Habibah Hassanali

Children

Kuwait – A Family’s Journey During War

By Habibah Hassanali ( Hamilton, Ontario)

I was born and raised in Karachi, Pakistan. My journey abroad began in 1976 after I graduated with a Nursing degree. It was at this time everyone was trying to go to the Gulf countries as these countries offered very lucrative pay. So, I applied for a Nursing job in Kuwait and was accepted. There I met my husband, Abdul Hamid and we got married in 1978. We have three children - our eldest son Abid, my daughter Imaan and my youngest son Mohammed. Life was going smoothly. My husband worked at the Ministry of Transportation and I subsequently worked at the Civil Aviation.

When Abid started school, we came to know that he could not get admission into an Arabic school because we were guest workers. We chose to send our children to a British school as it was near our house. Later, we learned that our children would need grades above 95% to be accepted into Kuwait University and that the Gulf countries do not give permanent visas to us. So, when we were to reach the age of retirement, they would force us to leave our lives of 15 years.. Naturally, we were worried both about our future and children's higher education in Kuwait. We did consider moving back home to Karachi, Pakistan but every time when we went for a visit, my children became very ill, so this was not an option for us.

Around 1984, my sister-in-law visited Canada and informed us about the Canadian permanent residence system. This got us thinking about moving to Canada but because my husband was supporting his family including his parents and twelve siblings back in Karachi, he decided that once all his four sisters were married, then we would consider moving. As time passed by, things did not change, and I was grew more concerned about our future and our children's education. In 1989, I visited the Canadian embassy in Kuwait. I also checked the newspapers for lawyers from Canada who would help us apply for our immigration visas. After some time, we heard that a lawyer from Canada was visiting Kuwait. When we met him we were so surprised and happy that he happened to be a fellow Ismaili!. His name was Iqbal Dewji.

We applied for immigration to Canada with the help of Mr. Dewji and got our date for an interview in March of 1990. Our interview went well and we were informed that it will take around six months for us to receive the Immigration Medical Exam (IME) forms. But luckily, we got our IME forms in the mail after only three days. We were so surprised! Shukhar alhamdulillah. We submitted our IME forms a month later in April of 1990.

In July of 1990, my parents-in-law visited Kuwait as they wanted to go for Hajj. Unfortunately, the Saudi embassy closed two weeks before Hajj. So, we decided to drive to Iraq instead. We wanted to visit the shrine of our Imam Mowlana Hazrat Ali and Imam Hussain (Peace be upon them). We also visited Holy places like Karbala and Najaf. While we were crossing the border, it seemed unusual quiet. The Police Officer refused to accept the usual Kuwaiti Dinar and instead asked us to pay in Iraqi Dinar. As we entered Iraq, we saw military and tanks all the way, I told my husband that something is not right. He said maybe the military are returning from the Russian War. Anyway, they did not bother us, so we went on to visit the Holy places and stayed in Iraq for five days.

We returned on a Monday and oddly that around 5:00 am on Thursday August 2nd, 1990, our Jamat Khana Mukhi Saheb called to tell us that we needed to go to our bank and cash out. We thought he was joking since he was our friend too. Then around 5:30 am another friend also called but alerted us that Iraq had invaded Kuwait and that there were dead bodies near Fifth Ring Road which was close to where we lived. We quickly went to the nearest bank where we saw a big tank surrounded by the military. They pointed the gun directly in front of us. We were so scared that our hearts stopped beating. We quickly told them that we were only there to withdraw some money through the ATM. Thankfully, they allowed us to use the ATM, but it wouldn't work. I assumed that as the military seized the Central Bank, they must have targeted the bank machines too. We went to a few other ATM machines, but they too were not working. We came home with no cash. Mukhi Saheb called us around 10:00 am to let us know that Jamat Khana was closed since it was located near the Sheikh's Palace and there was a lot of military surrounding the area. Instead, he offered everyone to pray at his house. Then, around noon, all telephone lines were disconnected, and we got worried.

The next day we noticed people were looting Kuwaiti citizen’s houses as the Kuwaiti citizens had fled, abandoning their houses. So, the military was patrolling the housing areas. If they saw any men or boys alone, they would capture and enlist them. One evening when we were going for our usual prayers, the military stopped us with guns pointed to our heads. We told them we were a family, not looters, and are going to our friend's house to pray. They checked our car, then let us go.

After four days since the takeover, there was a shortage of food in the grocery stores. We waited in line for seven hours just to get one loaf of bread. Every day it was getting harder and harder. We were surviving on just water and red dal. There was not even milk for children. Despite this, we had faith and still went to pray every evening at Mukhi Saheb's house (which was located past the military checkpoint). The military would check us every time but still allowed us to pass for prayers. There was a Jamati member who was visiting Kuwait from India. He was a council member and he tried to contact the Ismaili council of India through the Indian embassy to tell them what was happening in Kuwait. Then on August 20th, 1990, we received a message that all Ismailis to make arrangements to leave Kuwait and travel to Pakistan.

This made us think about our future our visas. When we got to the Canadian embassy, the guard informed us that building was closed but if we had already applied, our file number would be posted on the embassy gate and visas would be issued. If the visa number wasn’t there within 4 days, the embassy was permanently shutting down and the records destroyed for security reasons. If we did not see our file number, then we would have to apply again from our home country. This made our heart sink, and I remembered thinking, “where would we get money to apply again”?

Our Mukhi Saheb and Kamardiya Saheb made arrangements for buses to leave Kuwait. The route included traveling to the nearest border, Basrah, Iraq, then Abadan, Iran, and then arriving in Quetta, Pakistan. Unfortunately, the military had closed the Basra border, so we would have to take longer route through Mosul, Iraq. We had to send Abid, Imaan, our housekeeper, and my parents-in-law to travel by bus because we owned a small two-door car. Mukhi Saheb announced that those coming in their own car will be traveling behind the buses. He requested my husband, since he was a professional mechanic, to be the last car to leave so that if sa car broke down, he would be able to help. I think there were around 600 to 800 Ismailis at that time and 25 cars in front of us. While we were waiting for the buses and cars to leave, we went back to the Canadian embassy on August 22nd and August 23rd to see if our file number was posted. Nothing. The last group of buses and cars was set to leave on August 24th. While we were all gathered at the bus stop ready to leave at 11:00 am, I told my husband to try the Canadian embassy one last time. Despite the risks of going back to the embassy, I had to have faith and we had to try. Shukhar alhamdulillah, our file number was called & the visas were there! We cannot express how grateful and happy we were at that time.

This was very lucky break as all the files were destroyed in a few days and thousands of applicants from all over the Middle East had to reapply under new stricter rules and then wait several years for interviews.

As our convoy got near the Kuwait and Iraq border, soldiers were battling each other with gunfire spewing everywhere. Bullet casings were flying near our buses and cars. We were all very scared and feared for our lives. To this day, I can still hear the sounds. Our son, Mohammed was so frightened that he was inconsolable throughout our journey. At this point, it was too dangerous to stop and fix anyone's car, so Mukhi Saheb asked, that if anyone's car broke down, they had to leave it and try to fit on the bus.

We finally reached Iraq but still had to travel about twenty-four hours to reach the Mosul. Once we reached Mosul, we thought the buses had already crossed the border into Turkey, but the military had stopped everyone before Mosul. I think, there were more than fifty thousand people there. The people on the bus were able to walk ahead, but the people with the cars had to stand in the car line. The line was about five to ten kilometers long.

At this point, we had no idea where the rest of our family was. Remember, there were no cellphones at this time. But then we saw a fellow Ismaili in the line, he said that all the Ismailis were staying on a small hill about five kilometers away. First, my husband went to check, and then I took Mohammed. There was no access to food and washroom facilities. Luckily, some kind local Kurdish people helped us by letting women and children use their washroom facilities and brought us some food including watermelons and a two-to-three-day-old subway-like dry, hard bread which we ate with water. We had to force-feed our children. We had no choice. We were all tired and exhausted.

The military only allowed a few people and cars to pass the border at a time. It was a very slow process and every day was getting harder and harder. In the day, the temperature was so hot, and in the evening, it was very cold. With children, it became difficult to ask them to sit still. For example, I asked our housekeeper to take Abid to the washroom in a Kurdish person's house, which was down the hill, and across the road and then wait in a long line. Once our housekeeper made it down the hill with Abid, she bumped into one of her hometown friends from Sri Lanka. She got caught up talking and didn't realize that Abid, who was eight years old at the time, left her hand and disappeared. I was so scared. There were crowds of people and where would I even begin to look for him? - my heart sank. My husband was too far in the car line for me to get him to help. Mohammed's temperature was 102 F, so I told Imaan to stay with him and my parents-in-law. I strictly told her not to move until I returned. While on my search, I met another Ismaili but no Abid. I looked everywhere and couldn't find him. Then suddenly, I saw him on a ridge on the opposite side and he was walking towards a cave. I called out to him as loud as I could and even the people surrounding me tried to help by yelling at him to come down. But he was very far to hear us. I then noticed some people on that side of the hill and was able to get their attention- they stop him from falling into the cave and brought him down. Thank God for their help. I was so grateful to them.

The nights were getting harder. We didn't have any place to sleep. Somehow an Ismaili managed to arrange with a restaurant bar manager for families with children could sleep inside. He agreed for a fee he would allow us inside after 1:00 AM when the restaurant bar closed. Sine no one had any cash, another Ismaili who owned a jewelry business, volunteered some of the watches he had brought with him to start his life over in Pakistan. The restaurant bar reeked of liquor. We slept on the dirty floors under and between tables with no blankets or pillows. It was so cold. But we had no choice, it was still better than outside.

After 10 days, we were told that we will all be crossing the border. Again, the people on the bus gathered to one side, and people who had cars gathered to the other side. Except, instead of crossing the border they sent us to another zone. Everywhere you looked, you could only see large crowds of people. There was access to only two washrooms that were all flooded and dirty. For women, it was especially harder. We had to make a circle and one-by-one be let inside.

After a few days, we were finally able to reach the border station around 2:00 AM. Everyone and every car were being searched in detail. At the time, I was sitting on a pillow that had our Canadian immigration documents and some gold we had hidden. They asked us to step out of the car so they could do their security check. I went to grab the pillow, but the officer asked me to leave it in the car. In Arabic, I was able to tell the officer the pillow was for my son who is sick with a fever. Luckily, he understood and didn't argue further.

After the check, we still had to wait to cross the actual border. At 7 am, they asked us to start crossing, but then changed their minds. Then around 3 pm, they finally let us through the Iraq border post . As soon as we crossed, the first thing we did was find a washroom and clean up. The washrooms were in much better condition. Shortly after, we were all greeted by four or five people who were maybe council members, but I can't recall. They provided us with information on the next steps. At the time, Prince Amin owned a chain of hotels around the world, including Serena Hotels. People who arrived by bus, including my parents-in-law and our housekeeper, would travel to Serena Hotel in Istanbul, Turkey, and stay for three days, then fly to their chosen destination which included Karachi, Pakistan. And those people who traveled by car, they had to make their own arrangements to get to the Serena Hotel in Quetta, Pakistan. We decided to take all my children with us because they kept falling ill and travel by car through Turkey and Iran to reach Pakistan. The Iranian government helped by providing us with money for food and free gas for the journey.

Escape Route from Kuwait to Turkey

Travelling through Tehran, Iran, it took a week to reach Zahedan, Iran (which is the nearest city to the Iranian-Pakistan border) and Quetta, Pakistan. We traveled during the day and slept during the night. Once we reached the border, there were arrangements made by the Pakistani government to give all of us food and 6000 Rupees (approximately $60 CAD) for those who worked in Kuwait. Like us, many Ismailis were eager to finish their journey.

The road to Quetta was so bumpy that our five-month-old new car broke down. Luckily, the people in the village helped us fix it. At night, we stopped anywhere there was a restaurant or dabba. Everyone along the way was very helpful, shukhar. Finally, we reached the Serena hotel in Quetta, Pakistan. When we looked at ourselves in the mirror, there was so much dirt in our hair. There was soot stuck to our faces and bodies. Our clothes were soiled, and we smelled really bad. The travel wore us down both mentally and physically. We were there for three days, and were taken well care of, before we started to travel to Karachi, Pakistan.

The escape took us one whole month!

Once we arrived in Karachi, Pakistan, we stayed with my parents-in-law since we only had a total of 9000 Rupees (CAD $90). Most of the money we had left went towards Mohammed's doctor's visits and tests as he was very sick. We couldn't afford to take care of our housekeeper either, so we took her to the Sri Lankan embassy, and they were able to make arrangements for her, shukhar. Aside from shelter, our parents-in-law were not able to support us, so I had to sell some of my gold jewelry to survive.

We wanted to start our lives in Canada right away since we had the immigration documents, but we had no money to buy flight tickets for our family of five. We asked our family and relatives if they could help us, but they were struggling themselves. Initially, we were going to give our car to my in-laws, but we decided it would be better to sell it to buy flight tickets instead. For two weeks, we visited several car dealerships/private shops, but the offers received were too low, not even enough for one flight ticket.

My husband started looking for a job to support our family, but I was very concerned because I thought the immigration documents were only valid for one month. My gut was telling me that we will find our way to Canada, so I began preparing. I asked my sister-in-law to take us to the wholesale market to buy dishes and cutlery. My husband thought I was crazy—we don't have enough money and we're buying dishes and cutlery. Maybe this was my way of positive thinking.

On our way to the wholesale market in Mithadar, all we saw on the road were donkey and camel carts. The roads were so bumpy for our car. We were advised not to leave our car unattended or it will get stolen. So, my husband stayed in the car, while I shopped with my in-laws. A few times vendors came by the car and wanted to buy the car, we exchanged our phone numbers and told them to get in contact with us later as we needed the car to drive back home. I was done shopping so, I asked my brother-in-law to get my husband to bring the car around the shop to load the steel dishes and cutlery. While the car was parked, the shop owner came outside and asked customers who the car belonged to. I told him it belonged to us and he asked how much for the car if we wanted to sell it. We said since it was a new car, we wanted 300, 000 Rupees (CAD $5,420), enough for five flight tickets, and some extra for food and transportation. He agreed but we were very scared to trust this man we just met. We asked my brother-in-law to ride with him and asked them to follow us. Once we reached home, he took cash out of his pocket, but he only had 275, 000 Rupees (CAD $4,970). We had no choice. It at least covered our flight tickets. The following day, we transferred the car to him and bought tickets to Toronto and to Niagara Falls, Ontario, Canada (where one of my sister-in-law lived).

Today, we have settled in Canada where my husband, Mohammed and I live in Hamilton, Ontario where my husband is a business owner and an Auto-Mechanic, and Mohammed is a Pediatric Doctor at McMaster University. Abid lives with his family in Calgary, Alberta, and he is a Divisional Vice President at Morgan Stanley. Imaan lives with her family in Toronto, Ontario, and she is an Administrative Coordinator at the University of Toronto. I am also grateful to have two grandchildren with two more on the way. Shukhar alhamdulillah.

This journey that my family went through is only a glimpse of what happens during war. We left everything back in Kuwait and through the hardships and obstacles, we had to overcome our fears to survive. I learned that being humble, being persistent, and having courage were important for our family to get to where we are now. This journey has taught me to embrace change but also fight for what is right. I have grown so much throughout this experience (as well as many others) and hope that my children and grandchildren know who their parents are and how they got to where they are now.

Thank you Hazar Imam for giving us faith; Thank you Mr. Dewji for giving us an opportunity to find a new home in Canada; Thank you to our Ismaili community and thank you Canada for fulfilling our dreams.