Rushing to beat the onset of Ramadan, we had a little party at the Institute last week to celebrate my birthday. My students gave me loads of presents, several of which will serve to remind me of my very happy days here when I'm old and wrinkly - some way away yet, I hasten to add.
On Friday, Mohamed and Rajab took me out to Tocra - I'd been telling them about the ruined town and lovely beaches, and they'd never been, so I was their guide for the day. First stop was the necropolis just outside the town - I seem to be developing a fixation with necropoleis; it's probably to do with a very bad event in my childhood which I've blocked from my mind. In the picture below you can just make out some lettering in a mixture of Greek and Roman script. Roman was born out of Greek, so this tomb would have been originally excavated at the time of the mutation.
Out in the city itself, there was more Greek writing - they were supplanted by the Romans, then the Byzantines, then the Arabs, Turks, and Italians in that order. The Arabs finally took control only as recently as 1943, or 1952 if you count the British/French United Nations Mandate period as an occupation. On this block of stone you can clearly see the Greek inscription: TOCRA TORKA ISAR:
We met up with Abdul (in the middle below) at the site. He remembered me from my last visit, and decided that we deserved a personal tour of the site - there wasn't another soul in the whole city. He took us to places I'd missed on my earlier visit, and gave a detailed commentary on the highlights, such as the Byzantine church below:
and this mosaic which needs conserving, but money for this is in short supply. Archaeology students from Benghazi do come out to Tocra on field trips, but there is no large scale digging going on at the moment.
Out in the city itself, there was more Greek writing - they were supplanted by the Romans, then the Byzantines, then the Arabs, Turks, and Italians in that order. The Arabs finally took control only as recently as 1943, or 1952 if you count the British/French United Nations Mandate period as an occupation. On this block of stone you can clearly see the Greek inscription: TOCRA TORKA ISAR:
We met up with Abdul (in the middle below) at the site. He remembered me from my last visit, and decided that we deserved a personal tour of the site - there wasn't another soul in the whole city. He took us to places I'd missed on my earlier visit, and gave a detailed commentary on the highlights, such as the Byzantine church below:
and this mosaic which needs conserving, but money for this is in short supply. Archaeology students from Benghazi do come out to Tocra on field trips, but there is no large scale digging going on at the moment.
Part of the charm of this place is that it (and Tolmeita up the coast a little) have been largely untouched by conservators; there must be so many secrets waiting to be unlocked. I feel such a thrill in being able to just wander round these places at leisure, untroubled by hoards of tourists (there's an interesting, and mainly truthful, article here on tourism in Libya:
Yet again I tried to press some money on Abdul, but he reminded me that I was now a Libyan, and Libyans don't pay to see their own heritage. We stayed and chatted a while after the tour, and it transpired that Abdul knew Mohamed and Rajab's father - as most people do, I think: he used to be captain of the national Libyan football team!
We spent the remainder of the day on the beach near Tolmeita - Mohamed and Rajab hadn't discovered this hidden haven before - swimming, chatting, eating, and getting cooked. Mohamed told me that my problem was I didn't have enough melanin. How right he was - and the sun block wasn't as waterproof as I thought either, with cerise redefinition creeping up on my exposed torso over the afternoon.
The large structure I mentioned, and pictured, in an earlier blog is a monument to the Revolution. It was around here that the Leader and his select band of representatives of the people built their plans for the 1969 coup, and the grateful population erected the structure to show their appreciation. The house below (away from which I was guided last week) was where many of the meetings were held, and it is still used as a sort of dacha. This is why I was shooed away.
