We’ve been living in Kuwait City for about a week now. Living because we’ve been given a furnished flat by the company my husband works for. Which means shopping for groceries, cooking, cleaning and laundry to do, unlike staying which means hotel, sightseeing and eating all meals out.
It’s a quiet, fairly spacious, flat in downtown Kuwait City. The sea front is just 10 minutes away on foot. On Friday evening – which is the weekly holiday here – we took a long walk along the beach. It was also the beginning of the Liberation Day weekend, the 26th anniversary of the end of the First Gulf War. A quarter century ago a lot of adults living here now were kids or young adults and have memories of the war. There is an awareness and appreciation of what it means to be free, and it comes through in the energy you feel swirling around, a feeling of relief and joy that conveys they don’t take freedom for granted. The parents’ indulgent expressions as they watch their kids run around freely seem to say “thank god they can have a childhood like this.”
Families were out in full strength fishing, flying kites and having picnics. Nobody has picnics in Bangalore any more, so happy families eating biryani sitting together on sheets spread on the sand was a heartwarming sight that brought back childhood memories.
There was a cool sea breeze and the sun set in blue-grey and gold, understated spectacular, like discreet jewelry.
It rained all Saturday, so we stayed indoors.
Sunday brought great weather and celebrating crowds out into the streets. Kids were dressed in the colours of the Kuwait national flag.
We were warned by locals that the kids would be hurling water-filled balloons at people on the sidewalk. We took the risk and had a couple of near-misses, but it was fun being out there among happy people. It was fun to see kids throwing water-filled balloons and squirting water at passing cars using water guns, thoroughly enjoying themselves.
We spent the evening in the historic Souk Al-Mubarakeya market that sold everything from toys, fabrics, garments, vegetables, fruits and spices – to gold. Lots of gold.
We peeped curiously into a shop selling what looked like wood chips. The young owner invited us in for a sweet (in plate in the corner of counter in pic) and a shot-glass sized tumbler of Kuwaiti coffee that is brewed along with cardamom and boiled till it is reduced to a thick decoction. No milk, no sugar. The shop sold pieces of the bark of different trees brought from Assam in India for burning like incense in homes here. He told us he had lived in the US – mostly in LA – for six years as a student. He missed the burgers at In-N-Out the most, and in a burst of loyalty to In-N-Out, he disdained McDonald’s as “only for the homeless!”
The market encloses a vast square surrounded by small eateries. It was packed with diners and we found it hard to find a table. Mountains of food on huge platters kept arriving at tables, borne aloft and deftly served by agile and expert waiters. What a sight! (pic below)
The evening ended with a short fireworks display with infants screaming in terror at the din. I remembered how my kids had cried in fear on their first Diwali and smiled to myself. Rites of passage . . .
The 26th is also considered part of the Liberation Day although 25th is the official one. That was the day in 1991 when the last few Iraqi soldiers who remained at the Kuwait airport had been vanquished.
Yesterday was the 26th. We walked to Kuwait tower which is about 5 km from our apartment block. The scenes were exactly like the day before: kids, kids, kids running around everywhere, squealing and shrieking with joy; water-filled balloons splattering, water guns squirting, flags flying, cars adorned with flags cruising, happy families picnicking on the little grassy spots that must have been carefully nurtured as nothing seems to grow here except date palms and petunias!
In fact, on the way to Kuwait tower I was surprised to see a stray hollyhock plant in full bloom in a square little flower bed outside an office block. Was it planted and forgotten? Its stem was bent at right angles and lay parallel to the ground. What a pity. She could’ve been ‘the stately lady hollyhock’ if someone had watched over her.
Anyway, it was another lovely evening both in terms of weather and the festive atmosphere. Walking back, we passed the marina where rows of dhows were tied to the jetty. It looked beautiful lit up the way it was. All of Kuwait City did, in fact.
Tomorrow the city will return to normal: kids will go to school, men will go to work and women will tend to their homes and children, I suppose. And the streets will be swept clean of the colourful debris of celebration, the rubber balloons gleefully tossed and abandoned.