Embrace the adventure

Hello!!

I promised my mom I'd write a post (better late then never, right mom!?)

I wanted to share the story of the strangeness of living here in Kuwait and what I've had to go through to get my civil ID. (which is still a long,long way off). So lets begin, shall we....

At the beginning of this week I was summonded by our executive secretary to visit our "Gov Relations" team who were arranging the blood test/finger printing. (Yes, I was surprised that I needed to go thru a blood test here after needing to do it at home). Any how, I arrive promptly at the department desk only to whisked away by one of the paid "Wasta/Mandoob" employees. He spoke very little english but was nice enough to turn on American gangsta music- because aparently all of us westerners like to "bust a cap" back home.

So he drives me over to the "middle of no where" and pulls up infront of this little canteen accross from this tall official looking building. I get out and go to cross the street and he's yelling at me in Arabic ("Stop you silly western girl") that in fact the clinic is behind the canteen. I kid you not, we enter this 1970's cinderblock building that has this long counter with plexi barriers- he goes up to the vending machine and buys a "number" then we proceed to the front of the counters. This "stamp" was given to the reception desk, that was then passed to the men behind the counter. Now to paint the picture- I am the only woman in the building, there are 5 men behind the counter sitting and chatting, the only other customers are this group of men/workers who look at me like Tarzan looked at Jane. After several official stamps on my passport and my "mandoob/wasta" chatting them up, we are done! (oh no, not so fast)

So "mandoob/wasta" (see glossary below) leads me out another door into a courtyard and towards this shabby, run down building. Have you ever had that sinking in the pit of your stomach? I sure did in that moment. This hospital would have looked bleak in the Congo- it had stray cats running through it, thats how bad it was.

We enter the "hospital" for my blood work. The room had 3 staff (1 official to review the documents and 2 nurses to take blood). I honestly thought they were going to strap me down and conduct science experiments- the nurse spoke enough english to say "make a fist""relax hand" "sorry!"

 The last one was when she jabbed me with a needle the size of a ball point pen to draw blood. While trying not to watch the needle thing I couldnt help but notice the shoe prints half way up the wall- either some one tried to make an escape or they were in so much pain their feet shot straight out.

So back into the car and down the road to the Xray hospital. Yup I got a free Xray too!!! (note sarcasm).  Once that was done I gathered up my guy and he drove me back to the office with the tunes of "50 cent" blaring from the stereo. It just doesn't get any stranger than this.

Stay tuned for this week's adventure: fingerprints!


**Glossary: Mandoob- errand boy/gopher. Wasta- Arab person with influence/connections to make things happen.**