Oddly enough I was in Frankfurt on holiday when Saddam’s tanks rolled into Kuwait. Watching it on television with a German voice-over, it seemed surreal. The magnitude of what was happening struck home only when my plane landed in Dubai two weeks later. A serene quiet had engulfed the city, suppressing the desire to scream in fear of what would happen to us next.
The war became personal when our dearest Goan friends and their son were detained in Kuwait. The now infamous BA flight had landed in Kuwait for a routine refueling and was awaiting take-off, when what must have seemed like a split-second in eternity, the Iraqi army took control of Kuwait airport. Their detention played heavily on our minds. News of fellow Goan evacuees from Kuwait filled our hearts with despondency and dread. The eerie quiet that presided over Dubai sometimes gave way to the ridiculous. The German girl in our office came back with a gas-mark and evacuation plans from her embassy. The Indian embassy remained silent. We bought scotch-tape to seal our windows and bulked up on candles, rice and sugar. In the event of catastrophe presumably we were planning on a sugar-high. Amidst news of scud missiles aimed at Saudi Arabia and Israel, we learnt to make jokes and live in a time of unending uncertainty. In the early morning of January 17, 1991, we awoke to the news that America had struck. There was a collective sigh of relief. Overnight our city was bustling again, this time with sailors and soldiers who used Dubai as a refueling and R&R port. I was young, there were handsome men in town and part of my job involved taking them on tours and safaris. Suddenly the macabre reality of war was replaced by our fickle desire to forget, to dance and make merry. There were endless parties to entertain the troops, who strangely never spoke of the war, the wounded or the dead. They spoke of the green, green grass of Wyoming and the streets of Texas. Perhaps people are inclined to repress memory of such events or perhaps people dehumanize and sterilize the worst aspect of being human. Killing other human beings. By February 17th, it was over. I watched from the window of my office, scores of Kuwaiti refugees stream into the streets waving American flags. I have never seen so many American flags in Arab hands. The Saudis and Emiratis were safe. We were all safe. The threat had passed away guided as if by the invisible hand of the Divine. Ten years later 15 Saudis and 2 Emiratis would guide their own missiles into the World Trade Center of the United States. --------------------------------- Your input/further information welcome. selma
