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.