4. Colonel Gaddafi and Sannappa

Near our house, there is an orchard. A photographer friend from Hampi, Shivashankar Banagar, often visits it. One day, he came to our house and said, “Sir, you travel far and wide in search of artists. But there is a unique personality very close to you—Sannappa. He has lived in Libya and speaks Arabic. You must meet him.” I responded, “Why wait? Let’s go right away.” So, both of us went to Sannappa’s orchard. He had cultivated vegetables on his ancestral land, which was located in the middle of the village. There was also a Jambu Nerale (black plum) tree in his orchard. He plucked a cluster of grape-like fruits from the tree and gave them to us. As we relished the fruit, we engaged in conversation with him and looked at the pictures in his album. Sannappa, a native of Hosapete, had migrated to Mumbai years ago in search of work. From there, he made his way to Libya, a country in the Sahara Desert in Africa. In Libya, he worked as a truck driver for teams of engineers engaged in the petroleum extraction industry. Among the many stories he shared, four aspects stood out: 1. The terrifying sandstorms of the Sahara. 2. The immense popularity of Gaddafi. 3. The public participation of Libyan women, particularly their military training and role as Gaddafi’s commandos. 4. The American conspiracy to assassinate Gaddafi for plundering Libya’s oil. Sannappa deeply admired Gaddafi. He wished to see him in person. When Gaddafi once visited the oil fields for inspection, Sannappa expressed his desire to catch a glimpse of him. His colleagues warned, “You are a foreigner. The security personnel will stop you.” But Sannappa was determined. “Why should they stop me? I am his admirer,” he said. He dressed in Arab attire and stood among the locals, successfully catching sight of Gaddafi. Due to the COVID-19 pandemic, I could not visit Sannappa’s orchard again to hear more about his experiences in Libya. Three years later, Uday Itagi, a fellow writer from our district, sent me his book Libya Diary. While reading it, I felt that Uday, as a conscious writer, had articulated the same experiences that Sannappa had shared with me. Uday had worked as an English professor in Libya. Listening to Sannappa’s stories and reading Uday’s book made me reflect on the sources of our “knowledge” about the world, especially about Africa, China, and the Muslim countries of the Middle East. How and why did we receive this knowledge? Indians have gained an understanding of different parts of the world through three main sources: 1. In ancient times, through soldiers, kings, traders, and saints who traveled to and from these lands. 2. From travelogues and accounts written by those who went abroad for work or exploration. 3. Through literature and media shaped by the interests of European or American colonial and imperialist powers. The problem lies with the third source. This version of knowledge is embedded with religious bias, racial hatred, and capitalist interests. It portrays the world through the lens of Western self-interest—exploiting natural resources, establishing companies, flooding markets with their goods, and using local human resources as cheap labor. It constructs a narrative of “knowledge” that serves its own motives. Western media and literature demonize national leaders or governments that resist their influence, branding them as dictators and tyrants. This demonization ultimately leads to wars and violence. Colonel Gaddafi and Iraq’s Saddam Hussein were both assassinated through this very process. Even Cuba’s Fidel Castro was subjected to similar vilification. Most Indian media and academic textbooks have uncritically accepted and propagated these Western narratives as absolute truth. The fact that Indian expatriates in the US revered Donald Trump—the same man who had insulted India as a “filthy country”—is a stark example of this phenomenon. However, attempts are also being made to break such preconceived stereotypical images. This has been possible due to radical intellectuals like Edward Said or Noam Chomsky in Western countries or individuals like Shannappa or Uday, who have lived in these countries and recorded their experiences. In this context, we must also remember Kannada writers like Kanakaraju, who have been writing about Arab nations. One of the unique aspects of Uday’s Libya Diary (2018), which challenges the prejudices imposed on nations, is that it does not conceal Gaddafi’s dictatorship. It critically examines how his decision to ban English from the education system, in an attempt to resist Western imperialist schemes, was a misstep. However, the book also highlights, through data and personal experiences, how he, as a nationalist, protected the country’s wealth from being looted by Western nations and ensured comfort and stability for his people. Thus, this book is not just a portrayal of Gaddafi but also a critique of America's economic and political interests and war strategies (as indicated by its descriptive subtitle: The Secret Behind the Assassination of Mohammad Gaddafi). In this regard, we must recall an incident from when Nelson Mandela visited the United States for the first time after becoming the President of South Africa and attended a UN event. During a press conference, an American journalist asked him:"You fought against apartheid for the freedom of Black people. However, you have maintained ties with individuals like Arafat, Gaddafi, and Castro, who have a poor human rights record. Isn’t this contradictory?" Mandela’s response was: "Some people assume that their enemies are the enemies of the entire world and that their friends should be everyone’s friends. They forget that every nation has the right to choose its allies based on its own interests. When we fought against white supremacy and colonial rule, the very countries you now call ‘evil’ supported us morally." Uday’s book, written in a simple and engaging narrative, has minor flaws such as repetition. However, it offers political awareness and presents world events from the right perspective. It serves as a travelogue, a personal memoir, and a historical account. The chapter on Umar Mukhtar, the legendary Lion of the Desert, is particularly remarkable. The book also poignantly analyzes the struggles of Indian migrant workers who leave their families behind to work abroad. Regardless of language, religion, culture, or history, wherever human suffering exists, compassionate souls are present—these are the true oases in the desert. In this sense, the book is also a vivid depiction of Libyan life. As Indians, we have unfortunately reached a state where our understanding of the religions, food habits, and traditions of those living around us is shaped by media controlled by capitalists and religious fundamentalists. This is a tragic extension of the Euro-American perspective that dominates our education system’s worldview. In such a time, Uday’s experience-based book serves as an eye-opener and challenges biases. By the end of the book, one cannot help but wonder how it would have been if writers like Sannappa had also penned similar works. Rahamat Tarikere Renowned Critic Retired Professor Kannada University, Hampi