Memories of the Kuwait War~Chapter 7~ The poison gas attack

Picture courtesy: Google

Days and weeks slowly crept by. From our usual window spot, we could see Iraqi men out on the streets in local Arab attire, so we were guessing they were not soldiers, but the civilians who came into the country along with the military. (Don’t ask me how I guessed they were Iraqi men...I just knew! 😜 ). Acha still didn’t have any money come into his account, I think, because I know he kept going to the ATM every now and then. With almost no money in hand, my father was desperate.

One day, we siblings were inside our bedroom doing our own stuff......like me crocheting a doily (they taught us crochet in school), my brother reading ‘Secret Seven' trying to sharpen his detective skills, and my sister as usual playing with her soft toys and tricycle. We heard loud talking in the living room. It was an unfamiliar voice in a strange accent, that was the loudest. Don’t get me wrong, they weren’t arguing, just talking loudly. “Lets go see who that is”, and we ran out the bedroom door.

In the living room, also called “sitting room” in our house.......(by the way, we still call it the ‘sitting room'). Coming back, so....In the ‘sitting room' there was a tall Iraqi man dressed in a white robe, talking with my father. The front door was open and hearing the voices, my neighbours came in too. There was Raju uncle and Pepsi uncle near the door. (I don’t know Pepsi uncle’s name. He worked in Pepsi co. So we called him Pepsi uncle!). The Iraqi man was talking to my father about money and they seemed to be bargaining. What was happening soon became clear. Acha sold the fridge (the new big one. We had an old smaller one too, which was working and we kept it), the TV and one more thing I don’t remember. Raju uncle and Pepsi uncle didn’t sell anything. The guy was clear, he paid correctly, took the things and left cordially. “Hmm, Iraqi people are nice. They are not scary as we imagined!”, I thought. That was an unnecessary thought anyway, because one of our neighbours from a previous building were Iraqi, and they were the sweetest people you would ever meet.

Now Acha was relieved that he finally got some money in his hands. We went back to our room while Acha, our neighbor uncles and Amma sat talking about big things that didn’t interest us. We had dinner and went to bed. A couple more days went by. Acha used to regularly go out to some office, to check the status of our application and whether we have been approved a bus to leave. Nothing was ready yet. In the meantime, sorting, discarding, and packing was underway. We were getting ready to leave as soon as we got the call.

Hours turned to days and days to weeks. I finished reading all the Famous Five, Secret Seven, Nancy Drew and Hardy Boys books we had. We had a huge collection, and I now had nothing new to read. I finished making my doily, and once I was done, I packed all of them into my school bag. It started to get boring now as Amma didn’t allow us to go play with friends across the block. The only children available were my two siblings and Pepsi uncle’s children. I was the oldest one among the lot and play time wasn’t  much fun with these kiddos. I started looking forward to the bus being approved. 

As usual Acha went out again one morning to check on the list approval, and came back rather worried. He sat with Amma and the two of them were talking very seriously. When I went to the ‘sitting room', they changed the subject. “Hmm!!! I wonder why they stopped. Did we not get approval to go?”, I thought. Throughout the day Acha was seen to be very busy going out with the neighbour uncles and coming back with big pieces of cardboard and sponge. Amma was keeping aside old bedsheets and thick curtains. I had no clue what was going on. They didn’t tell me either, when I asked.

Finally when Acha went out again, we asked Amma, and it was then that we got to know. She explained, “Saddam Hussain has bombed many places in the city and near the sea side. Some people have died in the past few days. He is now going to let open some poisonous gas tank tonight, it said in the news. Go inside and pray”. I was too naive for my age, but I was definitely good at my studies and I knew what that gas tank opening meant. Everything started to make sense....why my parents were collecting cardboard, sponge, old thick bedsheets and curtains, etc., and why they were so worried.

Acha came back with rolls of duct tape and insulation tape. The adults all gathered in our flat and started sealing all the cracks and spaces between the doors, windows and AC holes. He suggested that all the families on that floor, this is, us, Pepsi uncle and family, Raju uncle (his family was in India as well), and one more new family who moved into our building recently, sleep in the same house.....Ours. I heard him say, “If we die, let’s all die together.” 

Everybody came in by around 7pm. The new family didn’t, they decided to stay in their own flat. The neighbours brought their mattresses and extra pillows. Our room (where my brother and I slept) was more spacious, as in , there was less furniture, so all the mattresses were put down in our room. That would be where all of us 10 people would sleep that night.

After dinner, we all prayed together. Acha was very emotional. I heard him pray for his mother and all his siblings. He was asking God to keep them safe and watch over them. He was thanking God for all the blessings He showered upon us all this while, and also begged for forgiveness for everything he did wrong. He was crying. I felt very sad. After the prayers, he hugged us so hard we couldn’t breathe. He kissed the 3 of us so many times. My face was wet with his tears. I heard him tell Amma, “Close the front door, but don’t lock it. They should be able to open it without damaging it in the morning.” I lay down to sleep scared that I wouldn’t wake next morning. Tears ran down my face. I didn’t want to die.

~priya~