Working in Kuwait 1/2

I worked in Kuwait from 1985-1988. Iraq and Iran were at war but you wouldn’t know it. War’s death echoed far away.

I ditched my interpreter - the minder - and vanished into a souk surrounded by high rise silver towers financed with desert oil revenue.

Small twisted medieval dirt alleys contained every sight, sound, smell and vibration of human existence. This was the vitality of Kuwait for me. Crafty merchants with long braided beards bartered cloth, sandals, soaps, running shoes, spices, pots, pans, shovels, hoses, stereos and watches.

There were suitcases, hair cream, candy, wrenches, apples, oranges, utensils, fresh goat meat, nuts, berries, trinkets, prayer beads, carpets, gold, bells, gongs, knives, hammers, henna, embroidery, baskets and tea, mixed with babbling tongues and laughter. Inside long shadows men gurgled hubbly bubbly pipes flipping scarred dominoes with gnarled fingers discussing multiple wives, children, fishing, pearls and the price of exile.

If you think it’s easy, let alone romantic, living here in this sweltering land of endless horizons then, “you got another think coming,” as my old man used to say.

Sure, the money's good, the weather’s fine for eight months of the year. You can consume all the material goods your little heart desires, maids and drivers are cheap but look at the down side.

Dust storms called shamals blast south from Turkey obliterating all vision. Fine silt covers everything, gets in your eyes and ears, brings on depression and anxiety. Temperatures from June to September never drop below 110-120 degrees. You forget what a cloud looks like, blank brown landscapes warp your brain.

Natives carried clandestine images of snow capped mountains or pastoral valleys in their pocket. People with cash complain constantly about not being able to get out of Kuwait.

People with money and a villa in Geneva, London or Monte Carlo left long ago for the summer driving around Europe in a rental for a change of scenery.

Social life here was like doing research with atomic particles. The uncertainty principle. You have to know what you want, what’s remotely possible and keep your eyes and ears open for any possible encounter which may lead to an invitation to an ‘open bar.’

‘Flash’ is a hard to swallow yet compatible home brewed liquid substance which passes for spirits. The subsequent headache always tells you not to repeat last night’s performance, but after a week of swallowing dust you are ready for another ’flash’ attack. Expatriates smuggle in yeast to brew in their bathrooms. It helps pass the time.

I smuggled in Yeats. “Cast a cold eye on life, on death, horseman pass by.” I paid female cleaning crews from Sri Lanka to keep their mouths shut or face deportation. It’s a tough row to hoe.

On a more mundane level, Kuwait is historically and geographically caught in a tough situation. To keep Iraq at bay Kuwait sells Iraq’s oil and provides access for imports. Saudi Arabia, on the other hand, perceives Kuwait as a natural extension of its own boundary, which leads to placation. Saudi Arabia is geographically bigger, has more oil, and considers itself the dominant Islamic force in the Gulf.

Area governments agree to disagree.

Oil tankers and container ships ply the gulf on a flat horizon working north and south. An occasional military vessel lies quietly offshore. Water skiers sail past wind surfers looking for moving air. Fishing boats complement orange buoys and ragged bamboo traps for hammour, a regular food source.

Of 2.1 million people in Kuwait, only 1.1 million are nationals. Foreigners include Palestinian, Jordanian, Syrians, Lebanese, Iranians, Europeans and thousands from third world countries. Relatively speaking they can make much more digging ditches, cleaning homes and doing menial labor here than in their own country. They support an extended family in Sri Lanka or Dhaka on their wages.

Local business is slow during the summer. Hotels are at 20-30% occupancy, full of Italian marble, black and white mosaic floor tiles. Tall Greek marble columns extend to a ceiling three flights above symmetrical massive chandeliers mixed with the sound of water - a sign of wealth and good fortune - from cascading falls. Luscious imported plants hang from balconies.

I was hired in 1985 to establish the most sophisticated fitness center in the Gulf at the Regency Palace Hotel. A $2.5 million dollar project. To get the job required three solid years of persistent, patient letter writing and submitting resumes to various general managers after making a contact in Eugene, Oregon. Who you know, not what you know.

I was teaching tennis at a five star Canadian resort named Manitou or Great Spirit, when the offer came through in August.

“Mr. Leonard, this is Jacque Hamburger, the General Manager of the Kuwait Hyatt Regency and your name is on the top of the list for our new Recreation Manager. Are you still interested in the position?”

“Yes. When do I start?”

“Next month. We will fax you the details and contract. Thank you very much.”

“Thank you for calling.”

The other professionals were afraid.

“You’re crazy to take the job,” one said. “There’s a war going on.”

“After Vietnam everything is easy. This is the opportunity I’ve been working on. I’m not feeding tennis balls to beginners forever. Time for new adventures."

I landed in Kuwait, left the airport and walked into a blast furnace.