What is it with lines and us Libyans? Are we allergic to them? or do we have deep seeded hatred for everything neat and tidy as a line. If you do not know what I am talking about, then let me elaborate. Let me start with waiting lines; let it be at the baker or in the bank. We are unable to hold the line even at gunpoint, we will start converging on the same point to form a mass of sweaty swearing flammable pile of…you pick the appropriate word. It is almost as if we are oppositely charged that we cannot fight being drawn together.
While you are observing the average Libyan driver, take note of how we park our cars. I would bet my left arm if you can find one who is parked parallel to the curb or between the two lines in any parking lot. The only time a Libyan will hold to a line while he drives is when he drives in a “wedding convoy”. An activity observed when driving the groom and the bride to their “party” by their friends and family. This fragile line will hold until the first zealous driver who is trying to impress the girl in the next car breaks the line and do one of the following: zigzag between the cars, preform a handbrake 180 maneuver or the infamous donuts in the next intersection effectively blocking traffic for the next 15 minutes or so. This is when all hell breaks loose, everyone is on his own trying either not be outdone by the other drivers or escaping for his dear life and his not yet paid or borrowed car. I can go on typing an example after another until I develop a carpal tunnel syndrome. The fact still remains, at least from my point of view, we are genetically unable to follow the line, hold the line, write on the line “in Arabic” or read between the lines. This is why a bunch of hooligans ruled us for the last 42 years; it is also, why we revolted. It is the reason why we will not be able to move to a democratic state anytime soon.
Al Bayda, Libya