MY FATHER AND QADDAFI

When Jihan was six years old, her father flew to Cairo and never returned. Mansur Rashid Kikhia was the Foreign Minister of Libya, ambassador to the United Nations, and a human rights lawyer. After serving in Qaddafi's increasingly brutal regime, he defected from the government and became the leader of the peaceful opposition. For many, Kikhia was a rising star who could have been the next leader of Libya, however, in 1993 he disappeared from his hotel in Egypt.

Jihan’s mother Baha Al Omary, a strong-willed Syrian-American artist, began searching for him, launching the family into an international political maze. Her mission to find justice brought her to the Libyan desert in the middle of the night, face to face with Qaddafi to negotiate her husband’s release. Yet it wasn’t until after the regime’s fall, 19 years later, that his body was found in a freezer near Qaddafi’s palace.

My Father and Qaddafi takes the audience on a raw and reflective journey as Jihan pieces together a father she barely remembers, while discovering the troubled history and politics of Libya. Her journey starts from fading personal memories, leading to encounters with family members, her father’s peers, and historical archive footage. 

Hoping at first to uncover the truth, Jihan instead transforms the mystery into a curiosity that brings her closer to her father and her Libyan identity. She approaches politics not as a distant subject, but as a lived experience that penetrates into every human relationship - even between a little girl and her father.

I don’t want my father to disappear a second time. I feel an urgency to overcome my void in the midst of Libya’s relentless chaos and instability, which I fear will eventually bury my Libyan identity.  In my documentary film, My Father and Qaddafi, I search through other people’s memories trying to create a clearer picture of my father who I don’t remember.

Making this documentary helps me understand the importance of a father figure and the impact of losing a father on a family, a community, and even a country. If my father was alive today, he would be 94 years old, sharing his untold story is also sharing an untold story of Libya, one that spans almost 100 years of Libyan history and politics. His legacy gives me unique access to my father’s generation, to Libyan former government officials and opposition members. These men take the opportunity to reflect honestly with me over our lost Libya and our future. I wish I could ask my father, how did we end up like this? And how is Libya going to break free from this cycle of trouble?  

As I reconstruct my father’s portrait, I plant the seed for a deeper, more honest connection with him and to free my hidden voice. Instead of compartmentalizing my father as a one-dimensional hero from the past, I search for the man behind the myth and try to reintegrate him into my present life as a human being and a loving father. The wound of his disappearance begins to transform into new possibilities.

Since I was 6 years old, my mother told us the truth, and although this has tempered the shock, I still struggle with a constant surreal feeling. Despite my fragmented memories, my fears, and my cultural limitations in Libyan society, I am trying to overcome this surreal feeling and reconnect with my father and with Libya on my own terms, as an open hearted woman. This is one of the ways I am hoping to hold my father before he disappears completely from my memory and even potentially from Libya’s memory.

- Jihan

My Father and Qaddafi sheds light on Mansur Rashid Kikhia’s case and the thousands of other cases of enforced disappearance in Libya. The lack of closure is a nightmare for families of disappeared victims. Through Jihan’s personal lens, audiences get a glimpse into the families’ perpetual tension, confusion, and sense of powerlessness, while also inspired by their resilience. Jihan’s journey reveals the challenges of retracing and honoring the life of one human being, and how political movements can harm the families left behind. 

Mansur’s case reflects the continuous social and political divides in the MENA region. When he disappeared in 1993, Mansur was one of the most influential and visionary members of his generation to be silenced. Qaddafi’s 42-year rule disrupted several generations of Libyans, who continue to suffer with the country’s unrelenting troubles and instability, even after the fall of the regime. Jihan seeks more context and ventures into Libyan history, starting with the Italian colonization of Libya, the discovery of oil, continuous foreign intervention, and Qaddafi’s absolute power that suffocated the country into isolation for decades. His cult of personality veiled the collective memory of life before his rule, leaving many like Jihan, still piecing together the fragments of their Libyan identity.

In addition, the film challenges the common misconception of Arab women as stifled victims. One of the documentary’s main characters is Baha, Jihan’s mother, who shares how she navigated Libya’s patriarchal, tribal society and male-dominated international politics. Baha maintained a piercing and unapologetic focus on her mission, while honoring the humanity of her machismo adversaries. 

The film’s relevancy reaches beyond the MENA region as it examines the long-term impact of totalitarian regimes and how they can destroy civil society and even hijack one’s sense of self. Jihan addresses questions such as, “What do justice and rebuilding look like in the aftermath of a disappearance?” The documentary is a timely and important part of ongoing global conversations about the rise, inner workings, and aftermath of dictatorships.