A Desert Storms Into Independence

by Tuesdey Kenner (United States of America)

A leap into the unknown Kuwait

I was so confused when we turned onto the small interstate in Kuwait from the airport. Why are they in the streets? Is the traffic always like this? What is going on? Why are they jumping onto their cars and using sound horns? What have I gotten myself into? I just stared wondering what is going to happen next. Shaving cream bottles waved excitedly in the air with potential to whiten your car as so many Kuwaiti's celebrated in the streets, as they did every year since 1991. They had their freedom thanks to the help of the U.S. from Saddam Hussein's destroying wrath upon their beloved country. Justin, my uncle, just stared them down, through the windows of his brand new, fresh from the factory 2008 Cadillac Escalade, with intent to harshly put everyone in their place with his stern 6'4" broad shoulder demeanor. He did not joke about his car being plastered with shaving cream. One look at his face showed everyone willing to easily spray everything to just walk away. "Independence Day" he mumbled, clearly disgruntled that this had interrupted his daily routine. I couldn't help it, I just wanted to continue to watch. I was secretly hoping it would take most of the day to make this 15 minute trip. I was delighted. The colors, the clothing, the free spirit, and mostly the lack of concern for actual safety in the streets of an interstate. Small children riding on the hoods and roofs of vehicles, babies riding in driver seats with the designated driver. I was in complete shock. Yes traffic was slow, but still moving! I was moving to make a lifestyle and financial change. More money less past. My two children would move here shortly with me once I got on my feet. They momentarily resided with their father and his girlfriend until I worked it all out. He was not happy about his children relocating across the globe, but as his feelings were not my concern, it was going to be my way. He had his new life with his new girlfriend, whom he cheated on me. This is going to go my way this time. As we reached our 2 bedroom marbled floor flat greeted by our live in full time house manager, her strong accent was like a guided song. I just wanted to speak her native language. She was so warming. As the middle east goes, it was very common to have someone cook and clean for you around the clock as Americans. I couldn't let her though. I would cook and clean for myself. I can not let someone clean up after me. Then, I tasted her food, I could probably let someone cook for me. I would never get the chance to eat this food on my own. I can't cook this deliciousness, yum. The food was one of the most amazing experiences I've ever had. The spices and vegetable mixes with meat fresh from the markets prepared right in that kitchen. I watched her cook in awe. Everything was so good. She wouldn't let me help clean up, it was irritating. I had to eventually get over it. My roommates finally convinced me that it was better to let her run her house. As a mother, I understood that, no matter the culture or the language. As my first evening went on, Justin encouraged me to get out and go for a walk, dusk was settling in and I wanted to see the people, the stores. I set out. I head out and head down the sidewalk, about a mile from our flat I began noticing that there were not many people walking anymore. I was feeling more alone and more concerned that I was out of place. I was. A white American woman looking much younger than her age was out alone on the side of a Middle Eastern road. Stores closing and people heading to their cars, I had no money on me as my uncle did not prepare me. What do I do now? Walk back. Wait! Which way did I come from? I turn, I'm feeling the panic. TAXI, HELP!