Скачать или смотреть Benghazi Finale! 🎁 A Cultural and Ethical Dilemma Before Leaving Libya

Day 177. 70km (90,583kms 8yrs)

For my final day’s ride in Libya I had a superb tailwind southwest into Benghazi; I flew along! Aside from a small fire beside the road which completely blocked my view for a moment (and motorist’s view of me) it was pretty standard; more petrol queues, more checkpoints. But I also passed a fairly recent looking accident, and one that was so new the driver was only now inspecting his front bumper; half disconnected resting on the ground. Once back in Benghazi, I’d not been in my hotel room long when I heard a screech and found beneath my balcony a third crash of the day. So now is a good time to thank all those security men for patiently driving behind me at 10-20kms/hour across Libya.

My first and only priority in Benghazi was readying the bike for flight. I’d been in touch with a bike shop for assistance and provision of a bike box so the following day when I arrived at the agreed time I was disappointed (and pretty stressed!) to find them unprepared and more interested in racing me than helping me pack my bike. When they began unfurling a damp piece of cardboard I thanked them and left. I found another shop with some small bike boxes, and set about carrying one the 3kms back to the hotel. I’d left the hotel unaccompanied after waiting multiple “5 more minutes” for over an hour for security to arrive. So now, turning my phone on, I found several angry missed calls asking for my location, which I now gave hoping they’d be able to transport the box. Instead, 3 men arrived in a saloon car which couldn’t accommodate the box so they all followed as I walked bike and box back to the hotel.

Packing the bike was horrendously stressful as usual. I broke a screw, another - LocTited pannier rack to forks - wouldn’t budge. The box was really too small but I managed as best I could wrapping everything in cardboard playing Tetris with the wheels before sealing the box up with a prayer to the baggage handling gods.

On top of all this I had another matter to resolve. I’d received - unbeknownst to me - a cash gift which I didn’t feel comfortable keeping. So after much I thought I’d decided the best thing to do was donate the money to the Libyan Red Crescent whose head office is in Benghazi. By chance, a Red Cross employee I’d met a few years ago in Palestine had worked with the Red Crescent in Derna, so from him I got a local contact and set up a meeting. I happened to visit on a day they were inducting new volunteers so I got a good tour of their new facility before I donated the money.

I hope my western audience will understand that cash gifts are often another form of generous hospitality or thank you and don’t necessarily carry the same implications in Libya as would they do in Europe or north America. And I hope my local audience will understand that it is impossible for me to accept such a cash gift without damaging my integrity or impartiality with my viewership back home.

Bike boxed, money repurposed, I was now ready to leave Libya.

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