On 23 August 1990 President Saddam appeared on state television with Western hostages to whom he had refused exit visas. In the video, he patted a small British boy named Stuart Lockwood on the back. Saddam then asks, through his interpreter, Sadoun al-Zubaydi, whether Stuart is getting his milk. Saddam went on to say, “We hope your presence as guests here will not be for too long. Your presence here, and in other places, is meant to prevent the scourge of war.”

— Wikipedia entry on The Gulf War

I used to wonder what my father would have said and done had Saddam Hussein walked into his makeshift prison cell and spoken with him. Would he have been diplomatic in order to keep himself alive or gone down kicking and screaming? I still often think about what our lives would be like had Dad not escaped twenty-some days after being taken hostage in Kuwait’s international airport in the early morning hours of August 2nd, 1990. Or had he been fatally shot the time he was mugged after his escape, during his turn patrolling our home’s compound. Or had he never made it out of Jordan or Iraq on his way to India, to my mother and me.

Somebody has to tell my father’s story. Many have tried  – the countless interviews and his countless retellings – and failed. You really don’t get it all unless you were there. And it’s not your story or that of Dave Eggers. It’s not my story, for that matter, even if I figure into it. My teenage brain was a sponge; I remember everything from the month or so Dad was gone, and every last thing he narrated once he returned to us. But it’s not for this blog, not today. Just know that if there was anyone all of this should not have happened to, it is my father. No one should be taken hostage and made to undergo the humiliation, uncertainty and terror of capture at gunpoint, escape, robbery at gunpoint, leaving your home behind, and a greater journey to physical freedom, but not this sweet man. He who can make gardens grow from deserts, music out of thin air, and light of any situation. Then again, maybe he was the right person for the circumstances, for times out of our control. My mother and I would have died or, more accurately, gotten ourselves killed. Dad escaped. It’s Mom and I who hold a grudge to this day. Dad left it behind. And still would, if we’d only let him.

We cannot let him forget. When he forgets, who are we to remember? And when we forget, we forgive, trust, drop our guard, and make the same mistakes over again. The memories are the scab that protect and remind.

***

Today, twenty years ago, made sure I would never see Kuwait again. First, they took my father and luck showed him out. Then they took all of our belongings, as my mother reported from her April 1991 visit back. The neighbors who sold all of our appliances and electronics thinking my father would never return, looters who made off with other belongings from as heavy as a piano to as light as a teddybear, a government that made sure any last remaining shred of dignity would not be maintained. What could the thieves possibly want with all of mom’s saris? What did they do with photo reels from our family vacations? How long did it take them to rip up the wall-to-wall carpeting? How dumb was spraypainting Long Live Saddam Hussein in Arabic on a bedroom door in the recesses of a foreign worker’s dwelling? Wouldn’t it make more sense to make that statement on an outer wall, you numbwits? Why did those of you who were supposed to help shirk your responsibility, and you who didn’t have to give a damn come to our aid?

They took everything, including my desire to return. One would think the events of 1990-91 taught the Kuwaiti people a thing or two. But just as 9/11, Katrina and The Flood and now the Oil Spill have imparted to Americans nothing about humility, real values, and our place and worth in this world, a violent invasion and bloody war were not enough to dampen the sheer hubris of a bunch of oil-rich illiterates posing as leaders. They abdicated their duty to their nation in its greatest hour of need and haven’t changed a bit since. If all that wealth cannot save your citizens beyond no income tax and free healthcare, honor foreigners who gave the best years of their lives to your country, and make you more human, screw you.

It’s bad enough that, each time we return from a trip abroad, my brother and I have to explain to American immigration why our passports say we were born in Kuwait City, as if that makes us some goddamned terrorists. What would they do if I were to simply respond, “My parents lived and worked there at the time and had my mom known how much trouble this was going to be, she’d have popped me out elsewhere but them’s the breaks, so can I go now?” That’s enough Kuwait for one lifetime, thanks.

***

The memories are the scab that protect and remind.

My 1980s were spent begging my parents to leave Kuwait for America. We have our green cards, let’s just go. No, American schools are of low quality, you need to finish out your education here and us our careers. Be loyal, see it through to the end, start and finish in nice round numbers. Humans are funny, aren’t we? We think we control life and deem it fair by labeling portions of it with terms such as “beginning,” “end,” “dedication,” and “reward.” I was no fool – I thought of 1990 and everything we lost when packing all of D’s and my papers, photographs and heirlooms into the car on August 28th, 2005. Humans are really hilarious, aren’t we? We think we have all our physical and emotional bases covered. Instead I fell in love with a city that flooded when it was slated to be hit by a hurricane, that I returned to, and then left when other responsibilities called. Life happens, things change, the past has passed, and the future is uncertain, so what remains to protect and be reminded of?

That: Our money and things ought to help us but not define us, not the other way around. We cannot choose our family, but we can choose our friends. There are some people, places and things worth saving, and others to avoid at all costs. Reality means we cannot keep or keep from all of the time. Love and hate are normal, but we can’t let these emotions consume us, or who will be left to dish out love and hate? Time is our greatest ally and our worst enemy – it takes us away but it takes us away. All of us, every single day, understandably and undeniably wage a monstrous battle in that space between who and where we want to be and who and where we indeed are, and that we switch sides so often in this battle to alternately live and stay alive. This, in the end, is the paradox of being human.

That this is being human, and these lessons are not lived easily even if we know them to be true.

My mother and I fight the world constantly, while my father accepts it as best he can. This has been our Gulf War for the last twenty years.

Ack Comics gives us America in the form of Hindu comics my brother and I grew up reading. Gotta love it when my worlds collide like this. King Maharaja LeBron James could have been a contender.

(Click on the image for the rest.)

Be sure to check out the Oil-Eating Obama-Mermen and the Ack Blog. A total riot!

Stop. Time for a thought check.

Ever since the 2007 presidential campaign, I’ve noticed that “Muslim” has become an increasingly bad word all over this country. Somewhere along the way, the object of ire changed from “Islamic fundamentalists” and “Arab terrorists” to straight out “Muslims.” This switcheroo has not occurred just in the vernacular of the usual unthinking dumbasses you would expect to say such things, but also in the online and real-life conversations of otherwise rational people. Even some scientists and atheists these days seem to take Muslims as well as fundamentalist Muslims to task quicker than fundamentalists of other religions, when all fundamentalism is essentially the same.

This has two very dangerous repercussions:

1) American Muslims, just like there are American Christians, American Hindus, American Buddhists, etc. Anyone ever think about this large chunk of the voting populace? A lot of them are educated, moneyed, business owners and law-abiding, productive people. Above all, they are Americans. Just like you and me, no more, no less. What does denigrating their religious identity accomplish other than alienation and putting them in harm’s way?

Furthermore, we have partnered with Saudi Arabia, Kuwait, other Arab countries, Afghanistan and Pakistan in this War On Terror. Walking arm in arm with Prince Abdullah and enlisting the support of Nouri al-Maliki and Hamid Karzai while “taking democracy to the poor Muslims of Iraq and Afghanistan” and then turning around to vilify Muslims wholesale is a special kind of cognitive dissonance. Forget American exceptionalism and stewardship, upholding religious freedom and all those nice things our kids are blown up for, and ask this: How does it help our allies and our enemies take us seriously?

2) The more crucial, insidious reason to consciously avoid this kind of speech: Verbalizing “Muslims” as the enemy immediately places our domestic and foreign policy discussions in a religious context. Once there is a worse religion, there is automatically a better religion. Equate America and this better religion and you are well on the way to establishment, hastened only by the lazy, latent acceptance of those not particularly religious in any direction. I cannot stress and warn against this enough.

If Muslim fundamentalists hate us for our freedom, let’s give them real freedom of thought and practice to hate, and not some medieval god-loaded hypocrisy that rolls as Americanism these days. Think.

P.S. I closed comments on this post and this post alone on purpose. It keeps some, especially those who have never before commented here, from jerking their knees. You know where to find me if you really want to talk about it.

Oil-related catastrophes simply refuse to leave me alone. I mean, WHAT.

840,000 gallons of oil from a corroded Enbridge Energy pipeline have leaked into Michigan’s Kalamazoo River near Battle Creek this past week. More specifically, “The oil is moving from Talmadge Creek into the Kalamazoo River, which flows from near the city of Battle Creek into Lake Michigan.” Swell.

Edward Vielmetti, friend of New Orleans and lead blogger at AnnArbor.com has been doing yeoman’s work staying on top of the story and associated political foibles as it unfolds. Follow Ed on Twitter for up to the minute information. For more, I suggest you follow Canadian news on this story because a) Enbridge Energy is a Canadian company and b) there’s a certain sheen, shall we say, to the quality of FoxMSNBCNN reporting: CBC News says 3.7 million litres while CNN says 19,500 barrels. Been there, done that, right?

Some other things that ought to sound terribly familiar to Gulf Coast residents. Here’s #2: Michigan oil spill: U.S. warned Canadian company about pipeline monitoring

3) Expect the same old disheartening song and dance from the Yankee right. The Michigan Messenger reports:

State Sen. Glenn Anderson (D-Westland) has introduced legislation in the State Senate to lift a cap on costs oil companies have to pay for clean ups associated with their pipelines.

Anderson told Jack Ebling on WILS 1320 AM radio Wednesday that right now, state law caps the damages a company is liable for at $15 million.

But the Senate, which is dominated by Republicans, adjourned for a mid-summer break without acting on Anderson“s legislation.

They chose to do nothing with it, Anderson said. They passed a resolution that called on officials from the federal government to the locals to do all they can. That’s nothing but talk.

3a) Chicago’s Mayor Daley: Michigan oil spill worse than Asian carp so “Michigan better do something about the investigation, the criminal and civil investigation. Who’s paying for it, and who had the oil spill in the Kalamazoo River, because it’s flowing into Lake Michigan.” Blarghblarblar.

And 4) @Enbridge_PR “Lake Michigan is not as big as the Gulf of Mexico, but we’re gonna try to beat those filthy Brits at their own game! @bpglobalpr” Right down to the fake Twitter account.

Wake me up when it’s all over, ferchrissakes.