15th October 1990

It took only about nine hours for the faint growls of unwelcomed engines to echo through every governorate. For them to swiftly flood the areas, to seep through the cities, and to slither through the streets and into the neighbourhoods.

From 2nd August, confusion was quickly replaced by dread and fear when each vehicle unleashed a pack of predators that hunted and threw their prey into their white empty vans. From that day, everything had gone awry. That's what Ahmed thought of those so-called-soldiers; vicious and soulless wolves.

Ahmed didn’t like that he and his family had to go through those countless new checkpoints on every street; only to be questioned why they hadn’t changed their licence plate to an Iraqi one. He didn’t like it when he was forced to use Iraqi currency instead of his Kuwaiti Dinars; and stand in long queues to buy groceries. Only to be given an amount that wasn’t enough for him and his family.
 
He hated it when the soldiers would knock on his door, or more like bang on his door, and interrogate him for playing Kuwaiti songs on the radio. Or when the soldiers gave that glare whenever Kuwait is mentioned and expressed in front of them. In fact, they seemed to get offended if they’re told that Kuwait will be free. Say that exact phrase again and there will be consequences, they threatened.

They weren’t exaggerating when one morning Ahmed heard shouting and yelling from his bedroom window. He stood and went to it and witnessed the commotion that occurred on the street ahead of him. A man in his white Dishdasha, that traditional long shirt gown, was striding towards the foreign threats. His hands clutched to fists, his brows narrowed, and his face wrinkled with rage; he did the very thing they were warned from committing.

“Kuwait will be free whether you like it or not!” the Kuwaiti man yelled at the soldiers.

Once the Kuwaiti man closed the distance between them, the soldiers didn’t hesitate to pull their guns and press them against his head, wearing the same fierce expression on their faces.

Their voices overlapped and grew louder until this turmoil ended with a gunshot that echoed throughout the neighbourhood. Despite the distance between the street and his first-floor bedroom window, Ahmed saw some red seeping through the white fabric of that Dishdasha… In broad daylight.

Ahmed wasn’t on that street, nor was he seen by the soldiers, but his heart was blown to pieces by that bang. With shivering limbs, he dropped back on the bed and struggled to hold back the tears.

~~~

The next few days, Ali asked Ahmed to come and get groceries with him. He agreed, and they went to the nearest convenience store in their block. Once they reached there, they had to stand outside in the long queue under the sun. It has become a usual routine at this point. This line wasn’t unattended, though. The Iraqi soldiers had to be there to keep watch.

However, Ahmed’s anxiety emerged when he noticed the way Ali never averted his resentful gaze from the soldier, who stood and monitored the queue the brothers waited in. Summer was supposed to be gone by now, but Ahmed started sweating as he stood behind his brother.

“Ahmed,” Ali called subtly without looking back at Ahmed.

“Yes?” Ahmed answered.

“There is a man in that alleyway,” Ali whispered.

Ahmed turned his head at the alleyway on his left, between the small convenience store and the other small bricked building. Ahmed spotted a head wrapped in a white Ghutra scarf, where only eyes were exposed, peeking over at him and his brother.

“I need you to keep an eye on him and make sure he crosses this street. Don’t pay attention to what I do,” Ali said.

“W-Wait what are you—”

“Just help me with this and I’ll explain later,” Ali interrupted.

Ahmed couldn’t ask any further questions when Ali left the queue and walked forward.

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?” the soldier yelled.

“I’m sorry, but this line is taking too long and I’m in a hurry!” Ali cried.

“Get back or else!” the soldier was about to raise his gun.

Ahmed’s heart beat faster against his chest. His brother and the soldier stood face to face. Yelled at each other. Too familiar—

He tried to shake it off and focus on what his brother told him.

The man came out of his hiding spot and quickly tip-toed across. As he did, he gave Ahmed that sympathetic look in his eyes and nodded to him. Ahmed nodded back nervously—

Something in the man’s hand caught Ahmed’s attention.

The object was shaped and sized like a brick, and he could see little wires attached here and there.

The man passed the street, neared the soldier’s car, and speedily glued this thing to it. He then disappeared.

Ahmed remembered the queue. He turned and saw Ali get back in line with dusty brown filth on his Dishdasha; Ali grabbed his Ghutra, which fell from his head during the short brawl, and tossed it on his shoulder. Surprisingly, there was no bang and no red.

“Ali—”

“Don’t worry, I’m fine.” Ali dusted his clothes. “I’ve changed my mind, let’s just leave,” Ali said audibly as he gently grabbed Ahmed's arm and walked away.

~~~

That night, when they returned home and had a silent family dinner in the living room, Ali fulfilled his promise. He brought Ahmed to his room and gestured for him to sit on the bed. Ahmed complied as his brother went to the wardrobe and took out a small box from it.

“Ahmed,” Ali began when he sat next to him. “I need you to listen to me carefully, and promise me you won’t tell Mom, alright?”

Ahmed nodded, reluctantly.

Ali looked at the bedroom door and returned to Ahmed quickly. “I’m working with the resistance,” he whispered.

“A-Ali… Y-You can’t be serious! This is a death sentence—”

“Calm down, Ahmed. I am aware of the risks, but I can’t stand by and let those men do whatever they please.” He gently squeezed Ahmed’s shoulders.

“Think about it. You know deep down you hate the things they do. Not only did they oppress you, but they’ve shattered your dreams of studying abroad, and mine... becoming a groom. They shattered everyone else’s dreams, too. They broke countless hearts when they stole the lives of our loved ones. And you know what happens if you utter a single word about freedom. Do you think this is fair?”

Ahmed remained silent as he clutched his knees. He shook his head.

“Let me show you something,” Ali said as he opened the box and pulled a folded piece. Ahmed’s eyes widened slightly.

“Remember when you said that the most important thing you’ll take with you is the flag? Tell me, why did you consider this the most important to you?” Ali shook the coloured fabric gently in his hand.

Ahmed hesitated again. “To remind me of home,” his voice broke a bit.

“Exactly. But here they are, trying to tear this flag to shreds and claim there was no such thing,” Ali said and added. “Promise me this, Ahmed, in this darkest hour, Kuwait should be the first and foremost. We are her people, her children. If she’s hurt, we stand and protect her. Promise me that you’ll do your best, do anything, to keep her alive. Don’t let those evil-doers harm and erase her.”

Ali’s grip on the flag tightened as he spoke those words. He then handed it to Ahmed.

Ahmed held the flag gently as though it was a fragile valuable item, a token of his homeland. Yet he too squeezed it in his hands and buried his face in it. Ali smiled—

The two brothers’ hearts jumped when the sounds of a door breaking and loud wreckage erupted downstairs. Followed by yells of men and screams of a woman— Their mother.

“Ali Hader! Show yourself!” a voice in a foreign accent boomed; with a cocking of a gun.