‘The Interpreter’ is the English version of Arabic novel ‘Al Tarjuman’, authored by Ashraf Aboul Yazid, an eminent writer and poet of Egypt
They are thieves of our oil rights, thieves to whom the government granted a license to steal from us.”
Ashraf Aboul-Yazid
The truth of the story isn’t what matters, but rather its ability to attract attention. This is the first lesson we learned when we started writing for the press. The story of the Filipino girl, “Vicky Jeffrey Ko,” falling into the hands of the Vice Squad is just another news item that could be repeated a thousand times. But when the headline reads like this, it suddenly becomes one of the hottest stories:
“Filipina Arrested in an Arab Expat’s Apartment on Prostitution Charges”
And why Arab? We have twenty different Arab nationalities, so we must be specific, especially if those Arabs come from the tyrants’ peacock nations:
“Filipina Arrested for Prostitution in an Egyptian’s Apartment.”
Prostitution is a heavy topic, maybe a bit harsh on the reader’s eyes, though still powerful:
“The Filipino Woman Practicing Vice Falls in an Egyptian’s Apartment.”
The phrase “practicing vice” is a nice touch. Anyway, I’m waiting for “Shaden” to come so I can calm her, once she finds out that this Egyptian is none other than the person who worked at the Arab Translation Foundation, and who she often complained to me about:
“An Egyptian Translator Runs a Vice Den in Salmiya.”
True, I know what happened, but the news is the news, and excitement is excitement. I’ll try to make the accusation sound more appealing, so I won’t be accused of spreading false news:
“Filipina Falls in a Vice Den in the Apartment of an Egyptian Translator Working in One of the Ministries.”
Since “Shaden” broke ties with Dr. “Salman Al-Ibrahim,” happiness has never opened a door for her. The phrase she kept repeating endlessly was that the translator was behind the catastrophe that befell her. Today came the time for revenge against the man who deprived her of happiness.
I remember when we were preparing to celebrate the news of her winning the Women’s Foundation for a Better World Award. She told me that the award would open new horizons for her, and might even speed up her application for citizenship. We all suffer in our country, where we are labeled as stateless.
How can there be a being on this planet whose nationality is unknown?
Despite my support for her, I — frankly — feared that “Shaden” would do to me what her friend did to her, that novelist engineer who managed to obtain citizenship two months ago. When he came to visit her, he started talking to her, crossing his legs as if he were a Kuwaiti, and said that she probably didn’t understand him, being from the stateless category. She went mad and decided to begin her plan, but what happened afterward dragged her back to square one.
It’s our fate as stateless people to remain a field for experiments.
Even our name has become like a head where they try to shave its hair for the first time. At first, they called us “stateless,” then sometimes they wrote that we were “illegally residing,” and finally, they settled on a description that’s more like an accusation: “stateless individuals!”
For decades, we’ve served in the army and police, knowing no country other than Kuwait… and still remain stateless.
But even the number itself is being mixed up with its digits. Before the invasion, we were a third of the Kuwaitis, if you remove the numbers of Indians, Arabs, and the entire mix that takes our rights here. But they said our number doesn’t exceed 100,000, and at best, 125,000.
They count us like ostriches, as if these thousands don’t have rights like human beings. They are the same ones who determined our numbers at 220,000 in June 1985, as stated in the Civil Information Authority’s records.
My great-grandfather, Lafi, tells me that he didn’t register his name because he used to travel freely with his family and sheep, from Kuwait to Iraq. But when they settled in the desert in Kuwait in the 1950s, they started documenting names. At that time, he didn’t have identification papers, like many others, so they accused him of being from the Levant and hiding his original documents. Meaning, he was equated, may God forbid, with forgers. And I, his grandson, Lafi the younger as they call me, cannot refute this accusation.
May God have mercy on you, my grandfather.
They grant citizenship to Palestinians, Syrians, Egyptians, even Indians, but refuse to grant us the right to the nationality of the country in which we were born and raised, and for which we serve on its borders to ensure its security. In Britain and America, with all their greatness, it’s enough to be born there to receive citizenship from either country!
We discovered that for over a quarter of a century, the government has been treating us with a secret document that tightens our lives, as if we are a burden that must be rid of. They were happy with our numbers to increase Kuwait’s oil export rate, because the OAPEC organization increased the export rate with an increase in population, but after the system was adjusted in 1983 to be quotas for countries, regardless of the number of individuals, the government realized that it had to get rid of these extra numbers!
We, who participated in defending Kuwait, and among us were martyrs who gave their lives in the resistance that remained and didn’t flee, without asking about their identity. Among us are those who joined the coalition forces that came from Saudi Arabia during the liberation of Kuwait.
Did they forget the statement by Defense Minister Sheikh “Abdullah Al-Jaber Al-Sabah” during the liberation war that our percentage in the army was 80%? Even those who joined the Iraqi Popular Army were forced to do so under the threat of arms.
“Today, we live off allowances and temporary permits, on the condition that we relinquish our right to claim Kuwaiti citizenship.”
My father was pressured to give up his legitimate right to Kuwaiti citizenship. We were seven children, and he was looking for someone to help raise us. After his passing, may God have mercy on him, we saw a glimmer of hope in the decree by the Amir of Hearts, Sheikh “Jaber Al-Ahmad,” in 1999, granting citizenship to two thousand stateless individuals each year. But the law was stopped, only to be brought back for formal approval by the National Assembly, despite the fact that a third of our numbers were qualified to apply for Kuwaiti citizenship.
“Shaden,” for example, is one of those who qualify, as she was born and registered in the 1965 census and has continuously lived in Kuwait. However, the complexities deprived her — as they did the majority — of naturalization, and thus deprived us of equality with Kuwaitis in terms of health, education, travel, and property ownership.
Now, they’ve started playing with nationalities, threatening to revoke them from those they accuse. Even the magnetic identity cards have been granted to Kuwaitis with citizenship, as well as to expatriates, but we were denied them. Some of us are now leaning toward the idea of protesting to demand these basic rights.
“Egyptian Translator’s Apartment in Salmiya Turns into a Vice Den”
We must strike back at their presence, forcefully and violently, as they have harmed our existence. Their image must be shaken. Crime pages must expose them.
About ten days ago, one morning, “Shaden” came to tell me that she was going to write a story about the translator. I was stunned because I didn’t know he had fallen. She was writing the story with much pleasure and malice, about the “great Egyptian translator and writer, our colleague,” who fell into a coma after suffering a stroke in the brain’s control center. She mentioned how he had completed several cultural projects, translated 30 references, and wished him a speedy recovery. “Shaden” hoped Dr. “Salman” would see the story and forgive her mistake with him, so he would contact her to thank her after it was published on the front page of the cultural section of the newspaper.
But he didn’t. And so, her revenge was due:
“Government Employee Runs a Vice Den in His Apartment.”
Is that translator still a government employee? You need to verify, “Lafi.” Maybe he finished his service after he stopped working. No, I don’t think that happened. The stroke occurred while he was on duty, and he was transferred from his office. Maybe he has the right to three months of medical leave before being dismissed. Only a month has passed, maybe:
“Filipina Vicky Provides Sexual Services in Egyptian Translator’s Apartment.”
These Egyptians and Filipinas, and all these foreign nationalities in Kuwait… they are thieves of our oil rights, thieves to whom the government has granted a license to steal from us.
The important thing now is for the editor-in-chief, Mr. “Samir,” not to object to the story. As long as there is an Egyptian in the tale, he will scrutinize every word. He never forgets to watch out for his own family. What is our fault, Mr. “Samir,” if your relatives are criminals, lawbreakers, and sponsors of corruption?
Only “Shaden” can move the story from the local news page, which is overseen and reviewed by “Samir,” to the cultural page. She can link the story to culture:
“Culture is a Victim of Prostitution”
This one is heavy; I don’t think it will pass. I should leave the entire story to her, give her the details, and let her have the freedom of phrasing. She’ll just put my name so I can get the reward. As for Mr. “Samir,” let him go to hell, along with the translator. Maybe “Vicky” is waiting for them at his gate. (Continues)
Click here for Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19,
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About the Author
Ashraf Aboul-Yazid is a renowned Egyptian poet, journalist, novelist, travelogue writer and translator. He is author of around three dozen books and Editor-in-Chief of Silk Road Literature Series.