Creative story
A
Day out in the Kuwait Streets
Looking
from the top of the five-star hotel, Majid was not only amazed by the beautiful
expanse ultra-modern city whose buildings seemed to have been constructed at the
same time, but also marveled at the way the people adorned red clothing walking
along the well-manicured pedestrians paths beside the asphalt roads and
highways. He remembered the history of Kuwait City;
that it was razed to the ground in 1950s and consequently planned afresh to
denote the rapidly growing urban town as a resultant to its inexhaustible
petroleum wells. The buildings designers seemed to have come from the same school
of thought because the minarets of the mosques and other espoused architect
designs indicated a kind of commonality.
Camels patronized
the city streets below Majid’s eyes as if in constant competition with the
sleek cars that announced the luxuriant life of this oil rich Arabian country. A
line of dhows that was magnificent from this point dotted the blue shinning
coastline of the turquoise sea to his far left, and to the far end, the heavy
machinery of cranes announced the busy sea port. He could smell the fresh and
rather fermented oil from sharks used on the dhows in addition the fresh fish
smell which also drifted to his nostrils from the fish market just on the
shores. All manner of sounds emanated from the sea front; from waves pounding the
coast sand to jingling bells hung on camels and donkeys necks. Beach boys’
yells to lure people to what they were selling seemed to offer accompaniment to
the natural sounds which now was music to Majid’s ears. The morning warm and
cool nourishing sun heightened Majid’s senses to the sounds on the beach before
his eyes, the mono-color that dominated the town, and to the now monotonous
fish smell which seemed to become more vivid.
He remembered his meeting
with Hawthorne.
Glancing at his wrist watch, 8:45 am it was. He would meet him at 9:30 am and
therefore he had plenty of time to while away before he rushed to Mr. Hawthorne
office to discuss what they had termed as classified information. Majid had
this habit of rising quite early for sightseeing sprees wherever he traveled to
a new city
after performing his Muslim prayers. This mission had offered himself the
opportunity to visit Kuwait
after he had only heard stories from news and friends who had visited it. He
relished the thought of coming to Kuwait where he had learnt a lot concerning
its climate, architecture, cultures and the religious belief of the Kuwaitis. With
a feeling of pride inside him, he walked from the scintillating balcony to his
hotel room where he changed to the loose fitting Muslim cloth and sun glasses.
Feeling ready to tackle the events of the day he and set off for the meeting
since he was time conscious. If he were to be rated among worlds most punctual
men, his name would be among the top ten he thought a smile forming in his
lips.
“Salaam Alekum,” greeted Mr. Hawthorne
after Majid was ushered in by his secretary.
“Alekum Salaam,” replied Majid smiling
to reveal his white big teeth.
“Welcome to my office
Mr. Majid. How was your night?” said Mr. Hawthorne as he gestured to him to an
empty seat.
“Fine. Thank you.”
“Hope you don’t mind
going for cup of coffee as we get the heads-up”
“Not at all. I
would very much love cup of coffee,” answered Majid.
“Coffee is the
only drink people have to content with because they have outlawed anything that
has alcohol content in it being sold in this city.”
Hawthorne and Majid
laughed at this as they walked out of the office. Hawthorne remembered very well how he had met
Majid at the airport a few days ago. He had been sent by the American
intelligence service to help him in his secret mission to collect intelligence reports
on the neighboring country Iran.
Since the Iranian government
had been very strict on the foreigners entering the country, the only
option which remained was to spy on Iran
from Kuwait,
sometimes getting to the border for close scrutiny. As they sat down on the
farthest table on the veranda of this café, Hawthorne could not help noticing the beauty
of this city.
“Did you know I
like this city because the culture of these people is quite conservative on
their morals and ethics such that you can not find prostitutes and call girls
who to some extent influence men in other societies," ventured Hawthorne.
“I agree with you
on this. In many cities, especially coastal towns across the world you will find
people walking almost naked but not in this country. I actually envy them. With
these moral principles exercised strictly in the society as is the case in
this country, people indeed could pleasure principles.” Majid said laughing.
As Hawthorne and Majid
let this thought sink, they observed the women walking on the streets nearby
covered from their heads to toes in black lobes despite the boiling temperatures.
Not that they did not feel the heat but because they were accustomed. Mr. Hawthorne
remembered with mirth the spectacle on would find in the beaches of his home
town of Florida.
Women in bikinis sunbathing for skin tan, men in their under-wears stealing their
wives sun lotions for a protective layer, newly wed lovers passionately
drowning themselves in kisses while children dash here and there making mountings sand,
oblivious of the almost naked adults. Here is different he thought to himself.
“Do you know why
many people here wear red clothes?” asked Majid.
“No. Why don’t
they choose another color? This red is quite annoying and offending to the eye,”
replied Hawthorne
amused with this new observation, which he had never noticed before.
“Red is a color which
the Kuwaitis adore for it is believed to bring prosperity and joy,” informed Majid.
“I was informed the other day by this old man who told me a lot about Kuwait. Their
artifacts, weavings and buildings are painted with or dyed in red which signify
the plainness of their lives and aspirations rather than the aspect of
extravagance.”
“You
have indeed learnt a lot within the few days you have been here. Hope you will take
me around and act as my translators since my language is very poor. I never
intermingle well with the locals because they negatively view me as a white and
my language put them off. You are like one of them.”
“The
other day I witnessed some horrible incident,” Majid volunteered in. “A man was
lynched to death through stoning right before me. When I inquired what he had done,
one of the spectators told me he was caught committing adultery. This is a very
serious crime punishable through stoning.”
“That’s so gross. Does the
government allow mob justice of such a manner?” asked Hawthorne with as worried look.
“Of
course. How else would you expect such disciplines to come by?” Majid answered pointing
to men passing in the streets. “Total obedience to authority is quite a norm in
this country. Breaking rules will cost your life so be on the safe side and be
a good boy.” They all laughed at that.
A
light explosion was heard several metres from where they were seated. As they
could observe every detail of the scene, a camel laid dead on the streets.
People gathered around and after one of the men had sat rising his hands in supplication, he stood up and cut the camel’s neck, blood oozed out and painted the earth
red. Other people as if given the cue started to cut the meat to their fill
until the last piece. Dogs scavenged the remaining pieces and licked the ground
to finalize the feast. Such was a day out in the City of Kuwait.
As
they sipped the coffee, sweet aroma of this crop may be from highlands of Kenya drifting
to their noses, they revisited their plan. They would set off at night fall to
transverse the desert land to the border until they sneaked through all the security checks at the border. They knew it was tedious and dangerous too, but they knew
it had to be done. Iran’s
guards were known for their vicious punishment once they caught spies, but Hawthorne
and Majid had their entire map covered having established an inner informer.
They parted at the café to get prepared for the mission to help save the
world because the location of Iran’s
nuclear production sites had to be identified for destruction.
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