Gaza-bound aid convoy stranded near Sirte, Libya after being blocked by local militias

Hundreds of travelers in a Gaza-bound convoy are stuck near Sirte, Libya, forced to ration water and rebuild camp infrastructure — but refusing to abandon their mission.

"We have been here for four days," says South African writer and academic Jessica Breakey in a voice note sent from the Libyan desert, where she and hundreds of volunteers remain stranded as they attempt to deliver aid to Gaza. In the background, people can be heard chatting, organizing, and singing songs for Palestine.

"There are no toilets. But this is a really interesting, significant story about something that's happening at the top of Africa. And that no one is really talking about."

The Mission

Breakey is part of a hundreds-strong caravan attempting to reach Gaza by road to deliver:

• Ambulances
• Medical supplies
• Baby formula
• Food
• Reconstruction materials

She sends voice notes whenever the signal holds, taking advantage of brief moments when communications are not jammed. Those fragments, sent from one of the most dangerous regions in the world, tell a story of courage, solidarity, and determined resistance.

The Global Sumud Flotilla

The land convoy is part of the wider Global Sumud Flotilla initiative — a civilian effort to challenge Israel's siege of Gaza by sea and land. Organizers say the point of the flotilla is not only to deliver aid, but to confront the systems that have created this humanitarian crisis:

• The siege
• Israeli occupation
• The international complicity that sustains both

The convoy's ultimate destination is Gaza. For now, they are simply trying to reach Rafah. The crossing point near Palestine's border with Egypt, they argue, should function as a people's corridor — not a gate opened and closed at the will of Israeli authorities charged with carrying out genocide.

The Route

The route itself is part of the action: a moving act of solidarity across North Africa aimed at building public pressure and awareness at a time when media attention has shifted away from the crisis in Palestine.

The journey began in Mauritania in the Western Sahara, moving through:

• Morocco
• Algeria
• Tunisia
• Libya

In Tripoli, international participants including Breakey gathered in a camp to prepare the ambulances, trucks, and aid. The convoy moved through western Libya, stopping in the "beautiful town" of Zliten, where residents lined the streets, welcomed them into a mosque, and fed them. There, Nelson Mandela's grandson and fellow convoy traveler Mandla Mandela addressed a press conference, linking the mission to the anti-apartheid tradition of international solidarity.

Stranded Near Sirte

The convoy is now stranded near Sirte, in an area still marked by Libya's years of war and political fragmentation. After negotiating its way through previous stops and roadblocks, Libyan militias manning the checkpoint outside Sirte made clear the convoy would not be allowed to continue.

"We were told to pull over," Breakey says. "And that is where we have been for four days."

They are now stuck at what Breakey describes as "a small petrol station in the middle of the desert, with abandoned buildings in a former war zone." It is hot and windy. Food and water are being rationed. There is no sanitation.

Improvised Community

With no toilets, convoy participants pooled their diverse skills to build them. "They went and made pipes," Breakey says. "They fixed the lights, they fixed the electrical, they fixed the plumbing." No one gave orders. "They just did it. And they're doing it for the whole community."

The camp, Breakey says, has become a small, improvised study in collective care under pressure. Comrades, friends, and fellow travelers from around the world have gathered in a desert in North Africa to create a moment of truly international solidarity — an example of what is possible when ordinary people spontaneously self-organize.

Key Voices in the Convoy

Bilal, a chef from Algeria, has become the soul of the camp. Even with food running low and rations being carefully shared, he is always by the fire, always cooking, always making people laugh. He told Breakey that his "big dream" is to go to Gaza and cook for the people there to share his heritage. His mother was a cook, his grandfather was a cook, and he has cooked himself since he was a toddler.

Felipe, a 29-year-old philosophy student from Chile who is half-Palestinian, says the convoy's diversity is its strength. The more people join from different backgrounds, he told Breakey, the more creative and powerful the movement becomes.

"We don't even need to speak the same language," Breakey recalls him saying. "We have developed a common language — and shared aims for Palestine."

Eya, a Tunisian architect, tells Breakey she did not become an architect to build "big fancy buildings," but to work in post-war reconstruction. That is why she is here: "To rebuild people's homes after genocide."