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The Dismantling of War Kuwait, Arabian Gulf They took down the wooden boards today--the ones that barricaded our apartment from enemy assault. There is still a small room off to the corner of the lobby which is boarded up and closed tight with locks. That sequestered space was where we women and children were going to be ushered into during an invasion, assuring our safety from violating males. I will be relieved when they dismantle that space too. Elsewhere in Kuwait, they have removed the heavy armored tanks and machine gun posts from the entrances to the downtown area. Even the road blocks are few these days and one can roam about the country with little fear of being questioned. A few days ago I waved at one of the last visible Kuwaiti soldiers keeping watch. As our car drove past the serious gentleman in uniform, I flashed a big American smile and waved a friendly hello. My friend, protecting me from possible disappointment, said “He won't be able to respond back.” Seconds later, though, the soldier gave me a timid little wave. It made my day. Things are finally getting back to normal. I can actually sleep at night now without the terrifying sound of military jets screaming past my apartment building. I never knew for sure if these flying machines were friend or foe and the eerie mechanical screech made me think of 9/11 over and over again. It would be so easy for an aircraft to crash into my building. There are 5 blocks (apartment buildings) all clustered together on the security-guarded, Kuwait University campus. All of us who live here are lecturers, instructors, or professors at the university. Our buildings are out in the middle of nowhere and are a tall, visible target for anyone flying by. On the outside our blocks are beige, like everything else in Kuwait, but inside the homes are bursting with the colorful life of families from around the world--Egypt, Jordan, Palestine, India, Pakistan, Afghanistan, Phillipines, Great Britain, Canada, and America. There are only a few of us Americans left. There were never too many of us to begin with, but now we are down to about 4 or 5. I live in Block # 3. My neighbors are all Arabs with delightful children who wave excitedly to me every time I venture out of my home. They find my blue eyes and white skin to be a constant source of amusement. Lately, I too have been finding my Caucasian features to be amusing. They stand out so blatantly here-such a contrast to the dark-skinned, dark-eyed beauties of the East. Some people here have a strong superstition about blue eyes. They think these orbs are associated with “the evil eye”. When glancing at me, they whisper “masha'allah”, meaning “Allah protect me from the evil eye”. I have one student in the classroom who refuses to look into my eyes for too long and who has forbidden me to wear blue when around her because this accentuates my “cat eyes”. Last week, while having a conference with her, I had to keep looking at the floor because she became increasingly anxious during our conversation. I asked her “Are my eyes bothering you?” “Yes,miss”, she replied shyly. “Do not worry, sweetheart”, I told her. “Allah made my eyes just like Allah made your eyes.” Still, I tried to look at her as little as possible so that I would not upset her unnecessarily. As she left my office I heard her whisper “masha'allah....” |
“If the whole world got down on its knees one day and begged the Creator, begged the universe itself, for new life, new solutions to our problems, we just might take a quantum leap in our consciousness and find a creative alternative to battlefields and brigades. And then, maybe, we could celebrate the permanent dismantling of war.” |
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