The trip to Derna, a city in Libya, now takes twice as long.
As you leave Benghazi, landscapes transform into rust-red lakes. The flow of traffic slows as you approach. Floodwaters took telegraph poles out of the ground, and they now lie randomly. On hurriedly dug detours dug by diggers, cars slither around holes in the highway.
One of the nearby bridges to Derna has totally disappeared due to flooding. Locals look over and take pictures as they stand close to the rough tarmac cliff.
Not far away, troops stop each car and give the driver and each passenger a face mask. They are worn by everyone moving in the opposite way, and you quickly see why.
In some areas of the city, there is a scent of death that is nearly impossible to explain. Your nostrils are filled with it; part of it smells like sewage and part of it is harder to place.
When you stand facing the harbor where recovery crews tell me bodies are still washing up, it can sometimes be so powerful it makes you queasy.
They discovered three that morning. They get caught in the piles of garbage that are slowly decomposing in the seawater after being carried in by the tide.
Tyres, refrigerators, full automobiles lifted and deposited on top of dispersed sea defenses, and pieces of broken wood all mix and swirl in the still water.
Graphic and frightening images and videos have been released from Derna.
However, seeing them does help you understand the extent of the harm that the floods have caused to this area. The river’s line is now gaping like an open wound, at times measuring possibly a hundred meters. Nothing at all is left on these mud mounds. It is a desolate wilderness.
The water has a remarkable capacity for destruction.
Automobiles are seen lying around carelessly on their sides or upside down, like toys. One has been completely shoved into the terrace that encircles the recognizable Al Sahaba Mosque. Another is entirely suspended in the air and set into a building’s side.
Block walls composed of heavy concrete have collapsed. Strong trees that had roots curling into the air have been uprooted. But everything else is gone.
Not only were thousands of individuals washed away, but also their houses, belongings, and lives. This region of Derna is free of humanity.
The survivors’ way of life will never be the same. Huge sorrow and tangible fury are present.
In the rushing floods, Faris Ghassar lost five family members.
He sobs, “We were told to stay inside our homes.” “Why? They ought to have informed us of the storm and the dam’s deteriorating age.
Some of these demolished structures were more than a century old. Everything is political. There are governments in both the east and the west. It’s a major issue.
The ten-month-old daughter of Faris was one among the victims. To show me their photos, he reaches for his phone. Their bodies were gently wrapped in blankets after they had been alive, their features displaying their suffering.
As we converse, a group of ministers is touring the catastrophe area. One of Libya’s two competing governments, the eastern one, is where they come from. The infrastructure of the nation has been destroyed by their conflict.
For his family, according to Faris, this has been fatal.
How could this occur when the dams were intended to keep people safe, I questioned Osama Hamad, the prime minister of the eastern region?
He told me that the cyclone was really powerful. Too powerful for the dams. This is both nature and Allah.
There are rumors of a complete evacuation of Derna floating throughout the streets.
Those that remain in the city are up against the elements, and access to clean water and healthcare is limited. The difficulties facing the survivors of the terrible storm are only getting worse over a week later.
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