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Oregon
checking
Kuwait's
dreadful |
kuwait diary On August 2, 1990, the phone rang at around 7 AM and woke me from my sleep on my sister's sofa. It was Lalla, asking me if I'd heard the news-Iraq had invaded Kuwait. What we talked about after she told me that, I can't remember, but it didn't sink in immediately that we weren't going home in September, that we no longer had homes or jobs. I'm ashamed to admit it, but the first thing I thought was, "my stuff." After the call, I sat on the living room floor playing game after game of Solitaire, and maybe a few games of Gin with Kara. I just didn't know what to do. Suddenly, I had to plan my life from that moment forward.
November
25, 1991 I got my visa into Kuwait today and plan to go over the UAE's National Day which will be celebrated over December 1 and 2 (it is the 20th this year). I'll have three and a half working days and may need to stay over. But I'm hopeful about getting my gratuity and seeing an end to it all, though it won't really be over until I have my things back from Baghdad [such naive hopes!] and am settled back in the States permanently [also naive, I'm afraid]. As long as I'm here I'll compare Abu Dhabi to Kuwait and the former always loses that competition [it doesn't now]. I feel STRANGE about going back to Kuwait: I want to see it but I can't bear that I'll probably be seeing it for the last time. Feelings of loss are bobbing up again and a feeling of being cheated. I even feel cheated out of participating in Kuwait's reconstruction although I could have gone there. But I felt and feel that I have nothing there but memories and that maybe these events gave me the shove (very violent shove) I needed to get out. I don't want my good memories turned to bitter ones [as I think happened with some who did go back]. It seems like the time to make the break. Yet here I am-still in the Middle East, and hating it this time and longing to be home somewhere. So I've got to get this business finished and move on.
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