[...] The museum, I discovered, was a microcosm of the extraordinary revolutionary drama played out in Libya over the past two weeks. A couple of friendly rebels – Naiem and Islam – offered to show me around; they were guarding the building from looters. [...] The regime had calculated, correctly, that Nato was unlikely to bomb here. The loss to humanity had a missile struck would have been incalculable. Someone had carefully lain a Roman statue of Venus on a wooden palette; one of Gaddafi's soldiers had been sleeping next to her on a mattress. An inscription read: "Statue of Venus demure, II century AD." Venus's hair coiled exquisitely down both shoulders; a cushion propped up her bottom.
The statues originally adorned Emperor Hadrian's sumptuous bathhouse in Leptis Magna, the mighty Roman city east of Tripoli. Near a statue of a young man wearing a Greek-style robe I found a pair of abandoned size 42 army boots. The soldiers had also left uneaten baguettes, a wardrobe full of khaki clothing and a tube of toothpaste. There was an unfinished bowl of soup. They had left in a hurry.
Naiem told me how he and other locals liberated the museum on Sunday 21 August – the day the rebels surged into western Tripoli, and a popular insurrection erupted inside it. The Gaddafi soldiers were armed; the locals had no weapons other than a small harpoon used for fishing trips. "Gaddafi was mad. He had hid soldiers in hospitals, museums and schools," Naiem said. "They left their clothes here and ran away."
Not all escaped: the rebels captured two of Gaddafi's soldiers trying to flee. One, Naiem said, admitted he genuinely liked Gaddafi. The other, however, explained that his officers had told him he wasn't fighting fellow Libyans but was going to war against France, Britain and Nato. "He didn't know the truth," Islam said. Both soldiers were now in a rebel prison, their fate unclear in a city without a justice system.
In a room devoted to Sabratha – Libya's other stunning Roman city – I found a bust of Marcus Aurelius. He had been taken out of his niche and propped carefully against a wall. Nearby was a female bust from a Roman necropolis, her expression dignified and mournful. I discovered more soldiers' mattresses in a room of Neolithic grinding stones and panels of early Saharan rock art – their primitive strokes recognisable as palm trees. [...]
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