Thom Westcott

Rov in g Repor ter

“Land Rovers are few and far between, so this Series III parked up under some palm trees is a rare sight indeed”

Within a couple of days of arriving back in Libya, I am invited on a little touristy jaunt. Excursions in postconflict areas often afford the rare pleasure of having historic sites almost exclusively to oneself, so I jump at the chance.

Our destination today is the ancient city of Leptis Magna, one of the best-preserved Roman city ruins on the Mediterranean. Originally established by Berbers and Phoenicians, Leptis Magna was later expanded into a sprawling city of impressive proportions by the Romans, featuring its own port, a pretty theatre and a massive amphitheatre for blood-thirsty Roman ‘entertainments’. I’ve visited the ruins before but never with a guide, and my friend Debbie has arranged to take expert Libyan historian Yusef with us, to fill in all the historic blanks.

In the car park at Leptis Magna, there’s a nice Series III parked up under some palm trees. You can scarce pass more than a few road miles along Tripoli’s coast, where much of the population lives, without seeing the ubiquitous Toyota pick-up, but Land Rovers are few and far between, so this vehicle is a rare sight indeed.

Knowing Debbie’s penchant for organisation, punctuality and not deviating from plans, I rush over before she can intercept me, to find its proud owner Mustafa drinking tea with a couple of friends on the grass nearby.

Mustafa is a cool chap dressed in blue denim, with a quick smile behind his shades, and an amazing mop of curly North African hair, sporting a hairstyle that went out of fashion with the demise of Muammar Qaddafi. Despite the fleeting resemblance to one of the world’s most famously eccentric erstwhile dictators, Libyan flags taped to the Land Rover’s rear door and side panels declare him to be a firm supporter of the ‘new Libya,’ which has left many here with an extremely bitter taste in their mouths.

Its paintwork – a lovely shade of dark army green, with a cream roof – is in very good condition for Libya. And it sports one original little round wing mirror, as well as the functional Defender-style ones most of us have added to our Series vehicles so we can actually see what is happening on the road behind us – normally a trail of cars desperately hoping to overtake. It has all its lights, a rarity for old vehicles here – a little ladder up to the roof and the addition of a metal frame on the rear door designed to hold a military-issue jerrycan, of which I am most envious.

Mustafa and I engage in a stilted conversation in Arabic about Land Rovers, which makes me proud that, if nothing else, I am now reasonably competent with Arabic numbers. I am certain that his Land Rover is from 1979 and he bought it in 2003.

And in those ensuing 15 years, he has clearly lavished it with attention, keeping it in far better condition than I have managed with mine. It is lovingly scattered with traditional handmade Libyan soft furnishings, with a Libyan flag scarf stretched over the dashboard and even a Libyan flag air freshener swinging from the rear view mirror. It also has an interestingly and extensively padded interior, done in what looks like faux leather, almost matching the colours of the exterior – cream for the top and black for the lower sections. I’d love to know if it’s some sort of sound-proofing and, if so, how effective it is, or whether it’s just for show. But my Arabic is failing me, and Debbie is frantically waving at me. My time is up, so I show Mustafa a photo of my Lightweight by way of exchange before running after them.

We spend the next three hours being led around Leptis Magna by Yousef, who regales us with fascinating facts – not least that the Romans enjoyed the dubious pleasures of shared toilets, allowing them to defecate next to one another whilst engaging in interesting discourse. Yousef knows the site so well, he points out where the stonemason tasked with cutting the s***holes into expensive marble made a mistake in his calculations and marked out one hole too close to another. His error, scored into the marble, has been on show for over 2000 years.

Much to my surprise, when we finally emerge, the Land Rover is still there and Mustafa is lying in wait for me, with a coloured map depicting Leptis Magna in all its imagined former glory and a great collection of dusty pre-2011 postcards, dating back to the era of the Great Libyan Arab Jumahiriya, when Libya’s oil-rich economy was boosted by receiving thousands of tourists every year. I am immensely moved by the gift, which is typical of the wonderful Arab hospitality which has made me completely ashamed of the cup of PG Tips and a few Rich Tea biscuits which is the extent of most British hospitality.

We exchange numbers and I promise to call him when I’m next in the area, so we can talk at length about Land Rovers, before we pile back into Debbie’s car to head to our second tourist destination of the day. Despite the second- degree sunburn I later discover on the back of my neck, it has been a fantastic and fascinating day, and a pleasure to meet a fellow Land Rover enthusiast in this land of Toyotas.

Thom Westcott is a British freelance journalist who has written for the Times and Guardian, and now mostly spends her time reporting from Libya.