Somewhere in the small nation of Kuwait, a family of three lived happily, oblivious to the many sorrows of the world. Little did they know that their peaceful existence was to be shattered into tiny bits, because of the actions of a man named Saddam Hussain.

My adventure started on August 30th, 1990; a day when it seemed all was well with the world.

The boom of guns woke me from my sleep. I started wailing to see who had dared to wake me from my restful sleep. As my mother came to comfort me, the front door swung open. My father came in and started to speak to my mother. “Aruna!” he cried. “Saddam’s invaded Kuwait! We have to leave this country now!” My mother gasped and put her hand to her mouth in shock.

Where will we go?” she asked in a panic.
“To Jordan Airport. I heard that Air India is giving free lifts back to the home country.” My mother nodded and started to pack her clothes. “We don’t have time!” said my father.
“You mean we’re going to leave everything?” asked my mom incredulously.
“We’ll have to. It’s the only way we’ll have enough time to leave before Saddam’s troops get here and blow this place apart!”
In a sudden movement I was swept up into my mother’s arms. We fled out the door, leaving everything behind. Even Tautz, my favorite stuffed toy! I reached out for him, but my mother moved too fast. The last I saw of the house before we went away forever was Tautz, staring dejectedly at me with his big brown eyes. He seemed to bid me farewell from his spot on the floor.

As we neared the border of another state line, I glanced up sleepily and yawned. My parents looked back and smiled. In a sudden jerk, the car stopped. I felt very angry. Just when things were starting to go smoothly! Then I looked out the window and saw that some people were clearing the road of debris. My dad talked to them and from what little I caught of the conversation, I guessed that the road wouldn’t be cleared for another few hours. We got out of the car, because it was hot inside and we couldn’t waste fuel on the air conditioner. Some kind people, from the group who were clearing the road, came and gave us blankets and bed sheets. We lay down on the road. On the road! It wasn’t the most comfortable place in the world but it was a refreshing change from the feathery soft cradle I usually slept in. I heard my father flop down and go to sleep, before even closing his eyes. He was probably dead tired from driving. I looked at my mother who was also asleep and closed my eyes for a night of hopefully peaceful sleep.

The next morning, I woke up to find myself in the car. It was so frustrating! Nobody ever woke me up when it was time to go! I lay back and watched the land flash by. My mom looked back and saw my eyes open. I quickly closed them, so that she would think I was asleep. She laughed at that and I felt glad. It wasn’t good for her to be so disappointed. My father and I were the only relief she had in this suddenly hostile world. She turned back to the road and talked to my father for the hundredth time. I yawned just from how boring this was. There wasn’t even any real action!

Suddenly, my parents’ energy level went up. They were pointing at something and I looked too. The car came to another screeching halt and I was thrown forward. Luckily I knew how to hold on. We had arrived at a local bus stand, which was ferrying people to the border of Jordan.

We got out of the car and I was carried as usual. After running up to the bus, my father took one longing look back at his Caprice Classic. I sympathized with him. His car was to him, like Tautz was to me. It had served him long and well. He knew he had to make a sacrifice though, and climbed onto the bus. He peeled off a bill from our meager amount of hard cash and gave it to the bus driver. The man grabbed it and stuffed it into his filthy pant pocket. We sat in a seat that had badly torn, blue fabric on it and stared out the window the whole time. As we neared the border, the land’s fertility grew worse and the vegetation grew sparse. The drive stopped and the driver told us to get out. We obeyed his command along with many others, but I was surprised at the sight that greeted us. We were in the middle of a desert. I knew what this place was. It was No-Man’s Land. It was a land that had no political ties and didn’t bear the mark of civilization. We started to trudge and my mother gave me a milk bottle. I refused, because I knew we would need it for the journey ahead.

We were parched, hungry, and shriveled. The group had fallen apart along the way. Some had followed mirages while others had been driven crazy by the monotonous rays of light. They just broke down and sobbed. We had to comfort many. In the distance, we saw a structure. My parent’s eyes lit up, but the eternal skeptic (that’s me) wondered if it was a mirage. We started to run towards it. As we neared, I could tell it wasn’t a mirage. We had finally reached the border of the nation of Jordan!

Some hugged us, but no food or water greeted us. My dad got his firm look and went off in search of water and food. That was determination. An hour later, he came back, carrying those necessary supplies. I ate as ravenously as the rest of my family. We were a sight to see! When we were done, we got on another bus to the airport. This one smelled of rotten vegetables and we all felt like vomiting. I hated the ride, but was consoled by the fact that it was the last one.

The airport was jam-packed. As the crowd saw us, we were directed through a chorus of pushes to a line of people waiting to get food from volunteering chefs. We ate like animals again and rested, our bellies filled. When we asked for a ticket to India, we got special privileges because of my presence. Any one with a baby was given exceptional treatment and we went to the head of the line. As our group got inside the plane and the plane took off, I fell asleep. When we finished the trip and landed in India, I knew it was over. We were safe!

Today, I am a fourteen-year old living in Massachusetts and part of a family of four. Even though I experienced the horror of the escape from Kuwait, my memory does not serve me well when I try to remember those days. I think my mind does not want to relive those terrible times at any cost.

Still, every grey cloud has a silver lining, as the old adage goes. This experience has strengthened me, like iron is given strength after being forged. I know that everything can be taken in away in a moment and it makes me more grateful for all my family and I have. In the end, the incident has made me a more content human being.

After all that traveling in order to escape Kuwait, the wanderlust in our blood never left my family. Post-Kuwait, we have lived in more than ten different areas around the globe.

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