posted in 27 Oct, 2005 by Ms. Babble
October 27, 2005 1342 hrs (0742 hrs Central-US)>
Camp Virginia, Kuwait
Time and space. You don’t realize the vastness of our world until you’re thrust half way around it. Something something as simple as a time zone change warps our perception.
Culture Communication. Knowledge. A person carries their own tiny sphere with them even when they’re forced into another. It’s quite impossible to describe the feelings of displacement or solitude here in Kuwait. The way every little thing is some how different. The wind. The smell. The taste. This is more than another country. It’s a different world.
I have been adjusting to Kuwait for 6 days. Our purpose here is to recover from being flung half way around the world from a temperate to a desert climate. We all know there’s a lot of sand. A LOT of sand. I don’t know how I can possibly emphasize how desolate and barren the desert really is unless you’ve seen it with your own eyes. Imagine no green. No animals. No clouds or water. There is nothing but a vastness of orange sand and blue sky. The view is amazing only because I’ve never seen so much of NOTHING.
I was giddy as a child the other day when off in the distance we spotted a herd of camels walking single file along the desert horizon. I don’t think my excitement was for the actual camels…rather, it was something to finally see in this wasteland. Proof that life really does exist out there.
The days are spent here trying to sleep all night and stay awake during the day. We fill our time by shopping in the little white trash trailer they call a PX. Amazingly, there’s also a pizza place, coffee shop, beauty parlor, souvenir shop, and Asian food joint. Little pieces of America dragged way out here to keep us sane. Oddly enough, they’re all run by Kuwaiti’s, so even though the products have an American flair about it, you still feel awkward and uncomfortable ordering. Either most don’t speak English or they choose not to.
Even though Kuwait is our ally and host nation, I am still wary. It may be the way none of the locals smile or acknowledge me… or perhaps it’s because I find it impossible to know what they may be thinking. How exactly do they feel about serving American’s food or sucking out the muck from an American’s port-o-potty. Are they grateful to have a good paying job? Or do they despise the fact that they have to clean our showers and wash our cloths?
I’m sure these are questions I will never have answered because the answers will vary with each individual person. All I know is that it gives me a small pang of embarrassment. I feel like an invader of land, culture, and lifestyle. Soon, I will be flying into Iraq. I don’t expect to be treated any differently nor do I foresee my feelings of invasion to subside.
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