Driving with Camels

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Driving in Libya was a tricky business. Even Libyans said so. They had two sayings about it. One was, “In England you drive on the left. In America you drive on the right. In Libya we drive in the shade.” The other was, “In Libya you can drive for hundreds of kilometers without seeing another vehicle. But if you see one, you will probably hit it.”

By the way, I can vouch for the truth underlying the latter saying. Once when driving on a road in the middle of nowhere, I saw a truck coming the other way. As the road was absolutely flat and straight and visibility was perfect, I was able to watch the truck for miles as it got closer and closer. It was driving right in the middle of the road. I got nervous and blew my horn. This seemed to wake up the other driver, who swerved back onto his side of the road at the very last moment, just missing my car.   

The problem wasn’t just that Libyans were undisciplined drivers, although that certainly contributed to the chaos. It was also that the roads were not well maintained. So you constantly had to swerve to avoid huge potholes. And potholes weren’t the only dangers. At some point before we got to Libya the military had moved large numbers of tank transporters and other very heavy vehicles east from Tripoli to the Egyptian border. This had left deep ruts in the tarmac on the main coast road. Some of these ruts were so deep that, if you got your wheels into them, you could be stuck in them for miles.

There was another problem with roads and the military. Whenever the latter were in a hurry - which was often - they would drive in the fast lane on the main roads, but going against the traffic. It could be very disconcerting to zoom along in the fast lane and suddenly see a convoy of military vehicles heading straight towards you.

Anyway, thinking about Libyan roads has reminded me that the worst driving experience of my entire life occurred in Libya, and it happened the very first time that I drove in that country. I had just bought a Beetle and had to drive it home from the dealer. (Perhaps I should mention here that I was a very inexperienced driver and had never driven on the right before. Also, I had failed the only driving test I had ever taken, which was in the UK.)

I managed the first couple of miles all right. Then we came to a large roundabout, which was a seething, disorganized mass of cars, trucks, buses, bikes, donkey carts and pedestrians. I stopped and waited for a space to open up so I could enter the roundabout. After several minutes I realized a space was never going to open up. So I said a quick prayer and drove into the chaos. Remarkably, we didn’t crash. I was elated.

But then I couldn’t get off the roundabout. We went around it again and again. Every time I tried to get off, I would have to swerve back onto it to avoid running into another car or a cyclist or a bus. Once, my way was blocked by a donkey pulling a cart filled with toilets. Another time, I almost escaped only to be thwarted at the last second by a line of camels, each with its tongue connected by a piece of wire to the tail of camel in front of it.

I don’t know how many times we went around. I’m guessing at least twenty but it could well have been more. I do know that when I finally broke free, I pulled over to the side of the road, put my head on the steering wheel and wept.

Libya could do that to you.

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