there are no good roads, no healthcare and the education system is very poor. We are fighting because for 42 years we have been oppressed.”
The jovial atmosphere at the border seems an odd oasis as Tunisians help Libyans load up trucks and rebels nap in the sunshine, but the joy of the rebel seizure is waning as relatives in refugee camps await news from those returning from Libya.
Fatima (25), who left her two brothers and husband behind to fight arrived in the United Arab Emirate-run camp in Dehiba two days ago, said people are waiting for what will come next. “They are waiting in the valley, they have missiles pointed at Nalut and snipers under the mountain road, Gadafy is fighting now in Zentan but the fight for Nalut has not begun; every day we worry about our city and our husbands.”