Driving as a Subversive Activity

Driving as a Subversive Activity

This is actually a fascinating article about driving in Kuwait; so let me tell you about Red Adair.

According to my secret sources in Wikipedia, “Red Adair began fighting oil well fires after returning from serving in a bomb disposal unit during World War ll. He founded Red Adair Co., in 1959, and over a long career battled more than 2000 land and offshore oil well, natural gas well, and similar spectacular fires. Perhaps, the most famous was the Devil’s Cigarette Lighter, a 450 foot pillar of flames. The 1968 John Wayne movie Hellfighters was based upon the feats of Adair during this 1962 Sahara desert fire. At the age of 75, Adair took part in extinguishing the oil well fires in Kuwait set by retreating Iraqi troops after the Gulf War in 1991”. I could go on because Wikipedia does.

Here is a guy who probably held down (he’s dead now) the most dangerous job imaginable. In the movie version of his life he was played by macho actor John Wayne. My point is this: when Red Adair was fighting the hundreds of incredibly dangerous oil well fires here in Kuwait a reporter asked him, “What is the most dangerous part of your job. He replied, “Driving to work.”

I share this feeling with Red Adair. We are kindred spirits when it comes to the roads of this desert domain. It is hell and it is dangerous. Some days I would rather be fighting fires. Highway 30 in Kuwait, a road I travel on nearly each day, is listed in the Guinness Book of World Records as the most deadly roadway in the world. I guess that’s what makes it a world record.

A sad tale, as the Iraqi soldiers were retreating Kuwait after their ill fated invasion American forces easily found them and destroyed long convoys of their trucks, soldiers and stolen goods while stalled on the ground. They may have in fact been on highway 30. Because of adverse rush hour traffic conditions in Kuwait thousands of these soldiers were killed while waiting for the lights to change. Never trust the road system here if you want to make time and distance. Hussein made a huge mistake and paid for it dearly, or I guess his troops did.

To understand driving here it is important to understand a little bit about Kuwait itself. As my students love to point out: “What do the last four letters of Kuwait spell?” Yes, that sort of sums up part of what I want to say here. The other part is a big thank you to the French for designing the road system in the first place. I think that if the French did not like the Kuwaitis there were much simpler ways to get revenge than designing the road system in the way that they did. A simple thermal nuclear device, or other means of mass destruction may have been sufficient, but a constantly clogged and congested road system seems to be having the same effect.

Grant it I am being harsh on the French because while still a student a French security guard once kicked me in the ribs while I was resting on the grass near the Eifel Tower, in my hasty over reaction I tend to blame the entire French nation and took a cheap shot. The over all Kuwaiti road system is patterned after a spoke and wheel model. From Kuwait City a series of six roads radiate outward like concentric ripples on a pond created after throwing your prayer beads into the water after hours of futile prayer seeking solutions to the almost seemingly incurable road system. These ripples are the ring roads one through 6, seven is still under construction. We currently live near ring road #4. It’s a loud busy highway.

Running in a more or less north/south direction are the spokes starting with the Gulf Road (where you do not what to be on Liberation Day) and then numbered in multiples of five moving from east to west are roads such as the previously mentioned and infamous 30, 40, 45 etc. These are the roads which form the main transportation infrastructure and in and of itself make a pretty good design.

Within each area defined and bounded by the hub/wheel/spoke model are the numerous commercial, industrial and residential areas Each section is divided into areas, blocks and street numbers. Usually, in the better neighbourhoods, but not ours, a large street sign will show you all of the areas so that one can easily find their way. As one Kuwaiti guidebook worded it, “It is easy to find your way in Kuwaiti providing you do not get lost.” I live in Hawally (frequently confused with Hawaii) which likely holds the honour of having the worst traffic conditions in all of Kuwait. Kuwait, like America, is based on the premise that public transportation deserves lip service and real men drive cars, although recently women too have been allowed to drive here. Not to be overly sexist, but truly the issue of women drivers here takes on a whole new dimension. Ever hear of a hijab? Veil? Visibility? On coming traffic?

My neighbourhood also has the distinction of containing many schools and government buildings, including a large and modern maternity hospital (Dar Al Shifa). Each school generates incredible volumes of traffic as each kid is delivered by personal driver to the front gate of the various schools. The roads are narrow, cars park at all angles and driving is more like negotiating a labyrinth.

Another factor causing the huge traffic jams are the long lunch hours and short work days of the average Kuwaiti. Generally speaking many people work a four hour day. By 2:30 the roads here are snarled with congestion. Many of the intersections are uncontrolled (no lights or signage) and the concept of yielding has not yet entered the culture of driving here.

At a typical intersection I watched as four cars approached each other at about the same time. None of the drivers were willing to yield; so they all moved into the intersection quickly followed by car number five and six. Perhaps, because they all feel entitled no one would yield and therefore their individual selfish actions negated the need to strive for the greater good and a brief horn hocking stand off ensued. It was amazing to watch from the sidelines. Driving is truly an aggressive art form and guide lines of general courtesy are sadly lacking.

I avoid driving in Hawally (commonly called Hawally World, but just by me). When the work day ends for me, “I sneak out the back Jack, start a new plan Stan,” and start the fifteen minute walk home. My students revere me in stunned silence when I told them I walk to work and that I walk in Hawally. Actually exercising in this small way and on a regular basis renders me a super hero, or a fool in their eyes. I will say this about walking; it is only marginally safer than driving. Had the Iraqi troops walked out of Kuwait in their massive retreat more would have survived, of that I am certain.

I have become an aggressive pedestrian. If people cut me off, or nearly clip me with their mirror I, in an expressive example of sidewalk rage, kick, slap or punch the offending vehicle while at the same time rendering up equally expressive hand and/or arm gestures which transcend most linguistic and cultural divides. Because I am a white westerner in an Egyptian, Pakistani neighbourhood I tend to stand out, especially if I happen to be wearing gym shorts and my “I Love NY” T-shirt after leaving the school having played squash. At those times, as a pedestrian I am likely more of a target. This could be construed as ethnic cleansing and I am the victim of my own folly.

Enough of walking. Nobody walks. This is Kuwait. It took me only 6 months and about $300 dollars to get my drivers license here. First, one needs a job and a temporary work visa, following that the next step is a permanent work visa and a civil ID card which entitles you to legal protection under Kuwaiti law and Health care, once that is obtained, along with your passport and a translation into Arabic of my Ontario drivers license, and several trips to various government offices, I received my Kuwaiti license. I am now legal.

I had been driving on my International license which is temporarily legal until you receive your civil ID. At that point you are expected to have a local license. I only drove illegally for two months, but I was told by a Kuwaiti friend the solution to that problem is to never tell the police that you have a civil ID card when you show your International License, or tell them you are a member of the Royal Family.

Under that advice I braved the streets of this foreign land sans mishap. I will add that my neighbour also used my International driver’s license and was stopped on a few occasions. He is much more swarthy and suspicious looking than I am, like comparing Popeye and Bluto. I’m Popeye. When stopped Duane simply held up my license conveniently located in the glove compartment and he was waved on by the police. Being Western expats we are not under the same level of scrutiny as are other expats, one day I’ll tell you about social hierarchy.

Just to irritate everyone in all other parts of the western world who are totally dependent on petroleum and their by-products, gas is as cheap here as sand. Camel dung is more expensive. I drive a five year old luxury Hyundai with no options except for a tape deck. What is a tape deck useful for any more? I think I got rid of my tapes in High School. To fill the tank I pay about 2.5 kd. Today, as I write a KD coverts to about 4.2 Cnd dollars; so doing the math a tank of gas cost about $10 Canadian dollars, and our winters here aren’t cold like yours. Take that!

I’m sorry, that was another cheap shot. I’m petty that way, but I’m still the one that has to drive here, so that sort of balances the over all equation. There is no such thing as competition here when it comes to gas stations. Back in Canada we have the illusion of competion, but we still get screwed by the global petroleum giants, but that’s just me being paranoid. The trick here is actually finding a gas station. I am told there are about 100 gas stations in all of Kuwait which means they are out numbered by mosques in about a five to one ratio. I lament the fact that mosques don’t sell gas.

Having located the nearest gas station, I pull in. The stations are called Oulla and I don’t have a clue what that stands for, if in fact it is even an acronym. It could be Arabic for monopoly. I’ll have to get back to you on that one. Pulling up to the pumps you will notice a number of things. Some of them are alarming while others only create mild anxiety. Some drivers smoke and do not always turn off their engines while refueling. I think they are under the false assumption that if they blow at a Oulla they are still entitled to the 70 virgins, now that may apply to a premium fill up, but otherwise I’m guessing all bets are off when it comes to those virgins. Inshalla.

What bothers me at the gas stations, other than it is usually a near death experience, is that despite all the cheap labour in Kuwait, no one has ever asked me if I want my oil checked or has offered to clean my windshield. I have feelings too! Once your gas is pumped the driver in the car behind you typically begins to incessantly honk, in a friendly way, as a reminder to get your ass out of the way. Quickly, I remember to give the gas attendant a tip which amounts to about 20% of the cost of fill up. These guys make so little, they have to survive on tips, but would it hurt them to just once clean my windshield. Where are those squeegie kids when you really need them?

One of my senior students recently told me that all a young Kuwaiti wants is a fast car a free ride. Now I ask by any standard is that asking too much? I think as a student I too wanted a car and I got one. A VW bug. These kids are talking something more substantial. It is very common to see a range of Lamborghinis, Ferraris, BMWs, Corvettes and the like, pick-up trucks are popular and these drivers tend to be true hell raisers. My closest calls have been with high speed pick up trucks which approach from the rear at warp speed 5 or 6, often it seems with Klingon cloaking devices, so you don’t actually see them until they flash by, weave in front of you and do a lane dive from the far left lane to the far right lane in mere nano seconds. I blink. Its over. Did it happen?

U-tube has a delightful section of Kuwaiti road accidents of incredible consequence for those lovers of carnage and senseless destruction. There are video clips of cars that have been totally destroyed and serve as exemplar accidents in that often only one single vehicle is involved. Drivers are perfectly capable of killing themselves without the aid of another vehicle. A lonely way to die. Typically the Kuwaiti police leave the remnants of wrecked vehicles at the side of the road, for all to see, for several days or weeks perhaps as an object lesson to those speeding by. Death sculptures. It doesn’t seem to work.

A friend here has actually witnessed a road worker getting killed after being hit and thrown a great distance. The accident, if you can call it that, occurred on the shoulder where the victim had been working. The driver was looking for a quick way to pass on the right and hit the worker instead. The driver did not stop. Like the sign on the highway here says, “High speed Equals Prison and Death.” I’m not sure in which order those events would happen, or if they are cumulative, but it doesn’t sound promising. Just go to U-tube.

This brings me to Wasta. Wasta is an informal system of privilege and influence, much like we have in Canada, but honed and fined tuned to get anything done that needs doing as long as you know the right people. In the example of the hit and run I just gave (previous paragraph pay attention) if the driver were Kuwaiti and of the Al Sabah royal family, likely he would not be charged. Forget what I just said about likely. The reasoning would be that there would have been no accident if the man had not been in the country and therefore in the way.

Likewise if any Western expat is involved in a road accident he/she would be to blame for that accident. Using the same reasoning, if we weren’t in the country there wouldn’t have been an accident in the first place!

Yesterday, as I strolled to the Dar Al Shifa Hospital, where the cafeteria staff still think I work in cardiology, I happened to see an ambulance speed right by the emergency entrance where I was standing. Security people were wildly scrambling to clear the entrance way, at the moment typically blocked with many parked cars. Oddly, the ambulance sped by to the amazement of everyone, including myself. Obviously, the ambulance’s mission was a pick up not a drop off.

However, I speculated that given the current levels of congestion on the roads today, I literally fear an accident because all or any emergency vehicles would be totally incapacitated by the traffic. Think about Iraqi troop movements.

I have frequently witnessed police cars with sirens whaling a mournful tune sitting helplessly in traffic as other drivers completely ignored them as they too had no where to move. In turn the frustrated officers got on their bull horns to say other mournful things to the increasingly agitated drivers, speaking in loud angry Arabic. It can be a shouting, but often static culture at times.

Liberation Day celebrations are coming up at the end of February and the roads promise to be cluttered with tanks and Hummers and everything in between. I plan to get several current pirated movies and hole up in my apartment until the rush goes away. Although, I do confess to a certain level of pride in myself as a driver, that despite my initial panic filled drive on the streets of Kuwait I have prevailed, now if I could just find my way.

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