ShareThe other day at a chalet in Khairan, I began chatting with the caretaker, a lanky fortysomething man from India. What he told me boggled my mind. He said he has been in Kuwait for more than three years without travelling back home, and plans to stay yet another year to save some more. He has been working for his current sponsor for a few months now, after transferring from his initial sponsor, who according to him, was mean and made him work non-stop. Apart from a few months in Funaitees at his previous sponsor's home, he has been in Khairan for his entire stay in Kuwait.
Don't you get bored living in a remote area all alone? Do you ever go to other parts of the country, I asked him. The haris laughed disdainfully - it costs KD 5 for a taxi from here to Fahaheel, he said. That's KD 10 both ways, plus more if he headed to Kuwait City or elsewhere. Has he seen the Kuwait Towers, the ubiquitous symbol of the country? Never, he replied. I've only been to Kuwait City once, and Maliya another time, he said, as I stared incredulously.
He said Khairan was a desolate place until very recently, gesturing to rows of newly-built chalets. He misses his wife and kids - a teenage boy and a preteen girl - although the Internet has made it easier to keep in touch. He said despite his meager monthly salary of KD 100, he has managed to build a house on a plot belonging to his father. Only the structure has been erected, he said, adding it needs a lick of paint, doors and windows etc, due to which he has extended his stay in Kuwait. We are five siblings and our families live together in a small house, he said. To have a roof over his family's head was why he came to Kuwait in the first place, reminding me that he left for foreign shores at a late age.
Although he has no complaints about his living quarters - the villa is new - he lamented the high cost of produce at the stores in the neighborhood, as his sponsor doesn't provide any food. One tomato costs 100 fils, and a kilo of onions is sold for 350 fils, while it's less than 100 fils in the city, he rued. A cylinder of cooking gas costs double at KD 1.5. All these expenses eat into his already-low salary. To make matters worse, he confessed he's not much of a cook and mostly survives on eggs, as they are cheaper, easy to cook and nutritious.
He said he plans to go back to India after his house is completed, but admitted prospects are bleak. I asked him what he did before coming to Kuwait. He said he belongs to a family of weavers who make the famed Banarasi saris that are a wardrobe staple in most Indian women's closets. But changing fashion trends and cheap imports have decimated the industry, driving many weavers to ruin. After hearing his sorrowful tale, I felt thankful for all what I have been given - a wonderful family, a decent job, a cozy house and the ability to travel to any corner of the earth.
Later on the long drive home that night, I still couldn't get the poor haris out of my mind. There are countless others like him - taken straight from the airport to work as shepherds or caretakers in the middle of the desert. For many, livestock are their only companions, while others - like the haris - only have the four walls of their makeshift rooms for company. But I admired his perseverance and dogged pursuit of his goal. He sacrificed family and country to live in an alien land with no home comforts - however, at the end of the day he has something to show for it, which isn't the case for many others whose circumstances are far better. A harsh tradeoff, some would say.
By Shakir Reshamwala
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