By Alia Yunis
Issue no 22
In one of my favorite photos of my mom, she and her friends peek out of a train heading to Baghdad on a short holiday escape from Kuwait, circa 1958. I asked her once why they were going to Baghdad. The answer was simple.
By Marlon Menezes
Issue no 22
It was on the 2nd of August that I woke up to the familiar wail of Arabic on my radio, but I immediately realized that I was listening to the wrong language in the wrong country. I was in Canada and the Arabic I heard was a plea for help from Radio Kuwait that was re-broadcast by the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation (CBC) as a lead-in to their headline story that morning.
By Noor Alhuda Aljawad
Issue no 22
I was born in Southern California in late August 1991, a year and a few weeks after Saddam Hussein’s invasion of Kuwait. I say Saddam’s invasion, and not Iraq’s, because every Iraqi person I have ever known, be they family members or friends, opposed what my great aunt Raja’ described as اعتداء, an act of aggression.
By Shahd Alshammari
Issue no 22
Teta came to Kuwait long before she knew that home could be a place you called home. Long before she ever heard the saying “Home is where the heart is,” and long before she hung a plaque with these words on it in English – a language not her own – on her kitchen’s wall.
By Yvonne Vaz Ezdani
Issue no 17
The sun has just waved a glorious goodbye, leaving lingering light for my path. I latch the gate behind me as I step out on my evening walk. Clusters of crimson bougainvillea slipping over our white-washed garden wall make me stop to let the beauty soak in. More warmth, as passersby smile and friendly neighbours wave from balcãoes as I walk on.
By Rachana Patni
Issue no 15
Joshua and his father sat with a book on dinosaurs. On the first page there was a timeline which indicated that first there were water-creatures, then came dinosaurs, and then finally, came human beings. Joshua looked at this timeline, heard the description of it, and immediately asked his father, ‘Papa, what will come after human beings?’
By Tony de Sa
Issue no 15
The Goa of the sixties and seventies was a stark contrast to the Goa of today. Goa had just been freed from the Portuguese yoke, and frankly speaking, the things we take for granted in Goa today, electricity, piped water, tarred roads, telephones, internet connectivity, were simply not there.
By Cordelia B Francis
Issue no 15
As I look back at my childhood, squinting across an ocean of time, faint memories begin to flicker to life. Like mirages they swim in to focus, the details fuzzy, the stories skewered, the timelines overlapping. Fact, fiction and hearsay coalescing into childhood impressions.
By Braz Menezes
Issue no. 15
I cannot sleep. My thoughts wander back to Nairobi and the Portuguese Consulate. Except for me, the whole family is travelling on my father’s Portuguese passport; my passport requires an additional document authorizing me, as a minor, to an indefinite stay until my studies end.
By Sheela Jaywant
Issue no. 15
The men of the Gaitonde family were rarely seen in the ancestral house. The Portuguese had left; the cry aamchey Goyen aamkaa jaay (our Goa must be ours) still echoed around; it wasn’t yet certain whether the Union Territory would be merged with Maharashtra. The villagers kept their distance from my politically active family; my eldest uncle, Dr. Pundalik, had, in the 1940s, done an unthinkable thing. He married a Portuguese girl, Edila, who lived with the family for some years.
By Edith M. Furtado
Issue no. 14
My father’s house was in Salvador do Mundo, Bardez, not grand by the standards of colonial Goa, yet, surrounded by fruit-bearing trees and flowering plants. The trip across the Mandovi in a noisy ferry, past the picturesque Penha da França Church was already a preview of the much-awaited freedom the children enjoyed at our paternal grandmother’s.
By Ahmed Bunglowala
Issue no. 8
For a small town guy, St. Xavier’s was a testing place for the first six months. The young men and women—strutting their designer clothes and attitude in the gargoyle-festooned quadrangle — made me very self-conscious of the two pairs of shirt and trouser my mother had put together from her meagre earnings as a part-time seamstress.