When you get to my age the future has some very limited options one of them being an extremely persuasive factor in looking back rather than forward. As yet I haven´t actually got to the stage where I might have second thoughts about booking next month´s theatre tickets but it might be fun to begin relating the occasional ”aha” moments of my life. I believe I have at some time already mentioned my second ”real” job was working for an American publishing company and in fact the very reason I first moved to Sweden. Please do not think that working as a Horsham council lorry driver or as a dustman, as the term was in those days, are considered by me as not being ”real” jobs. For me at the time they were just temporary jobs supplementing my income as a student. Anyhow to get on with my story the company was short of a Middle East representative and added it onto my list of areas to visit. I have always been interested in politics and world affairs so my reason for confirming that I was quite happy with this appointment had little to do with any ignorance of what was and still is going on in that area. Leila Khaled had made a name for herself parking airline jets in the desert and the PLO was on everybody´s lips. This was my opportunity to see the world or at least more of it than before. With Stockholm as my base for Scandinavia, the countries on my new list now included Greece, Turkey, Israel, The Lebanon, Jordan, Egypt, Saudi Arabia, Kuwait, Iraq, Syria and Iran. I actually managed to visit all of them at least once, barring Saudi Arabia which being last on my list of priorities remained unvisited due to me changing jobs. I have a story for nearly all the countries on this list and common to them all are memories of meeting kind and hospitable people. Perhaps one of the most revealing experiences of my life is that whatever country I find myself in, believe me to date that is quite a number, with the exception of language and local peculiarities people´s daily lives remind me very much of my own.
In the foyer of the Kuwait Hilton a gentleman in a well cut suit approached me with the words, ”hello again, maybe you do not recognize me?” He presented himself and I realized that he and I had attended the same meeting at the university that very morning only at the time he had been wearing traditional Arab dress. It took me a while to understand that my mind had played me that not uncommon trick of diverting attention from what really matters. We exchanged a few words about our earlier meeting and decided to continue the conversation over dinner later that evening. His parting words were ”if you brought some whisky with you, bring the bottle along so we can have a pre- dinner drink. In fact I had been in doubt as to whether or not to take some duty free with me full well knowing the attitude to alcohol in Kuwait. The advice I was given before leaving was that bottles of spirits need not be declared unless directly asked for by a customs official in which case they could but would not necessarily be confiscated. Nobody asked. A little subconsciously I took the bottle to the dining room and instructed by my friend, placed it under the table. This was quite amusing as it slotted in perfectly with the Swedish mode d´emploi of the day where hard liquor was not put on the table. My friend on ordering two empty glasses explained to me that the Hilton hotel was the only place in Kuwait this could be done. Well I never!
After a very pleasant dinner my friend offered to show me around Kuwait City which I gratefully accepted and we arranged to meet the next day.
On getting into his car he handed me a small package containing a white headscarf, a small white embroidered skull cap and a black cord. ”Now you will look like a true Kuwaiti,” he said with a laugh. Anyone who has seen Lawrence of Arabia will understand my feelings although I did refrain from breaking out in ”the man who broke the bank at Monte Carlo” and had a little difficulty not feeling somewhat awkward as we had tea in the Sheraton later in the morning. As we were drinking our tea there was a newsflash on the radio and apparently a group of terrorists as yet of unknown nationality but suspected as being Palestinians had occupied offices belonging to the Kuwaiti foreign office. ”That is very close to my own office,” my friend exclaimed and suggested we drive over to see what was happening. Getting out of the car there was a strong wind blowing and again I had this Lawrence of Arabia moment as I wound my Keffiyeh around my face and tucked it in to prevent it blowing away. The large square in front of the office buildings was cordoned off and as we walked up to the barrier, a policeman or soldier unslung his rifle when he saw me. A few words from my friend and the rifle was returned to his shoulder. ”What was all that about”, I asked. My friend´s explanation was that the soldier could not see my face and was suspicous of me because of my blue eyes. I was a little confused at this and said, ”Palestinians and blue eyes?” ”Yes,” he replied, ”many Palestinians have blue eyes, the Crusaders you know.”