Blurts

Ramadan, Moving and Such

The month of Ramadan is in the middle, we’ve finally got used to its own specific rhythm in Kuwait, full of not doing much things (unless really very utterly necessarily needed) during the light time and trying to get everything done after iftaar. Iftaar or fatoor is a special dinner during the fasting month of Ramadan, made usually big and stuffing, it’s a first meal of the day during this time and whole families are gathering for it’s occasion, day by day, the whole month; to wait for the adhan – and in case of Shias wait another few minutes after the muezzin announces the prayer time – and with that break the fasting and enjoy the noisy, vivid meeting of parents, children, grandchildren, spouses and relatives. Needless to say that already crazy people get much crazier, especially drivers, trying to speed up as much as possible to get the first bite; blinkers not working, lights not being valid for them and speed bumps serving as launching pads for shooting the cars to the moon, as many people plainly ignore them and literally fly over them. Kuwaiti speed bumps are big, and the cars suffer.
Than all the cacophony leaves to pray and get again together at a tea, desserts and tons and tons and tons of traditional sweets, watching TV, chit chatting and being really loud once again. People come and leave till the time of suhur, which could be best described as a Ramadan late-dinner-early-breakfast, small meal and drink before the morning prayer comes and starts the whole fasting round again.
All that is happening in a pretty narrow time period, iftaar in Kuwait starts roughly quarter to seven in the evening, and my husband’s family gets suhur between the midnight and two o’clock in the morning, with fajr being shortly after 4 am. I’m not personally sure about till when Sunni sisters and brothers drink or eat, but we’ve got into the custom to end all the meals about half an hour before the adhan sounds, to be sure we didn’t invalidate our fasting.
Sometimes I just feel like Alice in Wonderland, this being my first Ramadan in an Islamic country and getting around this many members of family is exhausting – I’m quite a lone wolf and these meetings get really big and loud. But it’s interesting and fun experience, so different from our very quite, starving days in Britain, where the day is impossibly long and the country doesn’t change it’s tempo for the month unlike here; here the shops and malls and offices change their working hours to much shorter during the forenoon, noon or very early afternoon, and than re-open again after the evening prayer and keep open much longer till the night, ten, eleven, even longer. It makes it possible to make the fasting more pleasant for most of the people, and especially now when the Holy Month comes during the summer time, which is really hot, makes the thirst manageable even if you got some of the errands running.

iftaar
hubby
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iftaar
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iftaar
iftaar

We’ve finally moved to our new flat in Rumaithiya, painted and mostly furnished, with only small things left to bring and hang and sort. As we’re still in the struggle with officers and judges regarding some officialities, we’re not entitled to a house helper yet, so it’s up to me to run through the flat and clean till I think that I won’t ever need a treadmill because I burn so much fat just sweeping, wiping, vacuuming and polishing the seven rooms and five bathrooms, taking about four hours a day to do it (and I feel partially sorry for the house keeper, because our high fibre carpets are damn resisting all the good intentions, as well as our uber-comfortable soft and fluffy sofas, which have that kind of material that not only catches all the dust and dirt and hairs, it attracts them and gathers them on purpose, I firmly believe). But, eventually, she gets paid for that.
Our two cute tomcats from Beyrouth breeding station are on the way as I’m typing this entry, flying from Prague to Frankfurt and than from there to Kuwait, and I keep on thinking of them and wishing and praying that they survive their very long and exhausting route in tact, safe and sound, and we’ll welcome them either during this night or by tomorrow morning. Inshallah they will be all right, keep them in your minds, please!

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New Hope

Just a quick update of my previous post, our lost and found puppy July found a new family few minutes ago. Inshallah she will be safe and sound since now and be happy with her adoptive husky friends which are waiting for her right now.
Good bye, July, I’m gonna miss your puppy looks when you wanna cuddle with us. Have a great life in your new place and send us a postcard sometimes :D
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Randomly Barking

We’re back from Al-Sabah hospital for few days already, Dori’ve finished taking her oral antibiotics and alhamdulilah the infection seems to have faded away finally. On Tuesday we’re ordered for a check back at the hospital but inshallah she’ll be as healthy as a child of her age can be.
Abu took us on some minor fashion shopping while actually cruising Kuwait for a good furniture for the flat; Dori chose few dresses “as a princess”, as she says, me some non-abaya clothes in a rather hippie fashion – maybe I am the hippie my husband claims me to be.

Dori

We had a very weird moment on Friday when a small shadow appeared behind our door, which we first thought as of a cat; but after the curiosity won over us and we opened the door to check on the suspicious shadow, we saw a scared, hungry, thirsty and overheated puppy at our feet, desperately looking for any kind of shadow or cool place in the desert heat outside. And nobody even remotely looking for her. The weird part is that our door is inside of a yard behind beautifully crafted gates which are always closed, and that there are bigger doors leading to the main house together with a big shadow-throwing roof over the corridor. But, take it as you wish, maybe it was a small trial of tolerance and patience waiting for us at the glass entrance.

July
July

We took her inside and cooled her down, gave her a bit of drink and hurried towards International Veterinary Hospital so they could check for any maltreatment which could’ve happen to her before she rested at our doorstep. The check went fine and she seems to be all right except some scares of common things and being a little bit on the hungry side, and she’s at the time being staying with us, till we can find her a new, better adoptive family.
Not that we didn’t think of keeping her, but first of all we – me and DH – are both awesome lamas when it comes to dogs, second, our tomcats are inshallah about to be on the way and that would be a small zoo at home already, really. And third, she’s a puppy, under 4 months of age, untrained, and Siberian Husky. Potty training, basic orders training, and commonly having a dog (not matter the Husky’s need to run and move a lot) in Kuwait aren’t really easy tasks, and completely impossible for two laics, indeed.
So while I keep on running around the small flat in latex glove on one hand and with detergent in the other, cleaning puddles and poops after July every ten minutes (or Juliette, as we named her for now) and trying to get her understand that when we call her by name she should come and not just … plainly ignore; my husband is looking for an adoptive “parent” for the Lost&Found. Our not-so-close relative looks promising at this point, he’s a dog loving person and used to train them, so inshallah he will take her instead of his planned German Shepherd and make us all happy, including her.
And when she’s safely at her new home, we can finally stop showering so frantically before any prayer is due, and let our fingers unwrinkle for once.

I’m Gonna Get a Tattoo

Well, not on my skin, if that’s the question; however I will get one (and probably much more) and I will slap it on a wall. Stumbling through the dangerous and swampy internet waters I’ve realised that many of my favourite interior designs are based upon wallpapers or strong graphics on the walls, and a wall tattoo is the right solution.
It is in most cases (easily) removable, and it can make a room, be it a bedroom, living room or your study, much more personal.
Digging into contemporary interior design is tiresome in the terms of overwhelming amounts of ideas and suggestions suitable for our new flat and the fact that my hubby shifted colour and furniture decisions on me means I am … like Alice in the Wonderland.
I managed to make a so-so imagination for most of the rooms in the flat, be it a colour of the wall, carpet or the furniture – through one very long evening here in the hospital. Google for the win, and my ability to look up things people can’t normally find as well (yes, I’m really patting myself on the back).
The possibility to customise your living area with these tiny (sometimes cheap and sometimes pricey) bits of graphic design is just plain awesome. A room with the same wall colour and same furniture can easily change it’s atmosphere just by it – putting a big black crow on the wall behind a sofa in one case or a fragile floral design in another, and here we go, two a bit more personalised, different spaces immediately just by snap of a finger (or a sticker, if you may).
Kid’s rooms are much easier. No need to worry about pictures covering the wall, making it more children-friendly and bright, just slap a sticker on the paint. You have less worries and a kid has more fun.
I’m definitely going to get a tattoo. If not for living room or bedroom, than for my study room. It will be, in the end, the craziest room of all anyway. (And I bet my shoes it will be the most popular too.)
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Hospitalized

That is how we spend our days in Kuwait right now. The first week was a calm breeze, the second is like a rocky storm. We encountered several problems in our plans such as unwilling officers, unneeded circumstances and such, some got solved, some yet to be.
One of our least expected complications occurred when we took Dori to a doctor to check out her continuous ear problems, stretching three weeks back to Britain, as mentioned few posts earlier.
First doc, recommended by my mother-in-law (a nurse), just looked at it and referred us to Al-Sabah Hospital in Shuwaikh area with acute mastoiditis. There we got checked once again, and to our surprise there was no do-it-and-leave treatment, we were immediately hospitalized on the ORL ward, not even a chance to pick up pyjamas back at home.
Dori got her first infusion in the life and my heart still shatters into hundreds of pieces remembering how full of real pain was her cry. Up to today we are on her fourth infusion spot and several allergy tests and blood taking from her instep and a toe. The poor baby is full of needle holes, and we are still to stay here several days, so we will complete the whole week – Sunday we came, Sunday we’ll leave – inshallah.

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Dori

On the same day Dori got hospitalized she was ordered to the X-Rays of her ear bones and nearly at the midnight to a CAT scan – that’s how urgent her case was according to the doctors in Kuwait. (Good morning, Newcastle?)
Monday noon she was in the surgical theatre getting an inner ear surgery to clean up the infection, and after an hour and a half back in the room with us, eventually in a new room; the first night we spent in the general women’s ward, which was empty on Sunday, but started to fill with other patients on Monday, and Abdullah didn’t like that and got us transferred to a private room on a different ward. That first night I got no sleep whatsoever, Dori was crying out of her sleep every few minutes, and honestly sleeping on a chair is a little bit spine-breaking anyway. Not mentioning that there were nurses and doctors checking on Dodo every moment, once for the drip, once to prepare her for a general anaesthetics for the CT scan, than for a second sleep for the surgery. That day she had been fasting – except a small cup of water and three biscuits – for nearly 22 hours, more than many of the first-Ramadan-fasting reverts and Muslims.
Since then, alhamdulilah, her ear is getting better and the threat of a second, bigger and bone-opening surgery is fading away every day. We have to stay here in the hospital room for few more days, till Sunday. Dori will remain on the dripping funnel with Penicilin and antibiotics and doctors will keep an eye on her ear, making sure the infection is gone before we are let to go home again. To the “sand castle”, as Dori says. To the “stinky”, as she calls the incredible heat outside. And to the “king”, as she refers to all the men in the traditional Gulf clothing here, beginning with her grandfather.
I’m trying to make her daddy more of a “royal” too, but unsuccessfully so far. Maybe later, perhaps?

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