August 2nd, 1990 was not like any other day in Kuwait.
It was a day Iraq invaded Kuwait. Iraq's leader, Saddam Hussein ordered the invasion and occupation of Kuwait with the apparent aim of acquiring Kuwait’s large oil reserves.
The most horrible part was to experience the invasion.
I was a happy little girl living in Kuwait with my parents and brother. Not in our wildest dreams did we envisage that we would have to face a traumatic Invasion.
2nd August 1990
We were woken up by an explosion at around 5 o’clock in the morning. Our flat was on the 4th floor, the building just opposite the palace of His Highness Sheikh Jaber Al Ahmed Al Sabah at Sharq. The explosion shook our building. We dashed to the windows to look if we could see anything outside. There were jet planes flying all around at low heights. We wondered for a moment what it was all about and discarded it to be another rehearsal by the Kuwaiti soldiers.
The next moment, our telephone rang. It was my aunt who lived in another area of Kuwait. I answered the phone and came to know what had happened. I informed my family that Iraqis had entered Kuwait.
“What’s so great about that!” My brother exclaimed, “They always come and go out of Kuwait.”
We laughed not realizing the intensity of the situation or what was to happen next.
None of us took the news seriously and hence dad left for work as usual. Later, we realized what my aunt said was true. The Iraqis were not just visiting Kuwait, they had captured Kuwait. There were shootings everywhere.
We looked further down the road towards the Sheikh’s palace. There were explosions there and part of the palace was in smoke. We came to know later that Sheikh Jaber’s life was saved as he had escaped the attack earlier that morning.
My mother, brother and I watched scenes of frightful shooting going on just outside our building. Our windows were quite large, so we could watch everything clearly. Hundreds of Kuwaiti soldiers were captured and made to sit with hands over their heads on the open ground in front of our building. A number of helicopters flew overhead like shoals of fish in the sea.
Iraqi army tanks were everywhere while a helicopter hovered just a few feet above our building. One of the soldiers in the helicopter saw us watching from the window and screamed from the skies. My mother immediately pulled us away from the window as another soldier pointed his rifle at us. Next moment, the window pane was a sound of splintered glass. It was a gunshot. We were shocked, and stunned by such a narrow escape. If my mother hadn't pulled us away, any one of us could have been shot. Later, we found the bullet had ripped through a booklet of Mother Mary lying below the altar.
The telephone rang again.
We were relieved to hear dad’s voice. He confirmed that Iraq had indeed invaded Kuwait but failed in their main mission of killing the Sheikh. Dad also said that he was trying to return home inspite of the Iraqi soldiers blocking the roads, and unnecessarily killing and beating up innocent people.
At about 10.00 am an armed battalion of Iraqi soldiers entered our building. Their guns had shining, sharp knives at the top of the barrels. Some of the soldiers were badly wounded. They ordered all the people in the building to assemble together on the ground floor. Everyone obeyed as the shooting continued across the street.
One Egyptian man in our building communicated with the Iraqis and served them snacks and cold drinks. People were told they could leave the building if they wished to. Just then, we saw a Kuwaiti being shot dead right next to the building. His body lied there covered with white cloth. It was a terrible sight...
Watching these horror incidents, almost everybody panicked and decided to stay back inside instead of risking their lives in the open. When the Iraqis were told this, they loaded the building elevator with explosives which would be detonated if the ‘Lift’ was used.
It was noon and our building was still under the custody of the Iraqis. My mother requested the officers to allow her to phone dad so she could inform him to avoid coming to the building or using the 'Lift'. Two soldiers pointed their guns at her head while she spoke over the phone.
Finally, the soldiers left the building at around 4 pm.
The whole night we neither ate nor slept. We were frightened, thinking we would be either captured or killed. We just kept praying, too scared even to talk loudly or look out through the windows.
Dad was stuck up at his work place for 3 continuous days. We spoke to him over the phone and kept assuring him that all was well at our end. He was back with us safely on the 4th day. We hugged, happy to see him with us again.
From that day onwards, not a day passed without the shooting. Every night was full of fears and the days full of unexpected happenings. There was a curfew imposed by the Iraqis in the locality; anyone seen on the streets after 7.30 pm would be shot dead.
We stayed this way for 2 months, thinking the Iraqis would leave and life would be peaceful again. We kept one traveller's bag with just our passports and a set of clothes ready to flee at the first opportunity.
Local newspapers and media had come to an absolute end. Iraqi channels were telecast on Kuwait TV. There was no communication with our granny or our dear ones back home in Goa. We came to understand though the Indian Embassy announcement that Indians were asked to leave as there were signs of further escalation to the situation and an approaching war.
We finally set out to leave Kuwait. We reached our homeland after 9 long days of staying in camps in our journey from Kuwait through Iraq to Jordan from where we boarded a flight to India.
There were heavy showers as our plane landed Bombay. My brother was ecstatic as he yelled with joy for everyone on board to hear, “Look! Our motherland is crying happy tears today because we are back to our country safe and alive.”
More about the writer: http://gaspersworld.tripod.com/S/P.htm
(The above article was first published in a college magazine - 1992)