By Yahya Habil
In the wake of the humanitarian disaster that hit the Libyan port city of Derna, it disappoints me that my hometown has gained international attention for its disaster and suffering rather than its historical significance or beauty.
The same beauty that used to fascinate all its visitors has been kept a secret from the rest of the world for so long.
Derna’s beauty, praised and sung about by many Libyan poets and musicians, lies in its unique topography. After all, it is rare to find such a city with easy access to the Mediterranean, the mountains, and the desert, with a Wadi and a little waterfall.
Speaking of the Wadi, that is the valley or the dry riverbed that cuts through Derna.
Aside from Derna’s location at sea level, compared to its neighbouring towns, which tower above it at elevations exceeding 600m, the Wadi has always made Derna vulnerable.
The Wadi has seven other smaller wadis that act as tributaries and have been the source of many floods.
Yes, floods are no stranger to Derna. They were so common throughout the city’s history. “Jaak El Seil” is a common, colloquial phrase used among Derna’s residents. It means “the flood has come for you”.
Heeding advice
It is used when needing to scare someone. Moreover, perhaps the best evidence of the significant presence of floods in the city’s collective memory is the poem written by Derna’s native poet, Mustafa Trabelsi, which recently gained fame.
The poem went viral for its lines about the catastrophes that floods can bring about as if it foreshadowed the events that would soon unfold in Derna.
Unfortunately, if that was the case, then Trabelsi prophesied not only the coming of the floods but also his death, as he sadly passed away the night of the floods.
That night, and before the deluge would wash away Derna’s city centre by a few hours, Trabelsi was chatting with an uncle of mine.
My uncle recalls Trabelsi expressing his concern that the dams could burst because of the vast rainwater. He advised my uncle to leave his house located right by the Wadi. His warning was enough to save my uncle. Trabelsi himself, however, stayed in his own home.
Floating kids
He lived a few kilometres inside from the banks of the Wadi. Perhaps he did not expect the water to reach his house; maybe his death fulfilled his prophecy. Trabelsi passed away, but his poem lives on today, and he saved the life of my uncle and his family.
My cousin considers Trabelsi lucky as he did not live to witness the horrors that unfolded in Derna that night, which he likened to a doomsday. My cousin witnessed dead bodies of young and old, and even babies, float near him. He saw cars, some with families inside, swept away into the sea. He recalls the horrifying screams of those who were carried by the floods, but what was more alarming, he said, was that those screams quickly silenced as the people died.
He witnessed most of Derna’s downtown washed into the sea from atop the building he and his family fled to. It is in that downtown where the graves of 77 of the Prophet Muhammad’s (PBUH) Companions and Followers rested.
It is where Derna’s almost 400-year-old Andalusian old city quarter, the “Medina”, was and, more importantly, where some of my relatives and friends were that night.
In one of downtown Derna’s main streets, Omar Faiek Shennib Street (named after Libya’s former Minister of Defense, a Derna native), lived one of my many other cousins with his wife and two kids.
Family wiped out
An imam in the local mosque, my cousin, slept early that night so that he could wake up to lead the dawn prayer. After 3 a.m., he and his wife were awakened by the water and saw their two kids floating on top of it dead.
He managed to grab one of his kids to at least bury him. However, as he tried to hold his other child, the current pushed her away. Eventually, he and his wife had no choice but to escape; otherwise, they would have met the same fate as their kids.
Not far away from there, in the same street, lived my friend Yousif, whom I was with one year ago when we went on a short trip to Ain al-Dabousiya, a natural spring between the green mountains around 30 km west of Derna.
Yousif lived with his family, who moved to the street after their original house was destroyed in Derna’s 2018 war. They had been my family’s neighbours for generations.
Unfortunately, their home was destroyed once again. However, this time, it took all seven of them.
The reality is that these stories are only a glimpse of the true horror that unfolded in Derna.
Resilient city
To put things into perspective without mentioning the death toll, the calamity that befell Derna was so massive that a quarter of the city disappeared into the Mediterranean.
Many of the people we once knew no longer exist.
The scent of decomposing corpses now replaces Derna’s once jasmine-scented air.
Despite the tragedy, Derna’s breathtaking sunrise, which overlooks the Mediterranean from atop its high hills, is still the same.
History has taught us that Derna is a highly resilient city that never perishes. What happened was, in fact, not the worst disaster in Derna’s history.
That title goes to the plague, which, according to the Italian traveller Della Cella, reduced Derna’s population in 1816 from 7,000 to 500! In defiance of that, Derna persevered and became a symbol of immortality.
The author, Yahya Habil, is a Libyan freelance journalist focusing on African affairs. He is currently working with a think tank in the Middle East.
Disclaimer: The viewpoints expressed by the author do not necessarily reflect the opinions, viewpoints and editorial policies of TRT Afrika.
