Monthly Archives: September 2019

Stranger in a strange land – Part 1

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Photo of Kuwait landmark
Photo credit to Richard Bartz

When we travel, we need to be open to experiencing life like the locals. Eating their food, learning about their history and culture, and appreciating similarities as well as differences. I believe my longevity in Kuwait and appreciation for its rich culture and history has enriched my life immensely.

In order to put my life in Kuwait into context, my post this week and in following weeks, is about how I ended up moving there in the first place and what my first impressions were.

The plane landed at Kuwait International Airport after a very long flight with several layovers. I wasn’t sure what to expect other than being met by my fiance. It was October 31st, 1984 and I had departed Buffalo where the temperature was a typical 45 F/7 C. I had packed two suitcases with all the clothes and belongings I owned. I believed I was ready for this new life adventure. What I wasn’t ready for was 90 F/32 C when I exited the terminal at 10:00 p.m.; it was like I’d stuck my head in an oven!

Maybe I need to start from the beginning…about six years prior to landing in Kuwait.
It’s a typical boy meets girls story, but the boy is a graduate student from Kuwait and the girl is working at a commercial bank in Buffalo, New York. They meet by accident in March 1978 and become long distance friends when she moves to Miami, Florida for graduate school. She still doesn’t believe that their friendship will turn into anything serious, so she accepts a job in Atlanta, Georgia after graduation. After many expensive telephone calls and snail mail, it was obvious that our relationship became more serious, and it would be easier if I moved back to Buffalo (something I said I would never do because I’m not a fan of cold weather; lesson is never say never). After resigning from my job at a savings bank in Atlanta (it was a long time ago), I packed up all my worldly goods in a U Haul truck and drove my Dodge Colt back to Buffalo with my future husband.

Fast forward to September, 1984 and a proposal from my future husband to move to Kuwait and get married there. By this time, he had returned after graduating with his post-doctoral degree in Oral Pathology and spending several months in Germany with his mother who needed medical treatment. When I arrived, I was surprised about how modern the airport was and how efficient my arrival, customs, and getting my luggage was. I’m not sure what I thought it was going to be like, something more primitive or third-worldish. Several people were waiting outside the arrivals hall to greet me and I was pleased to find out that I was able to communicate with everyone in English.

We drove to my future mother-in-law’s house where we would be living for the first 5 ½ years. Since I arrived at night, I was unable to see much on my way from the airport. I was very warmly greeted by her even though she was unable to communicate with me directly since she spoke Arabic and I only knew two phrases: hello and how are you?(learn more about how and why I learned Arabic in this post: https://eddilene.edublogs.org/2019/09/07/how-kuwait-became-my-adopted-home-learning-the-language/

My first impression of the house was how cozy it felt. My second impression was that there were two living rooms, a place for formal gatherings and one for every day. There were several bedrooms on the first floor, a dining room and a small kitchen. A door from the kitchen led to another, larger kitchen. I soon learned that the main cooking was done in the outside kitchen since Kuwaiti food takes several hours to make and the use of many Indian and other spices makes it necessary to cook in a space outside of the living area. On the second floor was a small apartment with two bedrooms, a living room, kitchen and bathroom. This is where I would be living once we were married and until we built our own house.

In the next few posts, I will describe the marriage ceremonies (yes, there is more than one), the distinct sights and smells of Kuwait, and so many other interesting similarities and differences to my life in the United States.

Journey of a Lifetime

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The Haram Mosque in Mecca, Saudi Arabia with the Kaaba (black stone0 in the center. Photo by Abdullah_Shakoor

When I moved to Kuwait in 1984, I never imagined that I would become a bridge between cultures; East/West, Muslim/non-Muslim, English-speaking/Arabic-speaking. I bring communities together because I’m able to experience and reflect on multiple cultural and linguistic identities and convey those experiences and reflections to others. This week’s post tells my pilgrimage story.

I wonder if you can imagine what it is like to be the only person in the midst of two million other people?

My journey began in 2009 with my decision to go on Hajj, the pilgrimage required of all Muslims and one of the 5 pillars of Islam that also include: praying 5 times a day (salat), fasting (seyam), giving to charity (zakat), and confirming your beliefs. I am not sure why I had expressed my intention at the time, but I do remember a very strong feeling in my head and heart, almost like a voice, telling me that I should go. It was a different kind of reaction than in the past when my Kuwaiti relatives asked whether I was going. This time I fully intended to go.

When I returned from summer vacation in the United States, my husband asked if I still intended to go in spite of all the dire warnings to people about the swine flu outbreak, the H1N1 virus. Without a moment’s hesitation, I said, “Yes”. I had an inner conviction that I must go. And I though, ‘This year it’s the flu; ‘who knows what next year will bring?’ I was surprised at how quickly I responded to my husband. How could I be so committed? I am still not sure, but I do have my suspicions. In any case, I am glad that I trusted that voice in my head because 10 days before I was scheduled to leave for Hajj, my father died. I believe I had a premonition and that’s what pushed me to commit myself to going. I felt that I would be able to work out some of my grief while I was in Mecca.

So what was my Hajj like? They say it is a journey of a lifetime, and it certainly was for me.

The preparations began with my husband looking for a “hemlah” or caravan, to take us. Most people from Kuwait register with a group that is experienced in the rules and procedures for making Hajj and also arranging for accommodation, food, transportation, and education about the journey. It took him about a month of asking relatives, friends, and neighbors for recommendations before he settled on a caravan named Le Baik. In the intervening time before I left, there were preliminary steps such as vaccinations (seasonal flu, meningitis, and of course H1N1), attending a “meet and greet” session with the others in the same group, and preparing all of the necessary items of clothing that I needed. The shots were the easy part, and of course the meet and greet was nice, but then the phone rang at 1:00 a.m. on November 15th. It was a call from my brother that my father had died suddenly. After the initial shock, I realized I needed a plan. My flight with the Hajj group was on November 25th.

How was I going to prepare my suitcase with only a day in between arriving from the U.S. to attend the memorial service and leaving for Hajj? Well, luckily I am blessed with a wonderful support system in Kuwait and one of my husband’s cousins offered to take me shopping. In a span of about two hours on the night before I left for my hometown, she took me to a local store where I bought two abayas (long black cloak) with pockets, so I didn’t need a handbag, undergarments, two long dresses (dara’as), deodorant, and soap without any scent (one of the requirements), and sturdy, comfortable shoes for lots of walking.

Wednesday, November 25th arrived and our caravan awaited. Actually, we headed to the airport to catch the plane to Jeddah, Saudi Arabia to start the journey. We arrived late afternoon and boarded the bus that would take us the 90km to Mecca, where the Hajj is commenced, I had been advised that Hajj is very tiring, but I had no idea that it included the ride to the hotel. The ride took longer than expected due to heavy rain and flooding in Jeddah that had washed out one of the major bridges on tour route. What an auspicious beginning to my journey! It took more than 7 hours to travel to Mecca from Jedda. Once the bus found an alternative route, we stopped at a McDonald’s along the way. It happened to be the only restaurant open at 11:00 p.m. and had bathrooms. I personally thought it was a bit ironic.

We finally arrived at the hotel. Once we checked in and took our luggage to the room, we washed up and then headed to the Haram (the holy site of the Ka’aba) to perform the Tammattu Hajj (minor pilgrimage) and Sa’y which includes walking 7 times around the Kaaba (black stone). We then walked back and forth between Safa and Mirwa. Both actions have their own rituals, but mostly it is a time to offer prayers. Safa and Mirwa represent two hills at opposite ends of a long hallway. The ritual represents the desperate search for water that Hajaar took after the Prophet Ibrahim left his wife and child. Every time the child, Ishmael cried out for water, his mother ran off looking for it. Again, I walked back and forth between the two “hills” until I completed 7 times for each length.

The next part of the journey was actually the real beginning of my Hajj pilgrimage. It was the Day of Arafat. We ate breakfast at the hotel and headed to the tent city set up near the Mount Arafat. It was a very solemn day filled with prayer and meditation; asking God to bless me and whomever I prayed for. It was also a day of camaraderie with the ladies in one tent and the men in another. I learned about the rituals of Hajj and chatted with some of the other Hajjaj (those on Hajj). They told me that the Hajj represents the devotion and dedication that Prophet Ibrahim had for God. And those who perform Hajj are actuating their own devotion to God. We prayed together all day long. In my personal prayers, I remembered my father and wished for his soul to have an easy journey. I remembered him and all that he meant to me and my family. Later that day, we headed to Mina, by way of Misdallafa. We stayed there until the Fajr (early morning-sunrise) prayer; sitting on the hard ground and each one of us picking up 49 small stones needed for the ritual at Jamarat over the next 3 days (to stone the devil).

Going to Jamarat was quite an experience in itself. Buses had to park far from the entrance, so we all had to walk a distance before entering an area where there are 3 large stone edifices. A small, a medium, and a large one, each in a separate section of an open air building. Originally, this part of the Hajj was quite difficult since there was only one floor to accommodate the millions of pilgrims. However, after a tragic accident due to overcrowding a few years before, three more floors were added. The procedure to follow at this ritual is to throw 7 pebbles (ramy) at the stone while reciting “Allahu Akbar” (God is great) each time. This ritual represents the stoning of the devil when Ibrahim was asked to sacrifice his son. Ibrahim is able to admonish the devil. It also represents a person’s rebuke of the internal “devil” that we all face at one time or another in our lives.

Once Hajj is completed, Muslims celebrate Eid Al Adha. For those at the Hajj, it’s a time to catch up on lost sleep and to reflect on our blessings and the journey we have just taken.

I mentioned at the beginning of this post that my Hajj in 2009 was a journey of a lifetime for me. A big part of the journey was all of the walking I did and the closeness I felt to God during my meditation and prayer. And as I have said, in the midst of 2 million other people, all performing the same rituals, I felt like I was the only one on this journey. Amazing!

Decisions during difficult times

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Operation Iraqi Feedom-2003

Have you ever been in a situation where you thought, “Every decision is a bad decision?” How many times did I repeat that phrase during the Iraq crisis of 2003? Why did it keep coming up in my conversations? How long would we have to wait to find out whose and which decisions were better “bad” than others? Here is a timeline and the “decisions” that were made. You be the judge. Were they bad decisions? Or good “bad” decisions? And did any of us have a choice?

January 31, 2003
As American embassy warden for my school and the PreK-grade 5 principal, I received the first in a series of warden’s messages. “‘The United States embassy recommends voluntary evacuation for non-essential employees and family members.’” The meaning of that message to American citizens living in Kuwait is, the U.S. State Department has deemed Kuwait to be on a higher alert than normal and this message indicates the first level of caution. After receiving the message, I called my Superintendent and we made the decision to start a phone chain to inform staff.

That same week, my sons, Barrak and Meshari, were with classmates at the Hague for a Model United Nations Conference. I decided not to inform them. What could they do about it? I knew we would talk about the situation when they returned home in two days.
The following is a diary of events:

Feb. 1st
My school’s administration and owners scramble to decide what to do. Some of our staff are nervous, anxious, terrified. They want to leave. The school’s administration recommends that we stay open until our scheduled February 10th holiday and then close until March 1st to allow staff to leave if they want. The United States is predicting that the war will begin at the end of February. The largest and oldest American school in Kuwait decides to close from February 10 until March 22nd. My sons, who are still at the Hague, find out and call me. “What are we going to do, Mama: How long will the school really be closed? What will happen if I can’t graduate (from my oldest son who is due to graduate in June, 2003)? I sense a bit of panic in their voices and try to calm them by telling them nothing will happen before they arrive the next day. Then we will discuss.

Feb. 2nd
My school decides to cancel Spring vacation and take it in February, thereby not losing school days. The British schools decide to stay open. The boys arrive that night and we schedule a family meeting for the next day after they have gone to school and find out what everyone else is going to do. My husband remains in London with my ill and elderly mother-in-law.

Feb. 3rd
We (my three children and I) have our family meeting to decide whether to stay in Kuwait or leave for the U.S. In the meantime, I have spoken to my mother and we know it will be difficult to go there since Barrak has only a few months until graduation. Our discussion focuses on feeling safe and also whether we think school will resume in time for him to graduate and my other son and daughter to finish the school year. We decide to stay in Kuwait. We’ll prepare a safe room. Barrak has already heard from some seniors that they will be leaving for other places and may return when school reopens or to attend graduation. I don’t inform my husband since he is busy with preparations to return to Kuwait with his mother.

Feb. 4th
My staff begin to make plans to leave for “vacation” and await news from Kuwait about the intended reopening on March 1st. Uncertainty about many things is stressing everyone out. I keep the faith and a steady hand at the helm.

Feb. 10th
My husband returns from London with his mother. He is not happy that I allowed the children to help with the decision to stay in Kuwait. Are you sure the boys’ school will reopen?

March 1st
My school reopens since many of the foreign and all government school have remained open during this time minus some overseas staff. We are not sure what will happen, but the American embassy is still on “voluntary” evacuation.

March 14
Two new teachers arrive from South Africa to fill positions that opened suddenly in the middle of the school year. The school administration has decided to remain open unless the Ministry of Education orders schools to close. The new teachers decide not to return to South Africa since their entry visas will be cancelled and they won’t be able to return. The war is imminent. AAG decides to close again.

March 17 Warden’s message
All U.S. citizens are urged to depart Kuwait immediately. The Ministry of Education announces closure of all government schools. Most of the private schools decide to close also.

March 18
The two South African teachers come to stay with my family rather than in the empty teacher building in Mahboula.

March 19th- The War…Day One
Sirens sound on our way to have lunch at my mother-in-law’s house. Very bad feeling…We decide to turn around and eat at home. After lunch, I cover the air conditioning ducts and the bathroom fans (in case of chemical bombs). We stay glued to the radio for sirens and the all clear signal.

March 19-Warden’s message
The US Embassy is aware that several European airlines have suspended, or shortly will suspend service to Kuwait. All U. S. citizens in Kuwait who wish to depart are encouraged to contact the airlines for reservations while commercial flights are still available.

March 20th-Day Two
More sirens. This time at night; interrupting our sleep at 1 a.m. and 5 a.m. The next day, I take a walk around our neighborhood with the two teachers to ward off “cabin fever”. The news from Barrak’s school is they will reopen on April 1st. We live in hope.

March 21st-Day Three
A “normal” day. I go to the supermarket near my mother-in-law’s house and then stop by to visit her.

More Warden’s messages
The Iraqi regime has fired several missiles at Kuwait during the course of the day. All missiles have fallen north of Kuwait City and none have impacted populated areas. No chemical or biological agents have been detected. We are unaware of any casualties or property damage.

March 22-Day 4
More interrupted sleep. I take the new teachers to school to do some work. The school administration decides to postpone the reopening to April 1st. High school Seniors get nervous and suggest they come into school and continue classes. Several local teachers volunteer with me supervising.

March 23 and 24-Days 5 and 6
Peace and quiet…I decide to visit friends.

March 24 Warden’s message
The Iraqi regime has fired missiles at Kuwait during the past 48 hours. A missile that landed in the water near Fahaheel, south of Kuwait City, on March 20, causes minor property damage.

March 25-Day 7
A phone call from one of my teachers. She is worried and needs to be reassured we are all ok. I reassure her.

March 26-Day 8
Siren at 11:10 a.m. BOOM…BOOM as the picture window rattles while we eat lunch at my mother-in-law’s house. Emails and phone calls from staff members indicate that they will arrive after school reopens. We scramble to hire subs.

March 27-Day 9
My son receives acceptances to several universities and a rejection. We hope that school will reopen as planned on April 1st, but the teachers are unable to return since none of the airlines have resumed their flights. School reopens on April 5th.

My sons’ school finally reopens with weekend classes for seniors, and although delayed by two weeks, my son graduates with about two-thirds of his classmates.

Background for context of the email and letter below:
Most of my son’s class had been together since elementary school. They were a class of high achievers and difference makers.

From: Ilene Winokur
Sent: 3/11/03 10:45 PM
Subject: RE: situation here

Dear Andy,
I know that you are committed to the kids and that is one of the reasons I like you so much. I need to let you know about a situation that has been brewing since the school closed. It affects the senior class and because of the nature of it and Becky’s commitment to the kids, I am copying her on this email. I can’t tell you both what to do, but Barrak and I are willing to help out and would like to meet with Becky as soon as she gets back to Kuwait and can meet with us.
As time has passed since Feb. 10th and parents and seniors have considered the choices, slowly, one by one, almost all of Barrak’s circles of friends have chosen to leave Kuwait. They all promised each other that they would come back if allowed to so that they could share their last few months together, the college rejections and acceptances, senior skip day. the last few minutes of class on the last day of school, and then graduate together. Barrak is realistic and knows that some of them may not return for whatever the reason. Actually, they had set up a yahoo group so that they could share photos and comments.
Barrak has told me that they are all miserable wherever they attend school. They miss each other and it is very upsetting to some. Today he informed me that two of his friends are in therapy, a third has not gotten proper sleep for weeks and has become very ill because of it an another cries all day and is awake all night. As time passes and the start of school remains unknown, they grow more and more despondent.
Is it possible for either you or Becky to email the seniors and let them know how committed you both are to helping them have the kind of ending to their senior year that they had hoped for? I am sure that Barrak would post your email on the yahoo group site for his group or you coul post it on the ASK website if emailing them was logistically difficult. Barrak has kept himself busy these past few weeks, with intermittent second guessing of our decision to stay, but I feel him slipping away like the others as he realizes how much he has missed sharing with his friends. I hope I am not sounding too melodramatic, but I know that some word from either both, or either one of you would be very reassuring to them as it has been to me.
Thanks for listening.
Ilene

The following message was posted on the school website:
Date: March 04, 2003

To all members of the ASK community,

I write to you at this time to reaffirm the school’s commitment to complete the 2002/3 year and ensure that all students are not adversely affected by the current political situation in Kuwait. The original decision to temporarily close the school until the 22nd of March was made with the hope that the political situation in neighboring Iraq could be resolved and life in Kuwait could resume a sense of normality without associated tensions. At the time, with the growing concerns, this seemed to be a logical and sensible course of action, and I totally stand by that decision. It must be remembered that a considerable proportion of our school population is expatriate who had already been advised they would have to leave Kuwait. It must also be noted that the schools that have chosen to remain open have experienced considerable difficulties with staffing their schools and this has had a significant effect on the quality of the programs offered at these schools and their ability to recruit teachers for the future. The American School of Kuwait is committed to complete the school year and ensure that all students at the school have the opportunity to complete all of their classes. At present all administrators are due back in Kuwait on the 15th of March and school is due to recommence on the 22nd. Should we be advised that military action against Iraq is imminent while making our preparations to reopen the school – then, and only then, it may be necessary to delay the restart and this would be done on a week by week basis, or if necessary, a day by day consideration. I am aware that some schools in Kuwait who had been temporarily closed have chosen to reopen in some form or the other. I believe that these plans were unwise at this time considering the current situation, and remind you that our closure was designed to allow families to make coordinated plans for the safety of everyone concerned. I am also aware that many parents and students are concerned that our students will be disadvantaged as a result of this temporary closure. This is not the case. While I have been in North America recruiting teachers for the coming school year (which I have now almost completed), I have been in contact with the Office of Overseas Schools, the Middle States Schools and Colleges Accreditation Organization, and the College Board who supervise the Advanced Placement Examinations. These organizations have all been extremely supportive in regards to any suggested changes that we may have to make to our calendar and in extending our school year. The College Board have also given us permission to delay the AP exams to ensure that our senior students are not disadvantaged in any way. In summary our temporary closure will be accommodated, and should it be necessary to extend this closure slightly, we make the firm commitment to extend the school year to ensure that our students are not disadvantaged. We have support and permission from the key university and regulatory authorities in the states, and teachers are eager to complete the school year. In the days ahead I will endeavor to keep you well informed, and I assure you that decisions will be made after carefully analysis of safety issues of all members of the school community, together with the educational needs of all students at ASK.

Yours Sincerely,
Dr Andy Page-Smith,
Superintendent.

9/11/2001 – Remembrance

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Letter from a 3rd grade parent dated 9/12/2001 that mentions the reason for his daughter’s absence “to show sympathy and solidarity”…”in light of the tragic events of 9/11.

This post is dedicated to all who lost their lives on 9/11 and afterwards as a result of 9/11; and to the families of those who still suffer the pain of that loss.

There are some days you never forget; like the day President John F. Kennedy was assassinated, the day Martin Luther King Jr. was shot, or the day the lunar module landed on the moon (I know, that dates me). I can remember where I was and what I was doing. Sometimes, I can even remember what it felt like when I heard or saw the news. Today, September 11, I remember that day 18 years ago.

It was the end of the school day in Kuwait and I had arranged to pass by a colleague’s house near the school to pick up something she wanted to give me. I’d just left her house and driven a short distance when she called me. I almost didn’t answer the phone since I was driving, but I saw her name come onto the screen and thought I had forgotten something at her house. I answered and she sounded quite upset. She asked me if I had the radio on and I told her that I didn’t. She said that there was something happening at the World Trade Center in New York and as soon as I arrive home, I should watch the television news. I didn’t want to drive and talk on the phone, so I told her I would let her know when I arrived at my house.

I turned on the radio, but there was nothing but music. As soon as I reached home, I turned on the TV to CNN. By then, both towers had been hit and there was already talk of a terrorist attack. I could see the replays of the first tower getting hit and going down. I felt sick to my stomach. Who could do something like this? Why hurt innocent people? How can anyone think that a commercial airplane be used as a “weapon”? So many thoughts racing through my mind. And then the announcers began saying over and over again that it was Muslims, specifically Al Qaeda that planned the attacks. I already knew this event was unprecedented. It frightened everyone, everywhere. It affected everyone, everywhere.

I tried not to stay glued to the news that evening because the scenes were just too terrifying. A chain of messages began flowing into my phone from my team of teachers. I was the school’s elementary principal and everyone wondered whether school would be held the next day, or if we knew anyone that was affected. I consulted with the other principals and the school superintendent about the concerns everyone was sharing with me and them. It was as if the breath had been knocked out of our lungs.

I knew that having a regular day of school was going to be difficult. Everyone had heard the news by the next day, including the students. I advised the teachers that discussion about the events should be kept to a minimum and to involve the school counselor if any student(s) seemed to be in need of support. This was also advised for any teacher needing support, and we all tried to be there for each other. The school is all girls PreK-12 American curriculum and all of the teachers are female and many at that time were American or Canadian nationality. One of the teachers was still trying to locate a friend of hers that worked near the Twin Towers and she was not in good shape that day. I asked it she wanted the day off, but she insisted it would be better for her to keep working.

The general feeling in the building was uneasy. We all felt safe, yet vulnerable. As the day wore on, I could see it was necessary for us to come together as a group and just be able to show support for each other. One of the third grade teachers, from Nigeria, who was in Kuwait with her husband and two children came to my mind. She was trusted by all teachers and had a calm demeanor that just made us all feel calm. I knew her husband was a minister in a local church and that she was a very spiritual woman. I went to her during her free period that day and asked if she would be willing to lead a prayer circle for us after school that day in lieu of our regular weekly staff meeting. She was touched that I asked her and immediately said she was more than willing. She told me the prayer she was planning would be non-religious since we had a variety of nationalities and religions represented.

After school, those who wanted to (their presence was voluntary) joined hands in a circle near the auditorium stage. Mrs. A said a prayer, some comforting words, and then we observed a minute of silence for those whose lives were taken the day before. It’s hard to imagine that something so simple could be so meaningful or that it would touch those who were in that room, but it seemed to have the calming effect we all needed. We were together, we were a family, we were a community, and we were there for each other. Years later, several of the teachers present that day told me that it had meant so much to them. They had no idea how much it meant to me.

In the following days and weeks as the picture of what had happened on September 11, 2001 became clearer and the consequences of the actions to secure airlines made traveling more difficult and visas for foreigners more difficult to obtain, we were reminded of the absolute goodness of people. The school management and individual teachers began to receive letters and cards and flowers from parents saying, “We are with you,” and “We will never forget what the United States did to liberate Kuwait from oppressors.” What a difference that made to the teachers who had left the comfort of their homes and families to live in Kuwait and teach Muslim children.

It’s 18 years since that day, but none of us will ever forget where we were and what we were doing when we heard the news. In fact, Kuwait, less than two years later, was in the midst of war as a result of 9/11. It was a major reason for the 2003 war in Iraq.
That’s another post for another day…

Message sent to all staff by the school superintendent to hold a moment of silence in honor of those who died during the 9/11 attacks.

Telegram from elementary school parent

How Kuwait became my adopted home: Learning the language

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I moved to Kuwait in late October, 1984 knowing only two Arabic expressions for hello and how are you, but having a genuine wish to learn the language and culture of my adopted home. I wasn’t sure how or when this was going to happen, but I couldn’t imagine not learning the language.

1984 Kuwait was a lot different from 2019 Kuwait. There was only one place to learn classical Arabic to read and write, and there wasn’t any institute that offered classes in spoken Arabic. So I registered for Kuwait University’s continuing education class-Level 1 Arabic, and I began to search for a way to learn the Kuwaiti dialect, so I could communicate with my mother-in-law and other in-laws who had limited or no understanding of English. In 2019 Kuwait, there are many institutes that offer classes in Modern Standard Arabic and spoken Kuwaiti dialect.*

Some might assume that I should have been able to learn from my Kuwaiti husband; however, after knowing each other for almost seven years, we were used to speaking to each other in English. This habit was almost impossible to break, even when I tried. The solution appeared during a visit to my sister-in-law’s house. Although she didn’t know English, her four grown daughters did. The youngest was in high school, and the oldest was a recent college graduate. The two in between were attending Kuwait University. I was sharing my interest in learning spoken Kuwaiti dialect and after a short discussion, they agreed that if I helped them improve their academic English, they would teach me Kuwaiti Arabic.

I’d like to say the process was easy, but as anyone who’s learned Arabic will tell you, it is so different from English. In addition, I was 29 years old at the time which the research will tell you isn’t the ideal age to learn a new language, But remember, I was determined. So lessons began: each visit, my nieces would teach me the Kuwaiti words for a specific theme such as “the kitchen” or “parts of the body”. The next time I visited their house, they would quiz me on the past lesson. If I passed the test, they taught me new words. If I didn’t pass, I had to go back and study them again.

Pages from my notebook showing common words in Kuwaiti dialect.

A page from my Arabic class notebook.

In the meantime, I was learning the alphabet and some basic vocabulary in my continuing education course, so I was able to string words together in simple sentences. And as an added bonus, I hadn’t started working yet, so my days were spent visiting with relatives and friends of my mother-in-law or watching television with her. I would listen for words that were repeated and then ask about them later on. I immersed myself in the process and whenever I could put a few words together, I tried them out. This proved to be an interesting process with my husband who would often look at me and ask, “Can you repeat that again?” And when he still didn’t understand me, “Please say it in English”, to which I would answer, “No, I will repeat it in Arabic until you understand me because I just said it to someone else and he/she understood me.”

Kuwait University Continuing Education course registration showing the levels I passed.

The Modern Standard Arabic book used in my Arabic class.

After several months of study with my nieces and learning enough words and phrases that I felt more confident, I ventured out on my own. My philosophy about learning the language was to use it whenever and wherever I could. I recall one shopping trip to buy summer clothes. The salesman was from another Arab country and probably spoke English, but I decided to speak to him in Arabic to get some practice. This is how the conversation went:
Me: Marhaba (greeting)
Salesman: Ahlan (welcome)
Me: Fee lone thani (is there another color? as I pointed to a pair of pants)
Salesman: Na’am. Fee ezreq wa benefsijie (Yes. There is blue and purple).
‘Oh dear’, I thought to myself. ‘I don’t remember what color benefsijie is.’ That’s when I switched to English, thoroughly confusing the salesman who looked at me and said, “Where are you from? You were just speaking Arabic and now English.” So I briefly explained to him that I had recently moved to Kuwait from the United States and was learning Arabic, but didn’t know the word for ‘purple’ when he mentioned it.

I continued to immerse myself in the language by speaking Arabic even when people spoke to me in English because they thought I might not understand. There were several instances when we broke into laughter because the Arabic speakers were talking in English and I was speaking in Arabic.

It was a few years before I was fluent enough to hold a full conversation in Arabic. I continued to acquire more vocabulary and better pronunciation of the additional letters that are not used in English. People who didn’t expect that I knew Arabic, especially Kuwaiti dialect, were quite often surprised to hear it from me. In fact, I found out that I know words that are no longer in use by younger generations. One day, I was sitting with my brother-in-law at our weekly family gathering and he asked me, “Ilene, how are you able to understand my wife?” I replied that I didn’t understand why he thought it would be a problem since I had been learning the language for a while. He told me that he asked because his wife used so many of the old words that aren’t used anymore in conversation; words that sometimes he didn’t know. She had learned them from her mother. I thought about it and realized that I’d learned those words and phrases when I sat with my mother-in-law and her visitors. To this day, I’m not sure what those words are, but when I say something and I hear giggles, I know. People just don’t expect to hear those words from me.

Sometimes I reflect on how I learned Arabic, which is my third language. My second language is Spanish and I learned that from the time I was in seventh grade all the way through university. That’s quite a few years, yet I am still translating from English to Spanish and back again. It’s interesting that I am fluent in Arabic to the point that I even dream in Arabic sometimes. What’s the difference in how I learned each language? The reason I reflected on my own learning is related to having a better understanding of English Language Learners (ELLs) when I was teaching them and supervising other teachers whose classrooms were filled with ELLs.

My main takeaways from these reflections are:
1. I had a reason for learning Arabic whereas I learned Spanish because I had to take a language at school. I wasn’t sure I’d every use it (that was back in the 60’s when there were few Spanish speakers in the United States and none who lived near me).
2. I had a support group while I was learning Arabic, so I didn’t worry about making mistakes
3. By learning the language, I was able to learn more about the people, their culture and take a deep dive into their rich history.
4. I was able to understand beginner ELLs and use that knowledge and their language to help them engage more with learning in English (more about that in next week’s post).

*The Kuwaiti dialect is different from the Levant countries and Arabic spoken in Egypt, Tunisia, Morocco, and other Arab-speaking countries. It also differs slightly from other Arabian Gulf countries such as Saudi Arabia, Bahrain, Oman, Qatar and the UAE.

Part 3 – Return to Kuwait

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Parts were taken from this car parked on a residential street.

It took all of us quite some time for the news to sink in; that Kuwait had been liberated after seven months of occupation by a coalition of countries that came to assist Kuwait’s people. News crews sent back pictures of jubilation and devastation. Kuwaitis who stayed were finally coming out of their houses to welcome the liberators. The Kuwaiti flag flew for the first time since August 2nd. People didn’t have to fear for their lives if they showed their loyalty to Kuwait. Oil fires were burning in the south of Kuwait. The road to Mutla’a Ridge in the north was littered with burned out cars and trucks. There was so much to take in at once.

Soon families began making plans to reunite. Kuwaitis were scattered all over the world; UAE, Saudi Arabia, England, Spain, France, USA, Germany, Switzerland…We heard from my brother-in-law that the air was filled with smoke and there was a lot of infrastructure damage, but our homes had survived the destruction. The children, my husband and I were ecstatic to find out that my mother-in-law would be staying with us for two weeks in Spain and then spend some time in London with her other sons. We couldn’t wait to see her. My daughter was a newborn when we left in July 1990 and now she was almost ready to celebrate her first birthday.

My husband and I also discussed plans to return home. We were very concerned that my three year old would be affected by the smoke of the oil fires since he has asthma. We were also worried about furnishing our house which we had planned to do when we returned from vacation in September 1990. We decided to wait and see how long it would take the government (Emir, cabinet and parliament) to return from exile, and the predicted timeline for putting out the oil fires. By the end of April, it was clear that the oil fires would need months before a global group of specialist firefighters could end this environmental disaster. We also had to wait for commercial airlines to begin regular flights into Kuwait Airport.

A few weeks after Kuwait Airways (the national airline) made the announcement to begin flying from Malaga, Spain to Kuwait, we made our reservations to return home at the end of May. We packed our clothes and memories from the past ten months and closed up the apartment*, and said goodbye to many dear friends who supported us throughout the crisis. It was rather surreal and we weren’t sure what to expect when we landed.

It has been almost 30 years, but I will never forget what I saw when we entered Kuwait’s airspace. It was already evening; everything was dark in the desert except the glowing oil fires. I counted 1, 2, 3, 4 and then I stopped counting and I stopped looking out the window. I could feel my emotions as tears formed in my eyes (just the memory brings tears as I write this). When HE Sheikh Jaber Al Ahmed Al Sabah returned to Kuwait two weeks after the Liberation, he set foot on the tarmac, and knelt down to kiss the ground. That is how I felt when I landed. Grateful to be home, apprehensive about what I might see, but anxious to reunite with relatives and friends.

Perhaps it was a blessing that we arrived at night, so the true devastation and signs of the occupation, war, and its aftermath weren’t visible until we had time to rest after the journey. My daughter still had a crib in her room, but she was able to fall asleep. The boys eventually settled down after checking the basement where all their toys were to be sure everything was safe. My husband had decided to keep his 1988 Honda Civic at my mother in law’s house, where he thought it would be safe. When he picked it up after we returned, it had a bullet hole near the gas tank. I guess it wasn’t so safe on the main road to downtown where she lived…

The following days were a blur. We shopped for food, contacted family members to check on them, and took stock of what we still needed to buy for the house including a proper bed for my daughter. We also ventured out to see what damage had been done to our local community and to our favorite places. The first thing we noticed was the barbed wire on the median all along the Gulf Road and Corniche area. It was placed by the Iraqi troops because they assumed the initial assault by the Coalition would be from the sea. Then we drove downtown. The photos below show some of the damage.

Photos from June, 1991 show the Sheraton Hotel, Pizza Hut restaurant in the Al Muthanna Complex, and office building that has cement blocks in the windows to allow snipers a look out onto anyone on the street.

As the first weeks passed, we heard more and more stories about houses and buildings that were used to hold prisoners and torture them to confess they were working with the Resistance. My mother-in-law told us that she had moved into our house after the first day since the area where her house is located, on a main road to Kuwait City, was deemed unsafe. The rest of the family members who remained in Kuwait for the duration met weekly at our house and watched out our kitchen window as cars and trucks filled with items stolen from government institutions, offices, the National Museum and private homes were transported to Iraq.

When the time came in August to decide which school to enroll my sons, my husband and I visited a private American curriculum school we had planned to enroll them in for the 1990-1991 school year which they missed. That seemed to be the logical choice. We wanted to see if the building and resources were ready since we had heard most of them had some type of damage. I wondered if students could start on time. What I found was a makeshift room without air conditioning and a facility that was definitely not ready for school to start in a few weeks. Even though the staff assured me it would be cleaned up, repaired, and supplies ordered in time, I was reluctant to register my sons. We decided to enroll the boys in a different private American school that seemed to have sustained less damage. We hoped it would reopen on time.

The oil fires were gradually extinguished. Each time, the sky went black as if it was the middle of the night. On those days, we kept the children inside. Early in the Fall of 1991, the government announced that the remaining fires would be extinguished by November. The environmental damage left birds and wildlife covered in oil. Asthma and other respiratory diseases increased. Eventually, everyone had to wash the outside of their houses because they were covered with black streaks. You couldn’t wear light or white clothing because it also became black.

Epilogue
A few anecdotes have stayed with me for the past 29 years and I’d like to share them.
1. I noticed that the number of cars on the road was much fewer than before we traveled. I found out later that the occupying forces stole cars from people at checkpoints and many had ended up in Iraq.
2. The first time I saw it happen, I wondered what was going on. The speed limit on highways in Kuwait is 120 km/hr (about 75 mph) and it is unusual to see cars pull over. Then I realized both drivers were reuniting after months of not seeing each other. This happened many times over the first year back. It happened in supermarkets and stores. The emotion was visible.
3. My sons had a very difficult time when we returned. The trauma they had suffered as a result of the disruption to their routines, not knowing or seeing their grandmother, and overhearing about the war had a definite effect on them. The house was new to them and they each had their own room. Although our room was nearby, there were many nights they couldn’t fall asleep or woke up after a nightmare. My four year old seemed to be affected the most. He asked about the soldiers and wanted to know if we were safe. And one day while the oil fires were making the sky dark in the middle of the afternoon he asked me, “Mama, do you know what Saddam did?” “No”, what did he do?,” I replied. “He made the sun go away.”

*We couldn’t bring ourselves to return to the apartment. There were too many memories; we sold it in 1994.

Marriott Hotel on the coast of Kuwait. The photo on top is how the hotel looked before August 2, 1990. The photo at the bottom was taken in July 1991.