When The Dictators Fall
The year is 2011, well past the first decade of the 21st century. We have supposedly come a long way from the days of kings and princes, and transformed into the modern world of presidents and prime ministers, where people are to choose their leaders by an instrument called election. Yet, he was a prince, designated to be the successor of his father, who had deposed a king only to assume the role himself, although called himself the President of his country.
The young prince had his education in the London School of Economics, earning a PhD, and had earned the reputation of a modern day reformer by engaging himself in benevolent acts. But when the time came that would test his mettle, he turned a faithful obliging supporter of his dictator father taking part in crushing his own people.
He was a brave leader, who announced on national television that he would fight for his country till the last drop of blood drains his body. He was full in vim and vigor, resolute in his promise, yet, when his captors zeroed on him he meekly surrendered without firing a single bullet. Like an obedient servant he complied with the order of his captors, and let them take over several Kalashnikov rifles and a hand grenade—he was the prince charming Saif al-Islam Gaddafi, the most brazen son of Cornell Gaddafi.
“At the beginning he was very scared. He thought we would kill him.”said Ahmed Ammar, one of the 15 Libyan fighters who captured Saif al-Islam.
Afraid? This rubble rousing patriotic Lion-of-Libya afraid of a few young ragtag army of ordinary Libyans? Did he not say in his own words that he would fight to the last? Did he not promise to squash the freedom fighters like bugs?
Continued on the next page
Follow Technorati