Beirut Easter Eggs

Marsa-el-Brega was a small compound in the Libyan desert at the southern-most reach of the Gulf of Sirte. It was the terminal for Exxon's crude oil production and the location of one of the world's few major LNG (Liquefied Natural Gas) plants.

The LNG facility dominated the area physically. Two massive, white storage tanks with domed roofs rose a hundred feet out of the sand. Each was a tank within a tank, and could hold three tennis courts inside. Aluminum enshrouded towers a hundred feet tall, and flare stacks that roared with 200-foot flames completed the domination.

By 1974, Brega had 800 foreign workers and their dependants, mostly British and American. The entire region was different in those days. Beirut was the Paris of the Middle East, a great place to vacation, away from a country where citizens could be flogged for having a beer. Beirut was a popular destination until the spring of 1975, when it became synonymous with insane war and terrorism.

Restrictions on alcohol barely inhibited the expatriates living in Brega. A semi-official pamphlet called "The Blue Flame" detailed recipes for making beer, wine and "flash", a vodka-like drink distilled from fermented sugar water. Mix about twenty pounds of sugar into five gallons of water, add some bread yeast and put the stuff into a sealed container for about a month, and the sugar is converted to about a gallon of alcohol. The Blue Flame detailed ways to seal the container, and other refinements in the process.

The Blue Flame's primary value, however, was advice on building and operating a still to separate alcohol from water. Fermentation of sugar is an ancient process that is difficult to screw up to the point of being dangerous. With normal cleanliness, yeast doesn't turn sugar into anything harmful that doesn't also taste so bad that only a fool would drink enough to get sick.

Homemade stills are another story. Hot alcohol can leach poisonous metals from the boiling pot and piping if they are made of the wrong material. Hot alcohol vapors can also explode if ignited by a spark. One Brega resident learned this the hard way, blowing the kitchen wall out of his prefab house when his condenser failed. The story he told investigators was that he emptied a can of fly spray behind the stove and it ignited from the pilot light. Nobody believed him, but local police had an arrangement with Exxon to overlook such activities as long as nobody made it into a business or involved Muslims.

It was such mishaps that led the oil companies in Saudi to unofficially produce the booklet, widely distributed throughout the Middle East. It was named for the approved test for purity - lighting a spoonful of flash should give a clean, blue flame if it has no impurities. A yellow tipped or colored flame indicates something's wrong.

Brega residents shopped at a tiny community called The Crossroads, just outside the entrance to the compound. The half dozen tin-roofed shacks made of blocks of chalky caliche stone included a bakery and a shop that sold Cuban sugar in 110 pound burlap sacks. Most Bregans bought a sack per month, which gave the shop a higher volume of sugar sales than any supermarket in Houston, and gave Brega the highest per capita sugar consumption in the world. It was especially satisfying that the Libyan government subsidized the price, thereby unwittingly contributing to our booze production.

Harvey, a supervisor at the LNG plant and a true Irishman, had the gift of gab and love of drink that give the stereotype its resonance. In the spring of 1974, Harvey took his family on an Easter vacation to Beirut. After a week of nice restaurants and clean beaches (at least beaches with no globs of crude oil), they spent the last day shopping. With so many items unavailable in Brega, everyone returned from vacations with as much as their luggage would hold. Christmas presents for the kids, canned goods, shoes - anything to make the next few months in Brega a little more like home.

They passed a confectioner's shop, and the kids dragged Harvey in for bags of candy. Since it was Easter season, the display cases were full of chocolate eggs, artfully decorated and looking delicious.

The children clamored for eggs, but suitcase space was limited. Harvey insisted they choose small treats, but the shopkeeper began a pitch.

"Oh, Sahib, you cannot disappoint the little ones. I have very special eggs. See how beautiful they are."

"No, no. They're too big."

"Never mind, Sahib, I can make any size you want."

"Any size?"

"Yes, Sahib, any size. You have but to tell me and I will make for you."

"Wait right here."

Harvey left the family and dashed out. In a few minutes he returned, set a paper bag on the counter and took out two bottles of fine Hennesy cognac.

"Here, put two eggs around these."

"Right away, Sahib."

Despite the arrangement with police in Brega, Customs agents usually searched every bag, and often confiscated goods they considered contraband, especially liquor. But Harvey was willing to take the risk for fine cognac. They packed the colorful boxes with the big chocolate eggs among clothes beneath Mrs. Harvey's underwear. Some customs agents were embarrassed by the garments and wouldn't touch them.

Back in Benghasi, the family retrieved their luggage and approached Customs. Trying to be nonchalant, Harvey opened the suitcase with the eggs. This agent had no qualms about handling ladies underwear. He searched the entire bag, and Havey's heart sank as he took out one of the decorated boxes. His gaze locked with Harvey's as he slowly opened the box. A bead of sweat trickled down the back of Harvey's neck.

"What is this?" he asked still staring into Harvey's eyes.

"Um," stammered Harvey, "That's chocolate," he finally said, "for the babies."

"For the babies," the agent repeated, looking down at the box.

He slowly set the box beside the suitcase and opened it. He removed the chocolate egg and tipped it over for a closer look. The ‘glug glug glug' of the bottle inside was clearly audible.

Without a change of expression, the agent replaced the egg into the box, closed it and looked at Harvey.

"For the babies," he said, and replaced the box into the suitcase. With a contemptuous wave, he moved on to the next traveler.

To his close friends over the next few months, Harvey was a hero as he sparingly served real cognac on special occasions, and recounted the story of the Beirut Easter eggs.