The jeep stopped in the sand.
Salem opened the doors. Terry and Mohammed got out –
Salem went to speak with soldiers dressed in black fatigues.
It was cold out here and Terry wished he had brought his coat.
Salem came back over to the jeep. Salem said, ‘Follow me.’
Terry and Mohammed followed Salem inside the big, black Bedouin tent. Through dim doorways in black walls past bright rooms through more dim doorways in other black walls to a bigger, brighter room –
Salem stopped here. Salem turned to them and said, ‘Please wait.’
Terry and Mohammed waited among the cushions and the carpets. Terry stared at the walls and the floor. The shadows and the light. Terry waited for Salem –
For Salem and Colonel Muammar al-Gadhafi –
The Leader of the Revolution.
Salem came back inside. Men with guns followed him. Men with cameras –
The men stood to either side of the doorway with their guns and cameras –
Their guns and cameras trained on Terry. Pointed at Terry. Rolling –
Three. Two. One and, Action –
Colonel Muammar al-Gadhafi entered the room. He went over to Terry Winters. The Colonel put out his hand. Terry Winters shook the Colonel’s hand –
Terry Winters embraced the Colonel. Terry Winters kissed the Colonel –
The Colonel gestured to the cushions. The Colonel called for mint tea.
Terry sat down beside the Colonel. Terry drank mint tea with the Colonel.
The Colonel smiled at Terry Winters. The Colonel spoke to Terry Winters –
Salem translated. Terry listened. The cameras rolled again –
The Colonel had agreed to meet Terry. The Colonel was pleased to meet Terry. The Colonel was always pleased to meet fellow trade unionists. The Colonel had agreed to listen to Terry. The Colonel was pleased to listen to Terry. The Colonel was always pleased to listen to fellow trade unionists –
The Colonel stopped speaking. Salem stopped translating. Terry started speaking –
Salem started translating again. The Colonel listened –
Terry spoke of the strike. The threat to their jobs. Their pits. Their communities. The use of the police and the law. The brutality. The arrests. The beatings. The kidnap. The torture. The sieges. The suffering. The poverty. The hunger. The struggle –
Terry spoke of the hopes for his visit. That the trade unions of Libya support their struggle by any means necessary. That exports of oil to Britain for use in oil-fired power stations be banned. That attempts to improve British trade links with Libya be boycotted. That all trade and training with the National Coal Board be blacked. That the people of Libya and the Leader of their Revolution support the members of the National Union of Mineworkers and its president in their revolutionary struggle to defeat the Fascism of the Thatcher government. By any means necessary –
Terry Winters stopped speaking. Salem stopped translating.
The Colonel stood up. Terry stood up.
The Colonel gave Terry Winters three copies of his Little Green Book.
Terry thanked the Colonel many times. Terry shook his hand again. Many times.
The Colonel left the room. Terry and Mohammed left the fort with Salem.
The jeep took them back to Tripoli. Through the desert and the end of the night –
The dawn rising out of the desert with the city. Like a mirage, thought Terry –
‘— I fly for refuge unto the Lord of the Daybreak,’ quoted Salem from the Koran. ‘That he may deliver me from those things of mischief which he hath created —’
Terry nodded. He had never seen a dawn like it in his life. It was extraordinary –
The dawn. The stars. The food. The people. Their leader. The whole country –
‘People back home could have seen me with the Colonel,’ said Terry –
‘Terry Winters and Colonel Gadhafi,’ he laughed. ‘They’d never believe it.’
Mohammed and Salem laughed. Mohammed and Salem put their thumbs up.
The jeep came through Green Square. The jeep stopped outside the Al-Kabir.
Terry and Mohammed got out. Salem had places to go. Salem said goodbye –
‘And thank you,’ said Terry Winters. ‘That was the best night of my life.’
Martin
now is a riddle. Lady Luck smiles for once. Next door’s rabbit died and bloke lets me have hutch. Ideal that. Like a bloody riddle kit. Mesh and wood off hutch. Use hacksaw on it. Bang four pieces into a square. Tack mesh onto bottom — That’s my riddle. I’m set — Both good and bad time to start up, though. It’s getting cold so there’s a demand — There’s a demand because there’s no free coal. No concessionary coal — Means there are more folk at it, though. Lot have been doing it since start. That means all best stuff’s gone from yard. No easy pickings — Board are having clampdown on security and all. Because of all vandalism — Big riot in Grimethorpe week before when all South Yorkshire coppers pulled a load of lads who were at it. Pigs are all over place anyway because of Geoff the Scab and his mates — It’s bloody dangerous, too. Not forget that — Lad already died at Upton. Fourteen-year-old — But what you going to do? Live off a quid a picket and hope for a bit from petrol money? — I’ve been going in car with Tim and Gary again this past week or so. I asked them if they fancy coming with me — Make a proper job of it on weekend. Bit of brass for themselves — Jump at chance. Tim says a mate of his was nicked in yard by this copper from Met. Didn’t charge him or anything. But bastard made him tip out what he’d got. Night’s work down drain. Gary says they’ve got Alsatians up there, too. Set them on you — Three of us decide it’s best to stick to spoil. Right up on top of heap is best place, too. Dig a fucking hole up there. Bottom of that is where your bloody nuggets are — Hard fucking work, spoil is. But least with three of us we can rotate jobs a bit, though. First thing is to get to bloody stuff. Have to dig through all dust that’s been pressed and packed down on top. There’s always a good foot or so of that. Then comes softer muck. Load of that. Maybe four foot or more. Best stuff is under that. Then you get riddle out and go to work with sieving. Take it in turns to shovel and sieve. One with shovel and two with riddles. Fucking back-breaking, it is. Not alone up here, either, like bloody Gold Rush on top of here, it is. First day here we realized we needed a bigger riddle. Did well enough, but knew we could do a lot fucking better. Flogged what we had. Brass we made we bought some more wood, more mesh and more bags. Made this six-foot bloody riddle. Huge it is. Today we’re doing a bag every quarter of an hour. Six big shovel loads of stuff on riddle at a time. Fill a bag every fifteen minutes. Do sixty bags over weekend. Eight-hour days, like. Hard fucking days, too. Flog each bag for two quid a pop — That’s forty quid each. Forty fucking quid — Take orders for next week and all. Like a proper fucking business — Daft thing is, I’ve got this forty quid in my pocket. I don’t know what to do with it — I buy twenty Park Drive and a pint. Have a bag of chips on way home — That’s it. Lie down on floor under my coat and I’m straight out — That bloody knackered, hands that bloody raw. Like a light — Fragments come away under my tread. Fragments fall— I wake up under blanket on bedroom floor. Middle of night. I get up. I go down Welfare — Day 239. I get my orders from envelope. I go and do my picket. Kiveton Park again today. I take Tim and Gary and this other young lad. I drive down back roads and side-streets. I park car a good two mile or so from pit gates. I fall in and walk with rest of lads. I take abuse from police on way to front with rest of lads. Krk-krk.I get stopped and searched for fireworks with rest of lads. I get to front with rest of lads. I stand in dark and cold with rest of lads. I squint into their searchlights with rest of lads. I blink with rest of lads. I tell television crews to fuck off home with rest of lads. I hear scab bus coming up lane with rest of lads. I push with rest of lads. I shove with rest of lads. I shout with rest of lads. I call them what they are with rest of lads. I call them scabs with rest of lads. I watch their bus go in with rest of lads. I listen to coppers laugh and chant and bang their shields with rest of lads. I turn and walk away with rest of lads. I take abuse from police on way back to car with rest of lads. I drive Tim and Gary back to Thurcroft with that other young lad. I go in Welfare with most of lads. I get