- It all began when my best friend
emailed me on February 9, 2011.
He disappeared three days later, and I didn't know
that would be the last I'd ever hear from him.
My friend was emailing me to help him organize protests
in Tripoli that would happen
at the same time in Benghazi, on February 17th.
You may remember this, this was the uprisings,
the beginning of the uprisings in Libya.
In no time, violence spread,
and then there was an intervention,
and then, it was war.
We never really had the chance to mobilize.
At first, I wasn't so sure I would get involved.
The escalation was surreal, and I was shell shocked.
But when I heard that my friend was executed in Tentang,
I decided to join the 17 February Coalition
in the humanitarian sector.
I helped set up a field hospital in Tripoli
for when the rebels took over.
But the waiting was long.
It was eight months of fear, of propaganda,
getting used to curfews, getting accustomed
to being disconnected from the world,
long power cuts, dwindling resources,
and then August finally came,
and the rebels took over the city in one day.
It was surprising.
Tripoli was supposed to be the stronghold of the dictator.
The same day I joined the field hospital as a field nurse,
and then later the military hospital.
When I worked there, in the couple of months I worked there,
I didn't see...
I saw the war not as I saw it in the headlines,
but I saw the atrocities committed.
And I was in even darker place.
For a couple of weeks we received
remains of mass graves,
of people executed during the eighth months,
and some were even older.
I helped families and friends identify their loved ones.
I saw the heartbreak when they recognized a face.
But I also saw their agony and despair when they couldn't
see a feature in the decomposing bodies.
Since February, I took, I was on one side,
the uprising against the dictatorship.
At that point, I took an even stronger stance,
and what I felt was
the pure dehumanization of Gadaffi's forces.
I reflected on it one night, I reflected on the rage
and the grief that was consuming me.
And I thought that wasn't me.
So the next morning I went to the doctor who was in charge,
and I asked him to assign me to work on Gadaffi's forces.
No one went there voluntarily.
Only doctors helped.
The ward was always empty and guarded.
But for some time, I dedicated myself to feeding them,
cleaning them, helping them to the toilet,
and giving them medications.
I thought I was punishing myself.
I wore a bracelet with the opposition flag
I never spoke to them;
and I wanted them to see which side I was on.
Until one very early morning, I was giving
a round of antibiotics,
and this young man looks at me.
And in his eyes, the bewilderment and grief mirrored mine.
And he said, "You make me feel inhuman."
And the realization hit me very deeply
that we were both Libyans caught in this war
that we did not decide or plan for.
Thrown on opposite sides, and at that point,
we did not really understand why it happened
the way it happened.
So I sat next to him and held his hand,
and we wept for awhile.
We didn't speak, I didn't see him again;
but he allowed me to see his humanity.
It wasn't so long after that I started to see the atrocities
the side I was on was committing.
I was disillusioned, and left my post.
But I was restless, I needed to do something,
I needed to contribute to my country.
As a young woman, there was no space for me
in the formal structure.
So I thought I would join Civil Society,
because I realized Libya Civil Society was the only space
at that time where people from different backgrounds,
on different sides, were willing to talk to each other.
People who have opposing opinions are willing
to sit together and work to find a solution for Libya.
So I worked at a psycho social center for traumatized
children and youth, that helped children both cope
with their trauma, but also gave the youth the space
to mobilize, volunteer, help rebuild the country.
I was part of many initiatives, from workshops
of youth empowerment preparation
to election, to Women's Rights issues.
Civil Society work is not easy.
It's exhausting, and time consuming.
Activists are often working too hard
and stretched too thin,
but for a brief period of a little over a year,
we had the freedom to work and protest every week.
But then, in 2014, the war broke out again.
Many activists, friends, and colleagues were assassinated.
And we thought that we lost hope altogether in Libya.
That was the last year I protested in Tripoli.
When you hear about the word war, when you see it
on the news, when you read about it in books,
and watch it in movies, you know about the blood,
the rubble, the destruction, the loss.
That is true, but it's part of it.
You don't know about the people who continue
to live through war,
you don't know about the students who graduate
in front of their bombed campus,
the instability that hangs on your head like a sword;
how it is to live not knowing what would happen to you
and your loved ones.
They don't tell you
about the broken trust in the community.
But they also don't tell you about the teachers
who raise new generations,
the women who start up businesses
to help their communities.
They don't tell you about the people who get up
in the morning hearing the shelling, and the bombing,
and they would still go to their work and classes.
In the midst of images of rubble and despair,
they don't tell you about all those amazing people
who take an active, conscious choice
to resist the war by building lives.
Knowing, meeting and hearing about these resilient
people, I could not give up
on peace and Civil Society or Libya.
And they are on all sides, they are in the governement,
and associations and organizations, and yes,
even in armed groups.
Every single person in Libya have either witnessed
or experienced the horrors of war.
Yet we all try
to keep the hope and the beauty of everyday life.
I decided to pursue my masters degree
in peace and conflict, and wanted to make myself
the most useful tool for peace work.
And what years of activism and war taught me,
is that we won't succeed unless we coordinate
our efforts, and that we are well prepared for peace.
I know it is difficult to sit and talk with someone
you've put on the other side,
or someone you thought of as the enemy,
but they are part of the solution.
And if we want to end the war,
we need to engage with everyone.
It is not enough
to have foundations, organizations, parties.
We need to work together, we need to coordinate,
and we need to be more effective and efficient about it.
That's why I've been working to raise capacities
of Civil Society organizations, and peace networks
in Libya; to transfer knowledge, and skills,
and prepare them and help them prepare for the peace work.
We've spent years fighting, resisting,
and tearing things down.
Now we have to build the society we want.
Together.
Thank you.
(applause)