Welcome to Libya

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A week after arriving in Libya to run the International House school in Tripoli, I was summoned to the Ministry of Education to meet the Director of Private Schools.

The Director, who spoke very good English, was a charming man and he welcomed me warmly. In normal Arab fashion, we had tea and exchanged pleasantries for a while. Then became more serious and told me that he would be keeping a very close eye on my work and that he hoped I would run the school better than the previous director had.

"Oh," I said. "Have there been problems with the school?"

He reached up and took a 3-inch-thick binder from a shelf and opened it on his desk.

"These are recent reports and complaints about the school. Let me read you some examples." He flipped through the pages, stopping now and then to read out headings: "Alcohol being sold in the coffee bar... Many teachers using drugs... Women teachers operating a brothel on the top floor... Teachers making openly anti-Libyan and pro-Zionist remarks in class..."

I was stunned. "But you don't believe any of those things, do you?" I asked.

"Of course not." He paused. "But maybe one day I will have to believe them. And you are the director, so it will be you we hang."

"Hang?" I queried weakly.

He smiled and shrugged. "Hang. Shoot. Same same."

It was not the most auspicious start to what turned out to be four good years in one of the most interesting and friendly countries I've ever visited!
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