Memories of the Kuwait War~Chapter 9~ The Exodus begins!

 

Picture courtesy : Google

It was just past daybreak when our bus finally set out from the huge ground, along with around 5 to six more, just like ours. I saw that the early morning rays were so soft and beautiful, but they also brought heaviness to my heart. Though I didn’t sleep much the night before, I was determined not to doze off. I wanted to absorb all the scenes, every single image of what was left of the country that was home to me for so long. 

The bus moved slowly ahead through unfamiliar roads of Northern Kuwait towards Iraq, as we munched on the sandwiches, and gulped down flavoured milk that we had carried for breakfast. We were supposed to go to Amman ( the capital of Jordan) where the Red Cross had set camp for us refugees. Its was mostly deserted and dry after a while, with nothing much to see. Small Bedouin houses (Bedouin= nomadic desert dwelling Arabs) could be seen here and there with sad looking trees. It must be so dry out her that the people hardly water their plants, I thought. I leaned back into my seat, bringing back memories of my school, my friends, our neighbourhood, all the TV shows and cartoons I watched, all the food I enjoyed and of course our church, Sunday school and the choir. 

Kuwait being a small country and predominantly a Muslim country, Christian churches were something you wouldn't find everywhere. There were just 2 of them in the capital, Kuwait City. One was the Catholic Church and the other bigger one was called N.E.C.K (National Evangelical Church, Kuwait), where the non-Catholics went. We used to go to the N.E.C.K, which was huge, with a main church in the massive compound and many smaller halls all around. Different churches (or Sabhas) had services at different times, spread over the week, in the various halls allotted to them. Ours being one of the bigger congregations, we had our Church services in the main church every Saturday evening. I remembered how we were allowed to go to church one last time, since the war broke out. I loved my church and all the activities we as kids were made to participate in. It used to make me so happy to go to church every week....but that day, I saw something inside the church building that made me angry. Pictures of Saddam Hussein were stuck on the inside walls of the church. I couldn’t accept it. How could they stick his picture inside the house of God!? For us, he was the villain, the bad guy! And now he adorns the walls of our holy place?! “Look at that, Amma!”, I fiercely whispered in between the prayers. She ‘shhh-ed’ me, visibly annoyed at it, but helpless at the same time, continued repeating the prayers after the priest.

“Move!”, that annoying voice shot like a bullet in my ear, “It’s my turn now, to sit near the window. You’re not even looking outside, simply sitting and dreaming beside the window!” Agh! My brother!! We had agreed upon taking turns at the window seat. Well, since the view wasn’t exciting anyways, I moved to the middle seat, not forgetting to chide him, “Don’t shout! Just ask nicely!!”

The bus went on forward, eating up the bland miles, until it stopped in the middle of nowhere for our loo break. It had been a while since we set out and was almost afternoon, I guess. A toilet break was most welcome, but where? There weren’t any toilets in the middle of the desert, of course. We had to go wherever we pleased!! Thankfully, where we stopped wasn’t flat and sandy. It was more of a rocky, rough terrain with patches of hummocks all around. Some ground-hugging shrubs and small wooded trees were sparsely scattered around. Everybody chose their own private ‘toilet’ and so did we. Amma took me and my sister while Acha went with my brother. It was so difficult to use an open endless desert with my eyes panning in all directions to make sure no one was looking. The sun was burning down on us, that we just wanted to finish and run back to the bus. Water was another problem. Holding up a 1 litre bottle, Amma said, “We have only this much water for the 3 of us.” Oh, how I missed our bathroom back home in Kuwait. The bidet shower suddenly seemed like the most amazing invention of all time. I felt terribly guilty for all the water I wasted those 12-13 years of my life. Well, we had to make do with what we had, and my mother being an expert in rationing, saved a little bit so we could wash the sand off our feet too, as we climbed back into the bus. 

Slowly everybody hopped on and we set off on the rest of our journey. We were back in our seats, having our packed lunch (I don't remember what it was), while still looking out the window. There was still a long way to go.

~priya~