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Our Man in Tripoli
By lex, on September 2nd, 2011
It seems that we were previously acquainted:
(Abdel Hakim Belhaj ) was detained by Malaysian officials in 2004 on arrival at the Kuala Lumpur airport, where he was subjected to extraordinary rendition on behalf of the United States, and sent to Thailand. His pregnant wife, traveling with him, was taken away, and his child would be 6 before he saw him.
In Bangkok, Mr. Belhaj said, he was tortured for a few days by two people he said were C.I.A. agents, and then, worse, they repatriated him to Libya, where he was thrown into solitary confinement for six years, three of them without a shower, one without a glimpse of the sun.
Now this man is in charge of the military committee responsible for keeping order in Tripoli, and, he says, is a grateful ally of the United States and NATO.
And while Mr. Belhaj concedes that he was the emir of the Libyan Islamic Fighting Group, which was deemed by the United States to be a terrorist group allied with Al Qaeda, he says he has no Islamic agenda. He says he will disband the fighters under his command, merging them into the formal military or police, once the Libyan revolution is over.
He says there are no hard feelings over his past treatment by the United States.
Well, isn’t that jolly.
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Hey Abdel Hakim Belhaj, nice of you to harbor no ill feelings. . .Your Libyan Islamic Fighting Group, is that some sort of MMA thing?
So, no American hating Muslim extremists in Libya. That’s a first.
Some leaders lie.
He may be one of them. After all, it is considered good etiquette for jihadis to lie to infidels.
Predator strike. NOW.
“One can believe as much or as little of his assurances as one wishes.”
A little briticism I picked up from a widowed English lady somewhat older than my mother; who was an expatriate in Palma, Majorca; at little party she and a number of her friends threw for our wardroom more years ago than I care to remember.
I remember that handy phrase, a great deal of gin and tonic at no cost, and singing Welsh hymns accompanied by a piano with Churchill’s framed picture on it.
Not much else, I’m afraid.
I wish I’d known her longer and better when I was even younger, and single, though.
Lovely voice…knew all the words. Fabulous legs…kept her figure too.
Brilliant woman, absolutely brilliant.
Swell party.
“…more years ago than I care to remember.”
Or should that read “than I care to admit.”
Or, perhaps, “able to remember.”
One and two – yes, the third, not just yet.
Doubtless that too will come.
No hard feelings? Ya, I just bet!
For some reason, I’m betting, we will probably be forced to recall his name again.