The Big Test
Sure, having a three day weekend is a GREAT way to introduce a change . . . kind of like “let them eat cake!” But today and tomorrow are the real tests. Today is the first day that is not a half day off / beginning of weekend, and tomorrow is a WORKING Thursday for Kuwaitis – let the grumbling begin!
Change is always disruptive. A year from now, it will all be comfortable, but it will take some time to get used to the new way of doing things. Businesses who deal with the outside world will have more days in common. I believe that Saudi Arabia and Oman are the only ones still on the Thursday – Friday weekend.
In truth, it has no effect on us. Adventure Man takes Friday for his day off and works the other six days – nothing changes. When he is around, I drop my work and spend time with him.
But this weekend is going to be the BIG adjustment.
(For my non-Kuwait friends, we have had a serious drop in temperatures – at 8 in the morning, it is only 88°, not the 100 degrees of earlier in the week. The expected high for today, though is a cool Fall September 114° F/ 46° C.)
Big Red
Adventure Man and I have an agreement. We leave each other’s lives alone. Like I don’t try to tell him how he should work (I do try to tell him how to drive, or how not to drive, he hates it and I can’t help it; I don’t want to die!) and he doesn’t tell me how to run the house (but he does make “helpful suggestions”, he can’t help it.) We cut each other a lot of slack – it’s the only way you can stay married for a long time.
He monitors my blog closely. I don’t mind, he is like my personal security agency, making sure I don’t tell you too much about myself. I know he is protecting us and I honor that. It also helps me to think about what I am writing as I write – he has never asked me to change anything, but the awareness that he is watching helps me remember to be careful.
But I draw the line at him telling me what to blog. Here is what I say:
GET YOUR OWN BLOG, ADVENTURE MAN!
Yesterday he brought me some Big Red, with a complaint and with a compliment. Many of us in our family are addicted to Big Red, a cinnamon chewing gum. I like it because I drink coffee, and coffee can make your breath bad. Adventure Man just likes it because he likes it.
“This Big Red is not the same!” he complained. “It tastes wrong!”
I tasted it and I thought it tasted normal, but I have been buying Big Red here for a while and maybe my “normal” has gotten skewed.
“And look!” he said, triumphantly “Big Red is supposed to be RED!”
And he was right – this Big Red is WHITE?? How can that be??
But here is the compliment – look what is printed on each individual gum wrapper. (You have to read it from left to right!)
Pretty cool, huh? And this blog entry is for you, Adventure Man.
Invasion Kuwait – Jihan Rajab
I have one very ragged copy of Jihan Rajab’s Invasion Kuwait which she published in 1996. All my house guests have been given an opportunity to read it, and not one single one has been other than blown-away.
When you look at Kuwait today, there is no sign that the disasterous invasion took place. The invasion and occupation are barely a blip on the screen of modern history, to those who were not involved.
And yet – when you listen to those who went through it, there are tales of sheer heroism. If you get the conversation started, in a group, you can hear hair-raising tales, heartbreaking tales, told by the people who went through it.
I had to buy the book through Amazon.com because I looked all over Kuwait and couldn’t find it, not even at the Tarek Rajab museum. When I bought it, I bought it used, because there were no new copies available, but this morning when I went to include the book in the Warrior Women post, I found that you can now buy it new, and I decided it was worth a post of it’s own. It is well worth a read, and it makes Kuwait so much more alive when you pass sites mentioned in the book and remember what took place there in Rajab’s book.
I have read one other book detailing the horrorific experience in Kuwait, but that is all. Are there others? Are there books on the invasion, and the individual experiences, written in Arabic?
The Cat is King in Kuwait
The Kuwait Times printed an article in the Friday Times called The Cat is King in Kuwait, a really fluff piece about how the cats in Kuwait own the streets.
In contrast – and I wish I could print out even a portion of this article, but it is not online, and I no longer have the paper – on Thursday, Ben Garcia wrote a truly heart wrenching editorial/opinion piece about how the children living in his building were chasing, catching, stomping, throwing, swinging and torturing cats. Ironically, two cats they killed, either by stomping or drowning, ended up in the building water supply. One of the maids told her employer that the water tasted funny, and the employer told her the water in Kuwait always tastes funny. (I’m sorry, but that part really made me laugh.)
Mr. Garcia’s article was gut wrenching. He found it an irony that the tortured cats ended up spreading their dead bacteria with the entire building, where the children lived. But the fact that these children think it is OK to stomp on cats makes me almost physically ill.
In the Christian religion, Jesus said we are to protect the little ones. He is thought to be referring to children, but as humans, we are to be stewards of all creation. Doesn’t that means caring for all things, great and small? It means protecting our environment. It also means respecting all life, and giving respect to all humans, no matter what walk of life they are in. If there is any justification for a belief in re-incarnation, it is to learn from another point of view the lessons we fail to learn in this life.
Like wouldn’t we be kinder to the Bangladeshi street worker if we knew he might be our grandfather who beat his servants, or imposed himself on the maid?
I don’t think it meant we are to be all vegetarian, as he gave us animals for meat, but I believe we are to be wise and thoughtful in the use of all he gives us, so abundantly, in our daily lives. I am willing to bet that the Qur’an says something similar. (Can anyone help me out, here?)
So cats are abundant in Kuwait, but King? King of the garbage bin, king of skin diseases, queen of the swollen belly looking for a safe quiet place to give birth? These poor cats have a tough enough life without anyone giving them additional pain or harassment.
And what if these small creatures are angels in disguise, and we hard-heartedly allow them to starve, to wander, to be beaten and abused? Can’t we sin as easily by neglecting to do anything as by actively choosing to harm?
How can parents tolerate that kind of behavior in their children, allowing them to torment these creatures? What kind of lessons are the children learning?
I think finding a dead cat in the drinking water supply would be pretty horrifying – and I can’t help but think it is fitting for people who would allow their children to torture small creatures.
Bravo, Ben Garcia, first for speaking up and shaming those children, and second for writing it up for the Kuwait Times. It isn’t easy to read, but it is right to bring it to our attention.
Friday Fishin’ and New Weekend
The fish must be running today. When I got up, there were about 25 fishing boats, the old fashioned shuwi. just off the coast. Sorry, they are about a kilometer off the shore, so I can’t get a great photo. I found a photo at agmgifts however, that shows what the boats look like:
Weather Underground says it’s going to be 118° F/ 48°C today – how can they bear it? Some of the boats have no cover? How can they be out under the hot, scorching sun with no cover?
For my non-Kuwait readers, this is a very special weekend, a Thursday-Friday-Saturday weekend, to celebrate the shift to a Friday – Saturday weekend. It has been a long time coming; Kuwait is one of the last countries in the Gulf to make the shift. We were also living in Qatar when the shift to Friday – Saturday happened, but in Qatar, there was no uproar. Here, some people were outraged, saying that Saturday was the Jewish day, and it was a fire-and-brimstone kind of sin to take a day off on the Jewish day.
The government announced the weekend would switch to Friday-Saturday, and then the National Assembly announced that no, it wouldn’t, it would remain Thursday – Friday. Then the government offices started sending out notices to the people working there, and to customers, etc. giving new working hours, and here we go, Friday – Saturday. I am hearing rumors that even Saudi Arabia is considering the change, the last great hold out.
It brings the working week into closer alignment with the rest of the world, having more business days in common. It will make the traffic in Kuwait even worse than it already is.
Invisible Moms
A friend sent this to me in an e-mail today. I know I have been invisible, and some of you may relate to it, too. It’s long, but well worth the read.
It started to happen gradually.
One day I was walking my son Jake to school. I was holding his hand and we
were about to cross the street when the crossing guard said to him, ‘Who is
that with you, young fella?’
‘Nobody,’ he shrugged.
Nobody? The crossing guard and I laughed. My son is only 5, but as we
crossed the street I thought, ‘Oh my goodness, nobody?’
I would walk into a room and no one would notice. I would say something to
my family – like ‘Turn the TV down, please’ – and nothing would happen.
Nobody would get up, or even make a move for the remote. I would stand there
for a minute, and then I would say again, a little louder, ‘Would someone
turn the TV down?’ Nothing.
Just the other night my husband and I were out at a party. We’d been there
for about three hours and I was ready to leave. I noticed he was talking to
a friend from work. So I walked over, and when there was a break in the
conversation, I whispered, ‘I’m ready to go when you are.’ He just kept
right on talking.
That’s when I started to put all the pieces together. I don’t think he can
see me. I don’t think anyone can see me.
I’m invisible.
It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the
way one of the kids will walk into the room while I’m on the phone and ask
to be taken to the store. Inside I’m thinking, ‘Can’t you see I’m
on the phone?’ Obviously not. No one can see if I’m on the phone, or cooking, or
sweeping the floor, or even standing on my head in the corner, because no
one can see me at all.
I’m invisible.
Some days I am only a pair of hands, nothing more: Can you fix this? Can
you tie this? Can you open this?
Some days I’m not a pair of hands; I’m not even a human being. I’m a
clock to ask, ‘What time is it?’ I’m a satellite guide to answer, ‘What
number is the Disney Channel?’ I’m a car to order, ‘Right around 5:30, please.’
I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the eyes that
studied history and the mind that graduated summa cum laude – but now they
had disappeared into the peanut butter, never to be seen again.
She’s going… she’s going… she’s gone!
One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of a
friend from England Janice had just gotten back from a fabulous trip, and
she was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. I was sitting
there, looking around at the others all put together so well. It was hard
not to compare and feel sorry for myself as I looked down at my
out-of-style dress; it was the only thing I could find that was clean. My
unwashed hair was pulled up in a banana clip and I was afraid I could
actually smell peanut butter in it. I was feeling pretty pathetic, when
Janice turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package, and said, ‘I
brought you this.’
It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe I wasn’t exactly sure why
she’d given it to me until I read her inscription: ‘To Charlotte , with
admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees.’
In the days ahead I would read – no, devour – the book. And I would
discover what would become for me, four life-changing truths, after which
I could pattern my work:
No one can say who built the great cathedrals – we have no record of
their names.
These builders gave their whole lives for a work they would never
see finished.
They made great sacrifices and expected no credit.
The passion of their building was fueled by their faith that the
eyes of God saw everything.
A legendary story in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the
cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tiny
bird on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man, ‘Why are you
spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will covered by the
roof? No one will ever see it.’ And the workman replied, ‘Because God sees.’
I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place. It was
almost as if I heard God whispering to me, ‘I see you, Charlotte. I see
the sacrifices you make every day, even when no one around you does. No act
of kindness you’ve done, no sequin you’ve sewn on, no cupcake you’ve
baked,
is too small for me to notice and smile over. You are building a great
cathedral, but you can’t see right now what it will become.’
At times, my invisibility feels like an affliction. But it is not a
disease that is erasing my life. It is the cure for the disease of my own
self-centeredness. It is the antidote to my strong, stubborn pride.
I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder. As one
of the people who show up at a job that they will never see finished, to
work on something that their name will never be on. The writer of the book
went so far as to say that no cathedrals could ever be built in our
lifetime because there are so few people willing to sacrifice to that
degree.
When I really think about it, I don’t want my son to tell the friend he’s
bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, ‘My mom gets up at 4 in the
morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand bastes a turkey for three
hours and presses all the linens for the table.’
That would mean I’d built a shrine or a monument to myself. I just want him
to want to come home.
And then, if there is anything more to say to his friend, to add,
‘You’re gonna love it there.’
As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we’re
doing it right. And one day, it is very possible that the world will
marvel, not only at what we have built, but at the beauty that has been
added to the world by the sacrifices of invisible women.
“Don’t you know that you yourselves are God’s temple and that God’s
Spirit lives in you?” I Cor.3:16
Tang Chow and Gulf Road
I’ve written about Tang Chow before. I know, I know, you are looking for something new. But (there’s always that “but”) when Adventure Man called and said “what do you want to do about dinner” and I said “I just have a hankering for Tang Chow”, he said “Me too! I’ve been thinking about it all day!”
It’s great when you are married to someone who likes the same food at the same time. No, it isn’t always instant agreement.
Sometimes, we’ll be going out and he will say “where are we going?” and I will give him three options, and he won’t like any of them. So then I say, “Ok, OK where is it YOU really want to go?” and he will tell me and we will go there. Sometimes it works out OK, and sometimes there just isn’t much on the menu I really like, but we try to take turns getting to choose when we can’t agree. But if one of us really objects, then we go somewhere else.
We never disagree when it comes to Tang Chow. The only negative factor is the traffic on Gulf Road. What a hassle!
Last week we were caught in that horrid traffic (and it’s only August! Not even as bad as when school starts!) and there was a car to our left with the lights on inside, four women primping, literally with compacts, checking their own lips, checking their eyes, clearly ON DISPLAY but pretending to be oblivious to all the attention they were getting from the guys trying to get their attention.
And the guys in front of us, in a great big SUV, trying to get the girls’ attention, HIT the car in front of them, full of a family bringing a brand new baby home from the hospital.
Guys, take it off the road! Court in the parking lots, court at Chili’s, court at the coffee houses or at the Malls – take it off the road.
You have my sympathy, truly. I know it is really really tough here, almost impossible, to get to know the girls. And you have all those raging hormones. Still – take it OFF THE ROAD.
We could see the young men were really really sorry they had hit the family. I am betting they learned from the experience, and, God willing, will keep their eyes on the road when they are driving, but I am afraid to hope for too much.
I Thought I’d Never See You Again
I thought I saw you from across the room. My heart leapt into my throat – I didn’t dare believe my eyes.
I thought I would never see you again. When you disappeared from my life, life lost a little of it’s savor. I looked for you, I searched for you, always disappointed. I had become so addicted, without even knowing it. You made such a difference in my life. Without you, there is only darkness.
I woke up each morning yearning for you, and sad because of your absence. Oh yes, I moved on, I found others, but I was never satisfied. I never found a substitute for you.
So you understand why I appeared so wild-eyed with happiness? Why I grabbed at you so greedily? I want you in my life! Please, don’t desert me again!
The Arab Way
My husband and I were very young when we first came to live in the Middle East, back to back embassy assignments, first in Tunisia, and then in Jordan. Before those assignments, we had spent two years learning about the culture, and my husband spoke Arabic and I spoke French. It didn’t matter. We were still woefully ignorant. (And we are still learning!)
People would call us, asking for favors, especially visas and getting their kids into U.S. colleges. We would look at each other in astonishment. How could they think their kids could get into college without passing the tests? How did they think their cousin could get into pilot training when there were other, better qualified candidates? And we learned, that with the right connections, exceptions are made.
We got smarter. We were travelling back in Germany, and wanted to stay in military lodging, but all the rooms were taken. We decided to go get something to eat, and at dinner, I said to my husband “let’s try doing it the Arab way.” He looked at me and said “Whaaaaaattt?”
“Take your orders that say we are with the embassy and on special leave” I told him. “Tell them we just got in, and just need a place for tonight.”
“But they don’t have any rooms!” Adventure Man protested.
“They always hold rooms back for special circumstances, for pilots, for emergencies,” I countered. “Make us special.”
We finished dinner, and felt better with our blood sugars back up. Adventure Man became his charming persona, and we went back to the hotel. He was inside for a bare two minutes, and came back out grinning, and holding a key.
We have learned an important lesson. Yes, there are policies. Yes, there are rules. Yes, there are the way things are done, customs, traditions, inviolable.
But there are also exceptions, and they are based on personal relationships.
Our insurance company told us they would no longer insure our Florida house, too much risk exposure in Florida. We went to a lot of trouble to try to meet a guideline that would allow us to be an exception – to no avail. Yesterday, I spent an hour on the phone with one person who was persistently pleasant in telling me it was not possible. I told her that telling me what a great customer I was, and how they valued our loyalty didn’t ring true when they would abandon us after all our years of being good customers. I didn’t blame her, personally, but neither was I buying all this pleasant stuff, when the bottom line was money, not loyalty.
I hung up the phone with a huge pit in my stomach – this cloud, this worry has hung over my head all summer, and now my worst fears had come true and I would have to seek new, less reliable, insurance. But I decided to put it off until tomorrow, no point trying to do something when you feel really depressed.
Late last night, we were in those early hours of dead-drooling sleep, the phone rang, and it was the insurance representative calling us back. Four hours after our phone call, the phone call which had been “the final answer” she was calling me back to say she had found a way, and our policy was being re-instated.
Thanks be to God! The Arab way worked, even though I wasn’t consciously using the Arab way, probably my thinly veiled anger and frustration and bottom line TERROR had gotten through to her. I thought it was over, but God was working behind the scenes, and a miracle happened.
We are still learning; we still have a lot to learn, and living in this culture helps us continue learning a new tools, additional strategies, for our tool box.
Back it up! #2 Khalid Al-Hajri
WOOOOOOO Hoooooooooooo Khalid Al-Hajri!
You WILL find this one in the Kuwait Times Online, by clicking right here.
Khalid Al-Hajri, representing The Green LIne Environmental Group, held a press conference and demonstrated how the Wafra Agricultural Area – and all of Kuwait – faces an environmental disaster due to irresponsible disposal of petroleum related wastage.
This takes a bucket full of courage, in a nation where so much wealth is produced by petroleum. And Khalid Al-Hajri didn’t just go on record giving an emotional speech, no. He had graphs and maps and photos – he had the FACTS to back up his assertions.
And bravo to the Kuwait Times for giving him page 3 coverage.
The truth is that I don’t understand the whole of the report. I understand that there are problems with oil products being illegally dumped in the al Wafra farm area and it could have a devastating impact on the farming there. And – I understand that their injecting the oil production by-products deep into the earth NEAR THE SAUDI – KUWAITI BORDER could cause EARTHQUAKES.
Hmmmmmm. . . . didn’t we just have an earthquake? And where was it? Oh . . . yeh! Near the Kuwaiti – Saudi border, wasn’t it?
And worst case of all, these by products pollute the underground aquifer.
I applaud people like Khalid Al-Hajri who care about their country enough to do their homework, and then to speak up in a responsible way to bring our attention to practices that can hurt Kuwait in the future.
Recent Comments
Kitchen on Isiais: Winding Down intlxpatr on Shampoo Ginger tigerbutterya0c5ff1d… on Shampoo Ginger intlxpatr on British Soldier Kidnapped, Esc… John on British Soldier Kidnapped, Esc… Wikipedia Donate Button
Amazina
Early Voting in Florida
