In the Weeds by Tom Vitale

Author:Tom Vitale [Vitale, Tom]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Hachette Books
Published: 2021-09-28T00:00:00+00:00

THE NEXT MORNING DAMIEN WATCHED us loading up the vehicles, hands nonchalantly clasped behind his back in what Tony called the “I’m just an innocent bystander” pose.

“Hamid has informed us there’s a large-scale protest being planned for this afternoon,” Damien said. “Unsurprisingly, the local population is rather bent out of shape about yesterday’s assassination. We’ll have to be clear of the War Museum and downtown area before it begins. That will give us roughly an hour to film.”

Fuck. I’d been counting on Misrata being a more relaxed environment so we could catch our breath. There were two important scenes scheduled for today, and I didn’t want to rush through them. I traveled to location in the truck with Hamid.

“So, what do you guys do when not helping out film crews?” I asked, making small talk.

“We hunt down former Gaddafi supporters,” Hamid said. “Torture and kill the fuckers.”

“Ohh… okay… cool,” I said. Note to self: stay on Hamid’s good side.

Misrata’s War Museum was set up to honor the revolution and those lost fighting for freedom. Out front were a collection of tanks, mortars, RPGs, makeshift slingshots, a beached yacht, as well as Gaddafi’s famous sculpture of a golden fist crushing an American fighter jet. Inside was one large room, photos of the martyrs plastered floor to ceiling, on every wall. They looked like everyday people of all ages, including children. Below each face was a name and their date of death. Several families with children wandered, looking at the exhibits and taking pictures. Hamid walked Tony around the room telling him stories of the fallen. He’d known at least a dozen of them personally. In addition to the martyrs were improvised weapons used to fight Gaddafi, like a periscope constructed from PVC tubing and a makeup compact as well as a jury-rigged rocket launcher.

“This one is a homemade rifle,” Hamid said, pointing to a handgun with a two-by-four handle on one end and a pipe mounted to the other.

“Unbelievable,” Tony said, genuinely impressed. “You gotta have a lot of courage to go out with that as a weapon.”

“We had no other solution,” Hamid said.

Among the war trophies was a collection of personal items once belonging to Gaddafi, many taken from the Bab al-Aziziya compound in Tripoli. There was Gaddafi’s silver-and-gold-plated AK-47, gold-fringed china, a golden saber, and even what looked like chairs from the Golden Girls set.

“It seems whenever they kill a despot, turns out their things are always tacky,” Tony said. “Like a pimp.”

“This was Gaddafi’s shaving kit,” Hamid said, kicking what remained of a medium-sized Louis Vuitton suitcase. “He wore hair dye and beauty masks.” Among the items was a set of gold-plated combs and brushes, various hair and grooming products, and sure enough, a Deep Cleansing Pure Clay Formula Mudd Mask.

In one corner of the museum a TV was showing unedited cell phone footage of Gaddafi, bloodied, surrounded by a wild mob of revolutionaries. The graphic video played silently on a loop.

“Gaddafi’s lucky day,” Hamid said with a chuckle.

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