Bint Al-Roudhan……..


This blog is for my sister whose father left her behind many years ago. My mother met her father in Pensacola, Florida back in the late 70′s. The small town was flooded by GCC pilots studying with the U.S. military. The new brownies with lots of money had a lot of the girls talking. The black hair and dark skin is what caught my mother’s eye when she met A. Al-Roudhan, a Kuwaiti pilot. I was a young child when they got together and was raised by him for several years. In 1981 my mother gave birth to my sister N, she was named after his grandmother. My sister was visited by her father, his brother and some of their friends. We moved and finally settled down in California but when it was time for his family to come and visit my mother, sister and I would have to vacate and stay in an apartment somewhere else. With little money my mother had to scrape together change and we would walk a mile to the gas station so she could call him and buy me my Archie comic book. We had no tv and really nothing in the apartment which was really lonely. I look back now and know how strong my mom was to take care of us pretty much alone. When my sister was 2 he left to Kuwait and never came back leaving my mom alone with 2 children. She took a job at a pet store and left us with babysitters one of which pysically abused my sister. My mom eventually re-married a Palestinian man and he raised us for almost 20 years until they divorced. She now lives in Kuwait with her Kuwaiti husband. Upon graduating high school my sister and my mom came to Kuwait so she could find her father. All was good in the beginning in which he gave my sister some money and gold so she would go back to California but when my sister moved to Kuwait her father wasn’t so nice. My sister married a Kuwaiti and received her nationality through the marriage but she isn’t considered a first class Kuwaiti even though her father’s family is one of the biggest in Kuwait. When I came to Kuwait we went to the gold shop he owned in Mubarakiya and there I saw him, this tired old looking man whom I feared as a child. He told me I was his first child and blah blah. He has since disappeared out of sight as his father died leaving him as head of the family and he has a certain image to maintain. We know where he lives and what house he lives in which happens to be the house beside where my mom works, talk about irony. My sister even went to his house once and met her younger brothers. We also found out when his wife had a daughter she wanted to name her the same as my sister’s name but he told her no. Guilt perhaps? It’s time for the lost children to come out into the light.

Not many pictures of her dad are left after my mom burned them but she regrets doing that now.


6 comments on “Bint Al-Roudhan……..

  1. necklaces Uk says:

    Remarkable! Its really amazing paragraph, I have got much clear idea
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  2. mikolaj says:

    I live in Poland, looking for his father Abdul Rahman al Boloushi age of about 55 years, in 1982 he left the documents to Kuwait and voice zaginoł after him, I have to address before 30 years, no one hce help me find my father I wanted to meet him and talk to it if somebody can pomódz is asked to contact on my email @, mikolaj.orlinski @

  3. LWDLIK says:

    You are a brave girl I commend you for trying to help others in search of their lost fathers. I have heard of a few children looking for their fathers in Kuwait and will be passing on your blog to anyone who needs it.

  4. Cee Burke says:

    I find the term “brownies” derogatory and offensive. Use of the word diminishes the credibility of the writer, and using it to describe the mother’s attraction to the absentee father is equally deleterious because it leads the reader to assume that mom achieved her goal–a relationship with a man she found attractive. I’m not saying I believe this is the case, just pointing out that word choice, tone, and writing style are perhaps more important than the storyline. In this instance, I feel the term “brownies” and reference to the pilot’s “black hair and dark skin” in combination with “how “the girls were talking” objectifies the rich, young pilots and calls the mother’s judgement and motives into question. In a culture where women are viewed as seductresses and held responsible for men’s “urges” and actions upon those urges, this terminology could easily be interpreted another way– that the father is the true victim here. Again, I’m not saying that I believe this is true, just pointing out that the writer left open the door for such an interpretation.

    • helpgcckids says:

      Feel free to think what you want it’s your right. If you were from a little redneck town where everyone is white and country and one day there were young educated fighter pilots who showed up in the city then yes at that time everyone was talking about them. I doubt the writing would take anyone on a different path than the truth of how it happened. You seem to be under the impression the men were “seducted” or something which couldn’t be further from the truth, especially during the 70’s. It takes two to tango and obviously you don’t have any experience with gulf men or you would know how they show off their money with fast cars and partying ways which continue today.

  5. Cee says:

    Please read my post again. I didn’t say your fighter pilot step-father was “seducted.” I merely commented that the author left the door open for that interpretation. You know, not all potential readers will be sympathetic to your sister’s situation because they will make a (false) assumption about your mother based on those remarks. Regardless of the time or place, references to exotic looks, fast cars, and money may diminish your sister’s cause.

    Yeah, it takes two to tango, and years ago (also the 70’s) when I was a young girl in a town far smaller and probably more redneck than Pensacola, FL, I tangoed with the Kuwaiti student I married. We tangoed so much that we had several children together.

    Anyhow, I fought a long, hard battle for my kids, too, and somehow I managed to walk out of Kuwait with all of my kids and a child support order, too, (a rare accomplishment in those days.) Because I was a western woman, I had to endure the scrutiny and accusations that go with the territory, and hostile family members in Kuwait pounced on every little thing they could to try to prove that I was a whore who caused their family to lose face. They saw me as a sort of venus fly-trap who just gobbled up their precious son–it was how they removed him from personal responsibility for me and the kids.

    To make a long story short, his life went on like he never met us. He married his cousin, has nine more children, retired from his government job and has several successful businesses. Our lives were changed forever. Most of his family still believes that it is “all our fault” that their name was sullied and their blood-line tainted. Invoking “Inshallah” only works when it is to their advantage.

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