Free Kuwait... Oh, Wait, You Meant FREE Kuwait

In a land that is free, I girl should be able to go down to the beach at 6:30am on a Friday (which is like Sunday in the states: aka church day) without recourse.

But, Free Kuwait is not such a free land.

There is a small group of kung fu'ers that meet at the beach on Friday mornings to practice and train. Doug and I went one morning two weeks ago and came home bruised and sandy. Good times had by all. There was another girl there too, so I figured that it would be safe for me to go back on my own when Doug is at work on Fridays. So, that's what I did today. I went down to the beach at 6:30am.

The beach at this hour is on a Friday is very busy. It seems that everyone who gets up for dawn-prayers takes their family out for a picnic afterward. And then there's the roving bands of dudes that just seem to show up in every public gathering spot. Knowing this, I never where "beach clothing," instead I where a huge t-shirt, long board-shorts, a baseball hat and sunglasses. Remember that it is a constant 120 degrees Fahrenheit in Kuwait at this time... it's bloody sweating hot!

Arriving at the parking lot, I am scoped out by an early twenties local in a Jeep with animango hair (see my post on The Mango for a better description). This is not alarming. Being stared at is status-normal in my life. I get to the spot where the kung fu takes place and no one is there. So, I wait. Animango-boy, who has followed me from the parking lot, waits with me. After a few minutes I am satisfied that the martial arts group is not coming, so I head back to the car. I didn't notice anyone behind me this time, probably 'cuz I was focused on avoiding the 3 mountain bikers posted up at the truck parked next to my car. I got into my car and locked the doors; standard procedure (other girls have warned me about dudes trying to get into their cars while they are stopped at traffic lights).

It's a short drive from the beach to home, and I noticed a Jeep behind me most of the way. Now, I'm freaked out. It this the same Jeep from the beach? The animango hair profile is hard to miss. I have to decide; do I go straight home where it's safe, or do I drive around and try to loose him - not showing him where I live? Having just moved to a new neighborhood where lots of the streets are blocked at random times due to construction, I opted for the first. Go straight home.

At our new residence, I have assigned parking for my bright red Peugeot outside the building; not in a secure underground garage like our last place. I parked with a vengeance nearly taking off the passenger side-mirror. Animango takes an unlucky turn onto a deadend street and has to turn around. By the time he got back to my car I was just getting out, hoping, dear God, let the front door of the building be unlocked. Animango drove past me and around the corner in front of the building entrance, but again, had to turn around a large SUV in a small street. This gave me just enough time to duck behind a palm tree with low-hanging branches and pop out at the front door. I took the stairs in two leaps and blew through the door like 132lb line-backer. Luckily, it was unlocked.

I slamed the door, locking it behind me. Our night "security officer," a 50-something 5'6" Indian man who weighs less than me, bobbled his head and mouthed a barely audible "Morning Madam." Good morning indeed, security guy. Thanks for the backup.

In Free Kuwait, you are free to do what you want. Women can drive their own cars, go to the beach in a bikini if they want, go to the grocery store un-chaperoned, and even vote (as of 2006). None of these things are illegal. If they were, how else would the men of this country entertain themselves without the show that women are putting on for their sole benefit. Why else would a girl go to the beach at 6:30am other than to whore herself out to the first taker? I mean, what is a man in Kuwait supposed to think. All women unaccompanied are prostitutes, right... Isn't what being "free" is all about?

Hello Mamser!

Upon entry to any "serviced" establishment in Kuwait, I am greeted by no less than 2, but no greater than 5 Fillipino employees chiding in chorus, "Hello Mamser!" or "Good evening Mamser!" or any of the other common salutations followed by Mamser (pronounced like mom-sir or on a rare occasion, mom-sher). Apparently, there has been an addition to the English language. Mamser, the bastardized interbreeding of the titles Ma'am and Sir has been shortened into one world for the sake of ESL convenience.

Any group of all male patrons will be referred to with "Good evening Ser" (singular) with a focus on the "rrrr." Add one female and the entire group becomes Mamser. For instance if I am in the back of the group and we walk into a restaurant, I will hear the round of "Hello Serrrr" and then, when they see me, "Oh! Hello Mamser! I'm sorry Mamser!" As if a smart slap across the face is in order for any service person who forgets my Mamser.

What's most incredible is that the tone and pronunciation is exactly the same across the city. No matter where you go, all restaurants that expect to serve Westerners employ Fillipino workers and everyone you meet knows the Mamser.

I've heard theories of gene migration; when after a great enough number of a particular species learns a new trait the entire species group then knows the trait without having to learn it. Like the little monkey who lived on an island and learned to wash his yams in the sea before eating them. He taught the other monkeys on his island to do the same and when 100 monkeys all knew to wash their yams in the sea, the monkeys on another island who had never witnessed yam washing started the practice as well. I'm not comparing Filipinos to monkeys; that would be racist. I'm just saying, gene migration man; it's the only possible explanation for the recurrence of Mamser.