In Search of the Real Kuwait

After being in Kuwait only 10 days I can hardly expect to be an expert on the city.  My first days have been taken up with shopping and preparing to start a new job.  I travel back and forth and see little of what I expect is the heart of the city.  I am exhausted and have retired to bed when evening comes, and miss the life that starts here at sundown.  I pass buildings that show little evidence of being in use, and the school where I work is still empty of students. So I still have little feel for what I call the "real Kuwait".   This is not the western style shopping malls with their food courts full of chain restaurants and international brand names. I know the locals shop and eat there, but where is their food?

What stores sell their clothing, the white robes for men, and the black burkas for women? Where are their antique stores, handicraft and souvenirs of Kuwait? The Arabic language makes everything look quite authentic and ethnic, but the signs usually advertise a western company.  This sign is TGI Fridays.  And even the local fast-food places sell Lebanese, Indian or Chinese.
A teacher pointed me in the direction of yet another mall that she said sold cheaper products. I stepped in to the large multistory building and gazed at the racks and racks of what seemed to be the same item of clothing. I assumed they must be uniforms for school. One alcove displayed bows of all kinds, but of only one color...pink.

As the hour got later, the mall filled up. All the women shopping were in black and the men in white. There was a call to prayer and the men took up their position in the center of the shopping area to pray. I not only felt out of place, I felt like I was intruding. This was not my culture, I was dressed in too much color and showing too much skin.  We left.
The city of Kuwait, where I live is similarly colorless. The landscape is sandy, with sand colored buildings and no variety of paint color.  The majority of the cars and buses are white. The sky is a hazy white.  The little bit of greenery is baked dry in the sun or is covered in dust. There are no window boxes or washing hanging out to dry.  I find myself looking for color.
One way to get an insight into a people is to go through the process of applying for a visa in that country. It is a gruesome ordeal which consists mainly of standing in lines for hours on end. (The longest I stood in line was for my US visa - 7 hours.)  You must stand before workers behind windows, be patient, follow directions precisely, not ask questions and be

 ready for the process to break down at any step.
As a new teacher I went on a bus at 6 am to do necessary medical exams.  We were marched in, lined up, divided into men and women, and gestured at.  It seemed like we were going to the front of the line, and hurried through.  One room took my picture, and stamped my passport, another gave me a vial, and stamped my passport, then in another they took my blood, and stamped my passport... then I undressed, posed for an x-ray and had my passport stamped one more time. There really wasn't much time waiting in line, but I did find the time to examine one office.  This worker obviously liked his job and had decided that the place needed some decorations. I was intrigued by the collection of antiques and tacky souvenirs: old coke bottles, a 50 year old TV, radio and telephone, a tin of powdered milk and an huge rat trap.  A delightfully colorful collection of meaningful stuff! It reminded me of someone's grandmother's house, full of history and memories.  Not bad for a place that deals with blood and form stamping.

The truth is that, where I live most people are transplants like me.  I live in a building with other teachers who have moved here to work in the American School.  The neighborhood is home to workers from India, Bangladesh, Pakistan and the Philippines. We have all come here and brought a bit of our own culture with us, our food, language, dress and religion. And foreignness has crowded out the true Kuwait.  I will have to venture further out, away from home, and scratch the surface of the flat, colorless landscape to find the real culture here... the culture that was here before all of us foreigners arrived.
But I do appreciate their allowing us in.  The sheer number of people who are going through this visa process with me is testament to the size of the Kuwaiti welcome.  I am also aware that I have it easier than others. My school has "wasta", an Arabic word meaning clout.  And that "wasta" will open doors for me and allow me in to places that would normally be closed to foreigners. But it is up to me to take advantage of those open doors and pass through and find the real Kuwait.