Around the World
A Vote Decades in the Making
Libyan Americans have the first and final say in this historic election. By Meha Ahmad
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“We had the first ballots—the one that said ‘00001,’” says Cyrine Kebhaj, 22, a volunteer for the vote held at city hotel. Although the election day in Libya was July 7, Libyan Americans had the advantage: the polling station in Washington, D.C. opened the morning of July 3 and ended on the evening of July 7, giving voters more time to travel and cast their vote. “When we told the first person who came to vote—I believe his name was Adam, he was actually a revolutionary who fought in the revolution in Libya in Tripoli—the emotional reaction that flew out of him was one of the biggest that I saw. He was only around 23 years old, but he was fighting for something he and his whole family believed in. […] He was crying, and saying, ‘Allahu Akbar.’” For American-born Dania Shafei, 18, she voted in the Libyan election before her first U.S. election. “I felt like every vote counted. We are only a population of six million,” Shafei says. “In the future, I will be able to say, ‘I was one of the first to vote in the first election ever in Libya,’” Shafei says. She says she was proud to be a part of it, and that this marks a new beginning for Libya, and that many can already feel the difference. “[Libya has] become a country that has gone through so much and been able to win,” Shafei says. “I feel like this revolution has brought everyone closer together. They were able to get together and work 46
with each other. From what I’ve heard, you can sense [in Libya] the fact that there is no more negativity or fear there. You can speak your mind.” On the morning of July 7, some had to make the decision to either make their way to D.C. to cast their vote, or forever (at least until the next election) hold their peace. “It was kind of last-minute. We woke up at Fajr, trying to figure out what we were going to do,” says Abdulrahman Aduib, a Libyan American from Chicago. Aduib, his twin brother, and both of his parents flew to D.C. for only a few hours before flying back the same day. At least, that was the plan. “My brother and I actually got stranded in
Although there are an estimated 20,000 Libyan Americans in the U.S., there was only one polling location to serve all of them—and one not even centrally located.
Photo credit Sara Jawhari
ast-minute flights to D.C. were booked as many made their way to the single U.S. polling station set up for Libyan Americans to cast their votes in the historic Libyan elections. Amid tears of joy for the future, and sorrow for past atrocities remembered, both the first and last vote in the first-ever Libyan elections weren’t even cast in Libya—they both took place on U.S. soil.
Libyan Americans Noor, Salwa and Yahia Tagouri pose after casting their votes in D.C.
D.C.,” he says. But that wasn’t nearly enough to bring him down from the high of voting in the Libyan election. “I had a constant grin on my face. I just couldn’t believe what I was experiencing. You could not say anything to take the smile off my face.” Aduib says he took time to revel in a moment that was decades in the making— decades members of his own family have spent away from their home country and who have felt the separation keenly. “My father didn’t see his father for 30 years. My mother didn’t even know about her two brothers passing away until months later. They suffered through the [Gaddafi] regime. They might not have been put in prison, but they had their own suffering,” Aduib says. Aduib says his parents’ happiness fed his own. “I just soaked in my mother’s expression. It’s more than happiness. Your whole life you’re told to sacrifice. But to actually see the physical manifestation of your sacrifice, there’s nothing like it,” Aduib says. For many, the novelty of knowing names on the ballot acted as another almost overwhelming dose of the momentous reality. “When I opened the ballot and I read the names, there were actually names I knew,”
Islamic Horizons September/October 2012