The Postman's knock has to be answered

This is an open letter to a dear friend of mine - the one and only Ms.Q8 whom I thought I always knew very well, or so I had imagined.

Dear Ms. Q8 :


Hiya! It feels good to be back; to hear your voice again (sorry if that just sounded like some Wataniya telecom ad); half knowing even what to expect of you. Over the years, I have grown very fond of you in part, because you had a special way of growing on us and I am eternally grateful to you for all your kindness and all the other wonderful things you have done for us. Gracias!

First impressions, they say, always are lasting impressions! And it is no different with you : I always thought of you as a sleek and sophisticated nation of non conformist, reformist urbanists – a beacon of hope and dynamism in the 21st century Gulf. You won’t prove me wrong, will you now, I keep mumbling to myself constantly under my breath? Imagine my surprise therefore, when on my return, and to my horror I find out my gf can no longer get a cut and finish from a male coiffeur at the deluxe hotel we are staying at presently. It is mumnoo no questions asked. A seemingly trifle bother, nevertheless; it's totally uncalled for is what I think. Anyway, I thought I’ll let this pass. Again, strangely I felt in the mood to play Bingo later that day so I picked up a copy of the local daily I could get my hands on but there again you disappoint me – I was informed they now have clamped on newspaper Bingo period. Apparently, it’s not good for you. Sad. Sad to see the obituary of mundane everyday things that added charm to our life and perked up our days, and indeed, our nights living and working in Kuwait.

Take Two. I am reminded of Kuwait in 1963 from before the time of a ban on alcohol came in force. This was when I came to Kuwait the first time on a backpacking trail. Oh, what a lovely time that was when you could settle down afterhours with a pint of lager in your hand in the privacy of your club or home listening to the radio, or reading or making conversation with the company you had ( I especially have fond memories of wining and dining with the Joneses’ at the Hunting & Equesterian Club). Alright, I am just a little bit in the mood to pick a tiny bone with you vis-a-vis the blanket ban on the sale and consumption of alcohol today. I will grant you that all things said and done, it was rather a good riddance but you do begin to wonder sometimes whether banning of alcohol per se, made life in Kuwait any better than before, and for whom?! Okiedokie, I’ll let this pass too.

Take Three. The first time I stepped off an airplane at the then, swanky new Kuwait International airport was in 1979 when I was coming in from Tehran just after the Revolution there had started, and boy was I struck by the grandeur of the new arrivals hall – gleaming white marble hallways with brightly lit ceilings and spotlessly clean flooring and a scent of eau de cologne to complete that effect, found pervading the terminal building air. Back then, I suppose you didn’t have those Auschwitz style gas chambers passing off as designated smoking areas anymore than you had a terminal building bursting at its seams with passengers at departure gates; so full and packed to the brim that they actually start to resemble a can of sardines. Fast forward to 2009. Only last week, I was transiting through Maktoum International Airport in Dubai en route to Kuwait. On arrival in Kuwait you can’t help compare and contrast the two airports – the sheer scale and opulence of Dubai airport is thrown in a sharp relief against the rickety yet still somewhat functional Kuwait airport. Giving credit where it’s due, the only positives I could come up with in favor of Kuwait airport are the short distances from the gates to the waiting area in the arrivals hall and the sheer abundance of porters to help you with your luggage in the baggage claims area - something which Kuwait International scores most uniquely over most other airports in the world. Bravo, alek ya Kuwait and thank heaven for small mercies! In a sense, the present apathy and inertia toward investing in Kuwait airport is proving a blessing in disguise to the many travel dreary passengers who after a long transatlantic flight staying coped up in a cattle class cabin do not have an airport walkathon thrust on them upon arrival. Will let that pass as it be because we are such good friends – you and I. Anyone smell a rat here? Well, of course, it isn’t the wasta rat.

Take Four. But what to say of the general level of cleanliness (or the lack of it) on Kuwait streets these days ? Surely, you cannot not have a municipality whose job is other than to keep Kuwait clean and spiffed up? And no, we are not drawing parallels here with either Singapore or Abu Dhabi. Large urban sprawls in Kuwait are on the verge of turning into Chitty! Shitty! Chittagongs (of sorts) from all the squalor and dirt of the municipality’s undoing. Are they all at the Baladiya on chronic French leave since the liberation of Kuwait, which happened some twenty odd years ago? This azeezati, neither you nor I can pretend being oblivious to. Sorry, if I have sounded harsh and overreacting but it’s only because I care. I care deeply about you and about our friendship. After all what are friends for ? I would be failing in my duty as a loyal friend if I didn’t tell you like it is.

So, c’mon cutie pie Ms. Q8 - you can do much better than that, and I know it you shall!

Bestest regards,
The Argumentative Palestinian