Death released its grip on Awad at the last moment. On September 11, just as the body bag in which he had been placed was about to be closed, a spasm alerted Derna's funeral services and they realized he was still in the world of the living. Overnight, the flooding of the Wadi Derna had swept away a third of this Libyan city of 100,000 inhabitants, pulverizing or hurling entire housing blocks into the sea.

Panicked and in shock, two days later the Egyptian restaurant worker was taken to the town's Technical Institute. The two-story building and its large garden, which is separated from the street by high walls, house migrant workers and families – mostly Egyptians and Sudanese. Taped to the entrance gate, five sheets of paper list 150 missing persons. A sixth shows the smiling faces of three young men, including a baker at work, and telephone numbers to call in case of news of them.

Psychologists from the city's psychiatric hospital warned: "These young and old are among the most psychologically destroyed by the disaster. They have experienced the same scenes of horror as many of us. But they are isolated and can't count on family solidarity." There are 40,000 displaced people in the city.

Feverish, his face scarred, his forearms and hands abnormally swollen, Awad was still in shock when Le Monde met him. He was alone while the other survivors were chatting in groups outside or cleaning up inside. Like all Derna residents, he began by recounting "his" September 11: "It was Judgment Day. I had barricaded myself in the restaurant before going to bed when, at around 2.30 am, I heard a terrifying sound [the breaking of the first dam, one kilometer upstream from the city]. The building was rolling in on itself. I regained consciousness four hours later after vomiting water. They had stripped me and were starting to wrap me up. Technically, I was dead," he said in one breath. "I'd only been living in Derna for two weeks."

Nearly 8,000 migrants and foreign workers

All that remains of his former life is a Facebook account and the telephones lent to him by his compatriots and fellow refugees. Among them were Mohamed Al-Said, 29, Said Al-Masry, 26, and Ahmad Mohamad, 24. Sitting on a blanket in the shade of some shrubs, the three friends hailed from the decimated Egyptian village of Nazlat Al-Sharif, a small commune in the Nile Valley from which many young people had left to work in Cyrenaica (a province in eastern Libya bordering Egypt) to feed their families.

Officially, 75 of them died in Derna. According to the three friends, it could be more. "Around 120 inhabitants from our village are dead or missing," said Mohamed, his foot bandaged. He injured himself on shards of glass while climbing a wall when the waters rose. All three were working in the construction industry. "Many of us are seasonal workers, who come here for a few months. Others stay for one, two or three years before returning to Egypt," said Al-Masry.

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