Interview with Ruqaya Al-Kout

I’m Abdulaziz Al-Mahmeed, and today is the first round of our interview with Miss Ruqaya Al-Kout, the date today is Wednesday 29th of June 2022, it is currently 10:31 a.m. We are currently in Miss Ruqaya’s home in Salwa in Kuwait. Miss, do you give us verbal permission to record this interview?

Firstly of course I welcome you and it’s my pleasure, and nice meeting you the house is all yours

Thank you.

You’re welcome.

Are you okay with recording?

Of course.

Insha'Allah, can you, Miss .

Actually, if I wasn't okay with it, I wouldn't have said yes.

(Al-Mahmeed laughs)

(Al-Kout laughs) and I wouldn’t have responded so fast to your request of course.

You’re right, and we appreciate this

No worries, you’re more than welcome.

Miss, can you please tell me your full name?

Ruqaya Hussain Al-Kout

that's great.

Thank you

Your nationality?

Kuwaiti (Al-Kout laughs)

Blessings

May you live long, go ahead.

May your kindness persist, place and date of birth?

Look, I mean, I think a lot of us, like Mama Anisa, like Thuraya, like Ruqaya, like Abdulmohsen, like anyone among us, I mean, they don't exactly remember when or what day they were born. For example, I'll tell you, my big brother who is younger than me, the eldest one, Abu Tariq, Abdul Samad Al-Kout, younger than us, from us, almost like me, from Abu Fuad, and from several others, but I mean, the birthdate is different. So, everyone has a birthdate. Same with me, I don't know, of course, based on what I know, I'm from the Sharq area, which is next to the playground, which is the Alsharqi playground or something like that. I'm sure you've heard of the industrial area, which is now Al-Miyyas, according to the name. Al-Miyyas, of course, or Al-Mijas, was a place where they used to collect garbage or something like that. Also, the Shuwafat area, they could see the dam or the wall from there because there were no buildings or anything like now. Then, of course, we consider ourselves Sharqawiyeen [from Sharq]. Then, after a long period, my father moved with my uncle Hamza Al-Kout and my uncle Mohammed, I mean, a group of uncles, and Haider Abdulrahim Boushahri, may God have mercy on him and on everyone, they said they were going to live in Hawalli. Of course, until now, I don't exactly remember where because we were young. I mean, I stayed for a while, then they moved me to the Abdulmalik Al-Saleh Nursery, something like that, maybe a week, and then I left. We lived in Hawalli, in the Hawalli area, my father, my uncle Hamza Al-Kout, my uncle Mohammed Al-Kout, Haider Boushahri, Mohammed Boushahri, and Talib Al-Kout. These are my uncles and my uncles’ children and so on. God rest their souls, but this is basically an overview of the housing situation that I was in. Because I don't remember, I mean, from here, I don't remember, I remember, of course, after we moved to Al Maghreb Street, that's when I started remembering when my father enrolled me in the Hawalli Coeducational School. I mean, for a while, I told you, I went to the Abdulmalik Al-Saleh Nursery School, now it's Huda Al-Sha'rawi and so on, those were there in that area, but when we moved to Al Maghreb Street, we left Hawalli after a while, that's when my father enrolled me in the Hawalli Coeducational School for girls. So, of course, here, a bit, the family started interfering, so that I wouldn't go to school wearing an abaya, with my hair done, etc. Basically, I always refused this principle. I was ambitious, I mean, I loved studying. I mean, honestly, even in school, I always participated in school theater in school celebrations. I was successful. I remember my father used to take me and tell me not to act or anything like that. Of course, I lived a good life with my father, may God have mercy on him. I mean, he was very understanding, and he insisted on taking me to study at the Higher Institute of Arts and Theater. At first, he was very opposed because my uncles, may God have mercy on them, my uncle Abbas Al-Kout, and my uncle Talib, they were against it, I mean, no, abaya, don't study, what is this? I mean, here, as you say, it was a phase of stubbornness. My father said, I consider my daughter a man, let her go in. I mean, of course, all my brothers and so on, there were many problems and so on. To the point that I loved acting, but, I mean, out of fear of my family, I got into directing, art, and theater, etc. I couldn't, I mean, it didn't happen, there wasn't a field for me to act. Just that I'm a director, I graduated, of course, and I started, of course, getting information from here and there, trips to Syria, Cairo, etc., some countries, and thank God I reached the point where I am now, being a director, the first Kuwaiti female director, of course, a theater director, and also a writer, but my writings are few because, I mean, my direction has become more towards theatrical direction. Now, God willing, I intend to do television directing, but after that (Al-Kout laughs).

Wonderful, may God give you health. But Miss., can I ask you before I start my questions? I want to move the microphone because I'm afraid it's rubbing against the scarf and making noise. Can I put it on the scarf itself if that's okay?

Yes, that’s ok. Go ahead.

Okay.

You’re like our son.

Thank you.

Go ahead.

Thank you, Miss, you've now given me a nice summary or brief overview about.

About My life.

Yes your life.

Go ahead.

But you mentioned earlier that you're not sure about your birthdate or birth year.

No 1952, 51, 53 I told you that there is confusion, and of course now you cannot go and demand and say, for example, my big brother, why is his birthday like that, or my sister, so we left it for time, hmm?

Ok, is there a certain possibility for a specific date or year for birth?

Certainly not, I don’t know.

Umm.

So if I, Bu Yousif, for example, says the poet, what's his name, Al-Abidin, if he's the one who wrote, he writes poetry to show the birthdate, but honestly, from my observations, it's a mistake. I mean, it's not reasonable, for example (Al-Kout laughs), it's not that I don't want to remember names, it's not reasonable for someone now to have, for example, the same birthdate as me when he's much older than me. So these things, this confusion, happened through the 50s and 40s, etc. Yes.

Was there no documentation at that time?

Not at all. It was a home birth, and they didn't document anything, not at all. Maybe a year or two later (laughs) from our birthdate, something like that.

Ma'am, you mentioned that you were born in the first area or place where you lived, was it in the Sharq?

Yes.

Can you tell me about your childhood memories in Sharq?

Oh, look, let me tell you, I don't remember anything except maybe when the girls took me, the daughters of Mullah Abdeen, and my cousins, who are, of course, they were considered older than me, and I was a kid, they took me, Qirqi'an, Qirqi'an and Qirqi'an, we walked in Ramadan and so on. So they took me, I was lost, I don't know, they lost me, I fell in the cemetery, but, this is what I remember, something else I don't remember, I mean, it's not because we didn't live for a long time in Sharq. Maybe I was born, and then they took us to Hawalli, and I might have been three or four years old. The kindergarten days in kindergarten that I told you, Rawdat Abdul Malik Al-Saleh, I was crying, I was afraid, and I didn’t know what the teachers were doing, so my father took me out of there, you know previously they didn’t really care like they didn’t say oh you have to go with us, now my daughter or son are forced to go continue their studies. This wasn’t the way it was before, yes.

Ah, okay. Do you remember the house you lived in in Sharq?

Ah, okay. As far as I know, where the cemetery is, it's the Sharq Cemetery. And as for the industrial area mentioned, Al-Miyas, it's like a place where they used to dump garbage and stuff. Now, they call the area the industrial area. At this time, there's the Modern Library [Al-Asriya Bookstore], we were here in this area. But I'm telling you, I don't remember exactly, this is based on my information and stuff. I could be imagining things, I don't know.

Ok do you remember the house itself?

Regarding the house itself, let me see what I remember. I remember the room where we used to sleep, my father had made it. You know, it wasn't like now with villas and such, he had made it with wood or something similar. How we used to put our beds and go to sleep, four or five of us on top. But that's what I remember. I'm telling you, I don't remember anything specific from these things. I mean, I didn't live the childhood I remember, I remember things about Hawally, but not Sharq.

Okay, it seems like your memory was more active when you were in Hawally.

Of-course.

When you were a child there.

Yes.

Would you like to talk to me about your childhood in the Hawally area?

Ah, in the Hawally area too, we and, I mean, our house and my uncle Hamza Al-Kout's house, which is now Abdul Mohsen’s, used to be his cousin, my uncle Hamza Al-Kout's relative. So, of course, we used to play, play, we used to play whatever games, like “haila”, Amakoor fell in the oven, there were colorful tiles, red, green, and yellow, and we, along with the kids, would sit and play. I win and then someone else wins, and then we evolved into pictures, images of Shadia, Faten Hamama, Shokry Sarhan, and Abdel Halim Hafez. Instead of bringing books, each of us would bring our pictures (laughs). I was very, very, to the extent that as kids, I loved Shadia and Abdel Halim Hafez so much. One day, the girls were teasing us, they said, Whoever eats a picture, for example, of a singer, means you really love them.

(Al-Mahmeed laughs)

(Al-Koot laughs) My sister loved Majida, now my sister is a star, Ibtihal’s mother.

Yes, bless her.

Bless you. Where to start? Each one of us would eat a picture of the artist they loved. Oh, we used to play so much! Akous, I don't know what that means, it was a kind of hopscotch with the kids. These childhood things, oh, these are memories I'll never forget. We used to play so cleverly, with the girls, Shabara, Qumara, and I don't know what else. We'd hold a rope, one person on the right and one on the left, and we'd jump, calling out Shabara, Qumara, Shams, Nujum, and so on. I don't remember exactly, but that's how it was. And of course, those memories were wonderful and sweet, and unforgettable, especially because we, at my uncle Hamza Al-Kout's house, and my father, and Mohammed Al-Kout, and those, were always together. We always had gatherings. Oh, my mother, for example, would bring a boy named Adel, and my cousin would bring a boy named Adel, or Khadija would bring these sorts of things with my mother, they would race, they didn't have anything to do, 'this is mine, that's mine,' as they grew up, me, my cousins, and so on. These were lovely days, very wonderful childhood memories that you never forget. Memories of the past will never be forgotten, they'll remain in our minds forever.

Miss, before I ask you, the microphone went down, can I adjust it again?

Yes of course, go ahead.

Yes, I'm sorry, I know I bothered you.

No no, it’s no big deal really.

Maybe I should put it on your collar wouldn’t that be better.

Yes, yes anywhere is fine.

Ok um ok I’m so sorry.

No worries, dear, you are like my son.

ااا بس Thank you. But you brought up some games you used to play, I would like to ask you about them.

Yes.

The game of ‘Amakoor’ and ‘Akoos’

Yes, Amooker fell into the oven.

What's this game?

This is a game called "Amakor," for example. One person is chosen to be "it," and they blindfold themselves while others scatter. Then, the person who is "it" tries to find and tag the others. If they catch someone, that person becomes "it." It's a simple game, unlike the advancements and technology we have today. We used to enjoy playing these simple games as kids. Imagine, me and five or six other girls, I'd go and try to catch them. Sometimes even boys would join, but only when we were young. As we grew up, nope, no boys allowed (laughs).

And what’s the game of Akoos?

These are pic- I don’t know where it came from. It came from Egypt. I think, Akoos, the pictures are small, Shadia, Shadia, and Kamal El-Shenawi. Until now, you see in my mind this Faten Hamama, Imad Hamdi, Shukri Sarhan, because of this, we are all girls. This one loved Shadia, and this one loved Abdel Halim Hafez, and she used to love Shukri Sarhan, and it's normal, as she says, as if he was the boy of our dreams (Al-Koot laughs). These were the same. So, these are the same Akoos. We play, for example, oh, I have, for example, oh, fifty pictures, oh, 50, 40. Here you are, you're going crazy, saying, oh, I, oh, Abdel, oh, Abdel Halim Hafez, I pick. For her and she picks for me, I pick. If Abdul Halim comes out for me, I am the winner. If he comes out to her, then she is the winner. I leave the game and another girl joins. This was the way, yes.

And these games, did you use to play them in the neighborhood?

No, at home, we girls used to go out very rarely. That's just in the days when we were young. We loved playing, Amakoor fell in the oven and I don’t know what, Haila. I think we haven't forgotten yet. If my memory isn’t failing me, but these are almost the games that we used to play. The boys were different. After I grew up and went to Maghrib Street, my brother Abdul Mohsen Al-Kout used to love hunting birds Qufsi and Rummani. I learned these things from him, Zuhairi, I don’t know, so I used to cooperate with him and go hunting for worms. This is what they call the qubbi or the worm. I don’t know what name it is. So, he, me, and Sandy were in the house of Al-Kanadra, which is on the right side, and in the house of Aaa, Al-Shatti, which they used to call Um’s house. Umm Bahruh, now they have become Al-Shatti. I think their name has changed, Al-Awayid House. We were all a group of boys and girls. We were going out. One of the girls from Al-Shatti used to bake Iranian bread and sell Adani fat and thank you. They would like to walk from the house. The first time was then it was all tar and it would go to become an area. Oh Jabriya and what is Jabriya, this was not, it was all empty, so we would go out from Maghrib Street, all of us in the same house, and go directly to catch birds, they put this what they call it, the one I forgot its name, no, the important thing is that they catch birds in it, my brother used to stand up, what is the worm? Or the cockroach, he puts it in the middle of this, oh, I don’t know the name of the habala or something of this kind, and he puts it in. He goes hunting, and we run with the girls, and then he comes and slaughters them, cleans them, and roasts them for us. Those were the days. (Al-Kout laughs).

Okay, you told me you used to live in Hawalli, and then you mentioned Maghrib Street. When you say "Maghrib Street," are you referring to a specific area there, or was that the name of the area?

Okay, it's just Maghrib Street. I think it was limited to families who lived there. I forgot them, but what I remember is that after them were Al-Shatii, and then us, Al-Awayid, Al-Kanadra, and BouSindi, which is Karam's house. Then there was Asmar, I forgot his name, and Osama's house, and many other families that I forgot. Behind us were the Al-Saad family, Al-Mutawa's daughters, and Al-Mutawa's house. So, approximately, some of the families that I remember were Hamza's house, but I don't remember whose house it was exactly, I'm just telling you the ones I remember. These are the ones on our right: Al-Awayid's house, Al-Shatti's house, Al-Kanadra's house, because we were always together, playing and going out. They would go hunting, and we would go with them. These are the ones I remember. Yes.

Alright do you not remember your house in Hawalli?

Look, I remember there were about one, two, three, four, five houses. The door was blue, and my father had made something like a sitting area from porcelain, and men used to sit there. He had put on it a tablecloth or something similar, and they would sit there and have tea. But this is what I know there was a very big courtyard, and the courtyard was very beautiful with a sidra tree. We used to play under this sidra tree. My mother, may God have mercy on her, and my aunt used to live there. May God prolong her life. She was my aunt's daughter, and my aunt's son's wife. They used to prepare tea and pastries, nuts, and sweet treats because, may my father rest in peace, all my family members were known for their delicious sweets in the market. They would sit while we played around them, and those were happy days, really unforgettable and wonderful days. Oh, how I wish those serene days would return, and time would turn back. Ah, he says, "O Bothaina," I say, "O Ruqayyah."

Well said.

(Al-Koot laughs) Bless you.

Ok besides the backyard and the seating area can you describe the house for example the number of rooms and the layout of the rooms?

See, there was the “liwan”, meaning, you know, and then I think there was the parents' room and the girls' room, and the boys were in a room, and there was a hall, and a guest room, which were for the women. Then, between them, there was a barrier separating the men's room on the pretext that men always, you know, wanted to isolate themselves from the women and children. You know, back then, men would have conversations and laughter, and I don't know what else, which they preferred that we, as women or girls, didn't hear. So, there was a kind of isolation, you know. Like, as you say, behind the door, they had their bathroom and kitchen, and there was a boy who served them. I remember the boy's name was Zaid, he used to serve the parents and such. And, of course, we, the girls, and women, were in another direction. Besides, there was a kind of alleyway. This alleyway led to my uncle Hamza's house, which was on the right, and my uncle Talib's house, may God have mercy on them, on the left. That's what I remember, and simply that's it.

Ok do you remember who used to live in that house?

أWhich house? My uncle’s house?

No your house.

Yes, me of course and Ruqaya and my father and mother god have mercy on them, my brother Abdulsamad and my brother Abdulmohsen, my sister Khadija and Sakeena, Fouziya, Farida, Adel, Jalal. That’s us the group that used to live with our father and our helper Zaid.

What is your order among your brothers and sisters?Top of Form

Bottom of Form

I am the third. Of course, I have Abdul Samad Al-Kout, Abdul Mohsen, and according to my mother, there was a daughter between Abdul Mohsen and then me. So, I consider myself the fourth, but if we count the one who passed away, I might be the third. Yes.

Do you remember what the nature of your relationship was with your father and mother?

AAAA Look, I was spoiled, I remember that my father, may God have mercy on him, I don't remember, but they told me, that when Bu Tariq Abdul Samad Al-Kout was born after Abdulmohsen and several years later I was born, he said to my father, O Hussein, today you became a man, this girl is the one who will take you to heaven, so that's why I was very spoiled between my grandfather and my mother, and I loved my grandmother, my mother's mother, may God have mercy on her a lot. My father, may God have mercy on him, was very affectionate, we are six boys and six girls, in addition to the three daughters he had from his second marriage in India (Al-Kout laughs), my father was very affectionate, understanding and afraid for us, I remember that at night when we were sleeping, he would come with cigarettes in his hand, put the blanket on me and my brothers and my mother would do the same. Everyone feared my father, not that he was the patriarch of the family, because my uncles Abbas, Mohammed, and Mukhtar, may God have mercy on them all, were older than him. But his word was audible and it was implemented, he was a foul-mouthed and strong personality, may God have mercy on him, so I took from his character, so we would go out together and talk together, I gained many benefits from my relationship with my father, may God have mercy on him, he was a very kind man, just imagine that he was a strong and at the top and his tongue is merciless.

When you say that he had a sharp tongue, do you remember specific situations that come to mind?

Ah, there's something, but I can't mention it now (laughs). You see, when my parents intervened, as soon as I started attending the Higher Institute of Arts, my eldest brother, Tariq, and then my uncle, Abbas, said, 'If you choose to pursue art or anything of the sort, we'll take a very harsh stance against you.' Despite all they said, my father insisted, saying, 'My daughter Ruqaya is stronger than sixty men. She will pursue it whether they like it or not, and I agree with her.' So, there were issues and distance grew between us. My brother Tariq wouldn't talk to my father, nor to me, and my uncle Abbas was a bit distant. But later, all their daughters became artists, including that one named Farah Al-Sarraf who appears on TV, she's the daughter of my cousin, Abdul Aziz, Taher Mulla Jumaa, their cousin, is a lawyer. So, all their daughters pursued art, and it became normal, but I didn't have the chance. They prohibited me because I wished to achieve more. They said to me, 'Look, I consider you like my son, even though you're a girl. I consider you as capable as any man, but I don't want you to make mistakes or go astray.' He gave me advice, and I truly lived up to his expectations. I was very careful. Sometimes there was a woman named Ghaneema Al-Doub, she'd say, 'Ruqaya, let's go to TV or radio, they'll give us something.' Frankly, I was scared. I remember what my father said, so when she came, I said to my father, 'Dad, I'm going to TV or radio because I need to gain experience.' At first, he refused to let me go, but then Mansour Al-Mansour and Suleiman Al-, I forgot Suleiman's last name, they were presenters on the radio and such. So, he finally agreed, but then he forbade me, saying, 'No, you're not going to radio or TV or anything like that.' (Sighs) Even when I worked as a director in the Ministry of Education, I mean, I was active in school activities. I even wrote an operetta called 'The Peace Journey,' under the patronage of Sheikha Nashmiya Al-Sabah, the sister of Sheikh Sabah Al-Ahmad, may they rest in peace. So, I won first place in the whole Ministry of Education. I'll give you the lyrics, they're available. Among the words, I said, 'In the name of God, we greet you,' and I don't remember the rest. Let me give you the words later because I forgot. So, I won first place and started to excel. We went to Dubai, and the invasion happened. I continued my consultations there as a presenter. I returned under the pretext of working in acting in addition to directing, like all the artists did—Mansour Al-Mansour, Saqr Al-Rashoud, Hayat. They all worked in radio, TV, and theater. My father told me, 'You gave me your word, and you must stick to it,' but I couldn't.

Okay, I want to go back, you know. But just to make sure I don’t forget, let me ask you, what were the fears he had regarding the artistic field for example?

Bottom of Form

You know, back in the day, it was forbidden for girls to go out. I mean, if they had to go out, they had to wear an abaya. I told you earlier that my uncle Abbas used to tell my dad to make sure his daughter wears an abaya. Imagine, at the age of five or six, I had to wear an abaya and a headscarf. How was that? So, there was this fear, the family was very conservative in these matters. They didn't want girls to go out and act in theater or on television. If we didn't go out the way they wanted, how would we go to television studios, theaters, or cinemas? This was challenging our customs and traditions, and you surely know about this.

I have a question, was your family religious?

What do you mean?

Was the family religious? Is this fear based on religious beliefs?

Of course, my father was very religious, from home to the mosque, from the mosque to home. And my family, including my uncles Abbas and Majeed Kout, God rest their souls, they had Majeed Kout's Hussainiya named after them. So, if I wanted to pursue acting or anything like that, it was very difficult. Now, maybe, but with conditions. If the opportunity is missed, it's gone. These were the obstacles from my family's perspective. They didn't like the idea of girls acting, singing, dancing, etc. Now, things have changed, which seems unnatural to me, for this generation.

So ma’am, you told me a little bit about your relationship with your father. Can you tell me about your relationship with your mother during childhood when you were living in your house in Hawalli?

Look, my mother, no matter what I say about her, I can never do her justice. She's a person, in my opinion, unlike anyone else. She's kind, nurturing, and sacrificial. She sacrificed a lot for us, our well-being, and she took care of everything without any help. My father, as I mentioned, was strict from the beginning, with a strong personality. If he entered the house after work and the food wasn't ready, my mother would quickly prepare it, including vegetables, pickles, sauces, and everything else. She was always there to support him. My father was beloved, charming, and handsome, coming from the Yazdi family. He was the only one who spoiled me. My great grandfather married Kuwaiti women and my grandmother, whose origin is from Yazd, her name is Sakina Yazdi, so my sister was named after her. Our family from Yazd includes my father, my aunt Sarah, my aunt Fatima, and my aunt Rabab. My father was exceptional, taking care of everything. Frankly, everyone admired him, even the girls. Of course, they didn't flirt, but they admired him. My mother, on the other hand, was amazing in the kitchen. Every night, she'd prepare delicious dishes like Asida, Mahalabiya, or Machboos. She was an artist in the kitchen, and I learned almost everything about cooking from her. I'm known for my cooking skills, and I promise you, one day you'll taste our dishes.

(Al-Mahmeed laughs) Enshallah.

Certainly, my mother was the ultimate homemaker. I mean, she was the epitome of a mother. The neighbors loved her; I remember once a neighbor came knocking at our door, and I was about to cry because I thought she was going to scold me. She said, "Come on, she's your friend, you have to play together." That's just who my mother was, she wouldn't tolerate any harm to the neighbors. She loved them, cooked for them, and made sure to distribute food to everyone. After cooking lunch, she would feed us, let my father rest, then take her lunch and head to the homes of our relatives, like the Al Baharawi family in Al Maghreb Street, the Al Awayid family, or the Bu Sand family the Kanadra. They all gathered at our house one day, then at another's house the next day, and so on. They used to have breakfast with their families, then come and spend time with us, chatting and laughing. My mother was beloved by everyone, incredibly kind. For example, one woman would come to her and say, "Your daughter did this and that," and my mother would reply, "I'm sorry, let me kiss your head." She was so patient. Even if my father scolded her, she would forgive him, she never said no, she was the first lady. Let me tell you a funny story. Because my mother loved my father so much, and he worked in the sweet market, where there were beautiful Bedouin girls and all, she got suspicious and wanted to spy on him. But my father caught her looking from a distance. He saw her, and she panicked, saying she was just checking out the dates and figs. She was so scared she dropped the dates and ran home. My father asked her where she'd been, and she said she was just working. He asked why her clothes were dirty and where she'd fallen. Of course, he made a joke out of it later. This story shows his personality and my mother's love for him because my father was a true gentleman, a man of character. The whole family witnessed this. Hussain Al Kout is well-known for this.

Amazing. Well, regarding this, you mentioned, for example, about your mother in general and her relationships with people. But what was the nature of your personal relationship with your mother?

No, I was very, very indulgent with her, to the extent that even when I grew up, for example, if I wanted to go somewhere, imagine, even though I was grown up, I would bring money to give her. I'd say, "Mom, go to the market in Mubarakiya. I don't need anything, just go and get some towels for us. I just want to spoil you." I'd bring her things and put them in her hands to make her go, to get her to move. "Mom, go get this. Mom, go get that." I was very indulgent with her, and she was always there for me. Even when I went to visit my friends, sometimes we'd sit around, they'd read palms or something, I don't know what they called it, and they'd say, "Your mother's worried, she's sitting there thinking," or something like that. I used to love comforting her. When the invasion happened, in Dubai, she was with me, her and my aunt, Aunt Sara. So, my relationship with her was very, very, very, I mean, I loved her immensely. My mother is my life, and my mother is the red line. Even with my siblings, if anyone says anything, I say, "My mother is the red line," because I know how much my mother struggled with my father and how much she struggled with us, raising twelve generations. May God bless them both. They didn't fall short with us, both my mother and my father. Of course, my mother was more nurturing. I'm telling you, even though my siblings sometimes defend more, you know, men always side with their fathers, I side with everyone, but I love my mother, I love her immensely.

May her soul rest in peace.

May God Bless you.

You told me that, for example, after your mother cooked lunch and we had it, she used to go visit the neighbors.

Yes.

Did you accompany her on these visits?

So, very few times, I don't think so. Maybe I was a bit mischievous, especially in the Al-Shatti family, they had daughters, so I liked going to play with them or go with her. I was mostly, you know, with my mom, God rest her soul. Even with my dad, you see, sometimes we used to go for walks. My dad loved songs, I swear, I remember, Hussain Jassem's songs, the old songs, you know. I remember once they were in the diwaniya, my dad and with them were Uncle Abdulnabi and Uncle Abdullah and Uncle Abdul Kareem, you know. These are my dad's cousins, but since they were older, we used to call them uncles. So, they were in the diwaniya, and my dad and Uncle Abdulnabi were sitting there with the oud, singing, and I was enjoying listening. Those were the days. That day my dad punished me about it (laughs).

(Al-Mahmeed laughs)

What are you doing? I used to love music when I was young. They used to play the oud and sing. They were just young men, you know. I don't blame them, each one had their own life. Some of them cared about their families and their affairs. I don't want to judge them, they were just young men, that's all.

Alright, since we're talking about your mom visiting the neighbors.

Yes.

Before I ask about this, do you remember in which year you moved to the Hawally area and how long you stayed there?

So, I can't tell you anything definitive until I check. I was just talking to my brother Bo Fouad. I asked him if he remembers the house we used to live in, and he said, 'You were young,you were born in Hawalli not in Sharq' I told him, 'No, Fouad, Bo Yusuf was just telling me.' So, I don't remember how long we stayed in Hawally, but I think I went to Abdulmalek Al Saleh kindergarten. Then, after a week or two, we moved, and I attended Hawally Coeducational School. I remember leaving Hawally, we were on Al Maghrib Street. But which year exactly, I don't recall off the top of my head.

Okay, regarding the memories you're narrating, like when your mother used to cook or when she used to visit the neighbors, did these happen in Hawally or on Al Maghrib Street?

Maghrib Street.

Ah it was Maghrib street.

I don't remember if it was in Hawally or Sharq.

Okay.

Yeah, it was on Al Maghreb Street. From there, that's where I started attending Hawally Coeducational School for primary education. That's when I began going out with my mom more often.

Sweet, do remember your house on Maghrib Street?

Yes sure.

Is it the same house that you just talked about?

No, this is Maghrib Street, then. Of course, after years, it was named after my brother Abdul Mohsen Al-Kout. My father gave it to him as a favor, and he got a house there. I don't know where exactly, maybe after, or after, of course, he got married again (laughs) number 2, yes.

Do you remember in what year you moved to your house on Al-Maghreb Street and how many years you lived there ?

No.

Okay no problem, you told me that your father worked at the sweets market.

Yes.

What exactly was he working there?

No, of course, my father's beginnings, he used to dive with my uncle Mohammed Al-Kout, he was very, very, very much with my uncle Mohammed Al-Kout, may God have mercy on him and have mercy on them and grant them paradise. So, they were the first, they used to hunt for pearls and such, then the pearl market collapsed, and artificial pearls came out, so they started, what did they do? They worked in fetching straw or firewood because there was no gas, they cooked on firewood, so they used to go to Kazma, to Kazma, mounting donkeys, and I don't remember, but this is what I almost got this information. So, they used to bring straw or wood or firewood and sell it, this is the second trade. Also, trade, I mean, after gas and no gas, and dates and so on, so they went and worked in, my father worked in the candy market, all of them, my uncle Mohammed Al-Kout, my uncle Abbas Al-Kout, my uncle Hamza, my uncle Yousef, and Talib, of course, for Mmm, I don't know what I heard, Asaf House, I don't care, but these were a group who had rented the candy market, they were known, I mean, candy sellers, and I think they had a candy maker, and another person, I don't know, I think, I don't know, this is what I remember, of course, I got this information, so they were very, very skilled in making traditional Kuwaiti sweets, Bahraini sweets, almond sweets, sweets without this, and “rehash”, they were known for a long time. Then, of course, my uncle turned to work with Al-Asaf, like an accountant or something, my father turned to real estate, I mean, now if you go to the market, like the Kuwaiti Market, Al-Kout, Al-Kout, I mean, Hussain Al-Kout, my father was famous for buying and selling real estate, now the profession that my brother Ali Al-Kout has taken, they're doing the same thing, buying and selling, so they became in the real estate market, buying and selling, and my uncle turned to accounting for Sheikh Mubarak, I believe, or something like that, or now this is my father, my son, and his son, who knows, my husband Bu Yousif Jacob Al-Kout, this is where you can take a guarantee from, I don't know, as they say, on the edge, like they say (Al-Kout laughs).

(Al-Mahmeed laughs) No, on the contrary. So far, your memory seems rich, and you're providing me with very detailed and beautiful information. Alright, since you brought up the topic of your mother, may Allah bless her, her cooking, I mean, was diverse.

Top.

Yes, exactly, and on that note, you inherited that from her, and learned from her. Do you remember certain dishes you used to love in your childhood?

I used to love a specific dish that my mother made, called "Mtabaq Zbeidi" when I was younger. As I grew up, I don’t love it a lot. I also loved it when she made us Nareel sweets with my father, which was extraordinary. Until now, I haven't tasted Nareel sweets like the ones my parents used to make. They were delicious, and I don't know, they just perfected it. And of course, my mother was an amazing cook, everyone in the neighborhood used to say, "We want no cook but Um Abdulsamad, my mother." Her pickles were also amazing. Now, I might be good at making pickles, but I can't match my mother's level. It's impossible. She used to grind cactus, ginger, and all sorts of spices. Even now, I plan to share the recipes and spices I learned from my mother before I leave.

Wonderful, wonderfu" (Al-Mahmeed laughs)

Pickles from Bombay, Indian pickles, Sri Lankan pickles, Kuwaiti pickles, and there's a type of pickles named after my mother because she mastered it, it's called "Ummy Sultan's Pickles," named after my mother whose name is Sultana.

Ah.

Yes.

Sweet, alright. Besides the visits of your late mother to the neighbors, may she rest in peace, do you remember any specific interactions or the nature of the relationships between you and the neighbors? Maybe in the context of Al-Maghreb Street since you seem to remember it the most.

What did you mean?

Yes, I mean were there any specific relationships between you and the neighbors?

A lot.

Yeah.

A lot, I told you my mom was very friendly. Basically, when my mom wasn't around, the neighbors wouldn't go. I mean, my mom was loved by everyone, family, neighbors. In the Al-Shatti family's house, it was impossible for them to eat if my mom wasn't there. If they didn't show up, they would have some sort of excuse, like "Come on, lunch is ready!" Then they would say, "Okay, let's eat now. Hussein, it's not the same without her." So, there were very strong relationships, especially with the Al-Shatti family, and this other family, I forgot their father's name, we call him "Maryam's father." They call their mother "Maryam," and the Al-Owayid family, the Bousandi family, and the Al-Kandari family, and the Al-Shatti family who are behind us, the Mutawa family. There were many, of course. Even the Al-Samak family, Hamza Al-Samak, may he rest in peace, they had a very strong relationship with my mom. Everyone loved my mom; she was adorable. They used to call her "Shadia, the crowd's beloved." That's my mom.

(Al-Mahmeed laughs).

Yes.

How was your relationship with your brothers and sisters when you lived on Al-Maghreb street?

I'll tell you, it's a must, in our family, you know, things are always bustling at home. You must understand, with six daughters and six sons, everyone wants something or the other. Someone wants this, someone wants that, this is my toy, and that is mine. Everyone has their own preferences, but in the end, you'll find that we all love each other. We sympathize with each other. For example, sometimes I would let go of something, and sometimes my brother, Fuad Abdul Mohsen, was very affectionate, he spoiled us. Then there's Tariq, may he live long, my sisters. So, our relationship with each other as brothers and sisters was good, just normal, you know.

Okay, so you're telling me that you first went to Abdulmalek Al-Saleh Kindergarten.

Yes.

You stayed there for two weeks, and then you went to Hawally Coeducational School.

No, then I returned, we left Hawally and went to Al-Maghrib Street.

Ah.

Here I am, my father enrolled me in Hawally Coeducational School. The supervisor, if I remember correctly, was Ms. Salma Al-Khayri. She was strict, my father had a lot of respect for her. She wouldn't even say hello, she'd just give you a pat on the back. Honestly, they were all straightforward. I extend my greetings and love to the Palestinian people because they really taught us and disciplined us properly. They didn't have any tricks, they were strict and straightforward, but when we finished, I remember Ms. Salma Al-Khayri, the supervisor, Ms. Inshirah Al-Khayri, Ms. Muteeah Shakhshir, Ms. Amal Shakhshir, Ms. Suad Al-Safadi, and Ms. Hayam Al-Safadi. They were all from the West Bank, but honestly, they taught us well. Also, of course, there were teachers from the Egyptian community. We can't forget their kindness, it's impossible to forget or overlook it. They were our second mothers. I forgot some of them, but as soon as I remembered, I remembered Mrs. Raja. She was very elegant in her teaching with us. I loved a teacher named Mrs. Widad, she was all about art and music. I told you I loved art and music from the beginning, so Mrs. Widad was the music teacher. They took us on trips, even though they were strict, they were compassionate towards us. They taught us the right thing. For example, I remember once I came to school wearing pants under the school uniform skirt (laughs). Then Mrs. Salma Al-Khayri and Inshirah, her cousin's daughter, became aware of it. Ms. Inshirah was like, "Wow, look at you, so clever, what are you doing? Why are you wearing these pants?" I was thrilled, I was just being mischievous, they scolded me with a ruler.

(Al-Mahmeed laughs).

Again, don't wear pants underneath! When I got home, my father asked me about my feet. I didn't tell him, I said I fell. I was afraid to tell him. Then my mother said the teacher is strict, she's always scolding. She said she went to Mrs. Salma Al-Khayri, and she said, "Look, we need to raise our children properly. How can you allow your daughter to wear pants?" My father scolded me at that moment. He gave me a respectful lecture, he said she's right, why are you wearing pants? They didn't see me wearing pants or my pants sticking out, trying to look fancy in front of the girls. Kids, kids (laughs). There was strictness in schools, but when we grew up, now there are generations of computers and cheating, but we didn't have that. We were afraid, the strictness really taught us. The current generation, I don't see that now.

Alright, what I understand is that the reason you moved after two weeks from Abdulmalek Al-Saleh kindergarten is that you moved?

Yes.

Yes.

No, I used to sleep under the chairs, and the teachers would tell my father, "She is not accepted here because she was young." Apparently, I was younger at that time, so my father took me. After a while, we moved to Al-Maghreb Street, maybe when I was seven years old, when I joined Hawalli School.

Do you remember how old you were when you entered Abdulmalik Al-Saleh Nursery?

No I don’t remember.

Yes.

No.

So, in Hawally Coeducational School, do you remember what subjects you used to study?

Of course, back then with pen and Hamad has a pen, Hamad's pen, I don't know, these were the things, I mean, it wasn't the kind of studying I see now, I mean, it wasn't like that, for example, it wasn't like that at all. Oh my God, Oh my God, Oh bestower of prayers, make me happy today with many blessings, and make my heart joyful until the end, so those were the simple things, studying with a pen and paper with Hamad, paper with Ahmad, I don't know, these were the things, in addition to old stories, like "Bir Zuweila," "Layla and the Wolf," and "The Mighty Lion." These were the sweet stories, we used to play at home, me and my sisters sometimes. I would be the lion, and she, for example, would be the brave man, and so on. That was our life, simple things. Yeah, studying was nice.

Oh, sorry. When you were acting together, were you referring to the stories you used to read?

Yes sure.

And then you would act them out?

I still know a story, for example, "Bir Zuweila" - "Cuckoo, cuckoo, Bir Zuweila, cuckoo, cuckoo, if you eat it, cuckoo, cuckoo, you'll fall into the water." So, these were stories from Egyptian heritage, but they were widespread in Kuwait because the teachers and educators were Kuwaiti and Egyptian, so they would give us the story as if you were living it. I still remember all the stories, but there were stories that my grandmother used to tell me, but of course, she used to tell them in a way that was, you know, amusing. Like there was a story about a cockroach and a mouse getting married, and I would say, "It's not allowed," so the cockroach wanted to marry the mouse, and she said to him, "Brother, Auntie Joan, are you going to marry me?" I forgot the story now, it's not coming to mind, but they used to show that the person just wanted to get married and live and didn't care about wealth and status. This was my aunt, may she rest in peace, who later became my mother, Sakina. She used to tell me these stories. She lived with my aunt in Yazd, Iran, and she used to bring Iranian stories, and so on. We're originally from there anyway.

(Al-Mahmeed laughs).

Yes.

Strange, but when you said that when you used to read stories in school, you would act them out with your sisters.

Yes.

You would act them out with your sisters.

Yes.

Could you tell me more about how you used to act out these stories? What did you do?

Yes, for example, you have stories, like the story of the salt. It means there was a king who had, for example, four daughters. He would always sit by the window, looking out, while the girls played. One day, a woman, asked them, "How much do you love Father?" She said, "I love Father as much as the sea." The second said, "I love Father as much as the universe." The third said, "I love Father as much as the world." The fourth said, "I love Father as much as salt." So, her father kicked her out of the house, meaning she doesn't love me, he kicked her out. Days passed, and this and that happened. Of course, the girl was crying a king come and married her. So, she said, she started telling her father's story, the king's story to her husband. One day, the father's daughters left him. Of course, these are stories that have meaning. So, he went for a walk by the window where the girl used to stand. She saw her father and said to the servants, "Go bring him." They changed his clothes and stuff so he could eat with us. They brought out all the dishes, none of which had salt. For example, the meat had no salt. He started crying. She said to him, "why are you crying?" He said, "I remembered one of my daughters." They all used to say, "I love you this much." One of them said, "I love you as much as salt." So I kicked her out of the house because she, I mean, she put me with salt. Now I know she was right. So, she went to him, kissed him, and said, "I'm your daughter," and stuff. He said, "You're the only one who reached me." So, this obviously has many meanings. We were, of course, like, I was the queen, for example, my sister, for example, the father, or this and that, we represented them like kids, in our own way, and we put salt and brought a loving egg and ate it, and so on. That was our way. Any TV show or any specific thing, like a specific story or something at school, we would take it and do this and that. We used to pretend to be them, as girls.

What intrigued you as a child, for example in these stories, and what motivated you, or generally motivated you all, to take them and act them out?

The love for art has been ingrained in me until today. I find myself questioning why I didn't continue, why did I stop? There was a period where many things happened in the art scene, and despite all that, art still fascinates me. Even now, I find myself wishing the days would turn back so I could explore more and grow further. These are the things that intrigued me. For example, my sister used to act with me until she got tired and left. I would call out to them, "Come here, you play this role, and you play that role," as if I were the director. I love art. My father loves art too. He always enjoyed classical music and, I told you earlier I heard a Diwaniya-style singing once. I was at home and there was a Diwaniya happening nearby. I heard a voice, chanting sweetly, "Hai, Hai, Dalal," and they were playing the oud and echoing it. I memorized it, went to the window, I love listening, so, I have this art within me, but over time, everything ended (Laughs).

Sure, you told me that when you were starting school, if I'm not mistaken, your father initially wasn't in favor of you going to school. Can you tell me more about this situation?

No, not the school, the institute. The school was fine, it was the institute.

Oh okay.

The Institute of Fine Arts.

Yes.

They didn't agree. We tried and tried, but my uncles and brothers didn't want me to study art, not even art education. My father used to tell them that this study would pay off in the future. Of course, there were a lot of family issues, and I was a bit rebellious. So, I entered the field of art, but.

Yes.

I remember those days, there was Zaki Talimat, Abdulaziz Al-Mansour, his brother Mohammed Al-Mansour, and others. Also, Karam Mutaawaa and Professor Saeed Khattab. There was supposed to be an honoring ceremony, based on the condition that Zaki Talimat would leave Kuwait. In his final days, I caught up with Zaki Talimat. They used to do, as you say, a kind of artistic performance, and I would deliver the speech. It was under the patronage of who? Sheikh Jaber. It was before Sheikh Sabah Al-Ahmad. Sheikh Jaber was the Crown Prince at that time, and Sheikh Sabah Al-Salem, I believe, was before Sheikh Jaber. Then, after Sheikh Sabah Al-Ahmad, who took over? Sheikh Sabah Al-Salem, right? So, I came out to the stage to do rehearsals, imagine, we were doing a rehearsal to prepare for the event. Suddenly, I see my father coming with a gun in his hands (laughs). He told me to get off the stage. Imagine, later, Professor Ibrahim Ismail, Abdulaziz Al-Mansour, Karam Mutaawaa, they all grabbed my father and said, 'Father, this is not right,' as they were preparing for her graduation project as a director. How could she become a director if she did not act with the group? They convinced my father, but still, he was not convinced. He kicked me out of the institute, so I failed that year and had to retake the second round because he didn't let me go until all my siblings talked to him. They told him that I hadn't done anything wrong. Eventually, my father was convinced. I went back and completed my studies. It shows how stubborn I was. Then, I applied, Zaki Talimat liked me, and Sheikh Jaber applauded me. Yes, I continued.

Amazing

Yes.

Sure, but I'd like that when we reach the next period, to cover, for example, the institute where you studied and your studies in directing and such.

Yes sure.

But to go back to the previous stage.

Yes.

You told me about the type of games you used to play as children.

Yes.

And of course, visits of your mom and her neighbors, and you used to take stories and act them out with your siblings.

Yes.

Do you remember if you had any other hobbies? Or any ways you used to spend your time as children for fun?

)

When I was young, I had the same hobbies. I loved cooking. I mean, I'm not saying I was skilled, no. When I was little, for example, I would put some oil in a pan, crack an egg, and they would say, "Wow, she cooks it so well!" and I would eat it. Cooking was my hobby. Sewing was also a hobby. Sometimes my mom used to sew things, like kitchen towels or aprons, so I would grab some of them, cut them, and sew. I also had an artistic side. I would grab some clay, mold it into the shape of a head, then add arms and legs, and I would draw. I would draw eyes, a nose, and a mouth. This was the game. I mastered many games when I was young. My hobbies were sewing, cooking, and sometimes mischief (laughs).

(Al-Mahmeed laughs).

Sure I was.

Okay, regarding school, you told me about the teachers who are present in your memory and mentioned their names.

Yes yes.

Do you remember whether you formed certain relationships with your classmates?

Okay, almost. There was the Miss Sheikha, who I think is still holding a position, I believe she's the director for sports and so on. And there was someone named Shafiqa, not Mahmeed Al-Humaid. Also, there was a teacher I saw after a few years, Saud Al-Mutawa, and Rajaa Al-Owayid. Those are the ones I remember.

Okay, besides classrooms and the subjects you were studying, do you remember if there were any activities you used to do at school?

Yes, like I told you earlier, there were music activities where I used to participate a lot. I played the accordion and other instruments when I was young. Let me tell you more about it.

Yes yes.

When I was young, I loved art. Yes, indeed.

So, you mean you used to participate in these musical activities?

Of course, with Teacher Widad, I'll never forget her till now.

You used to play the accordion?

Yes accordion and piano.

Then I was also into gymnastics, by the way. Yes, I used to take first place. Now I can't even walk properly (laughs).

Interesting (Al-Mahmeed laughs). Alright, tell me more about gymnastics activity.

Do You know the vaulting table?

The pommel horse or something like that?

Yes, like the vaulting horse. I used to play with it at home, and even my dad used to tease me, saying, "No, these games are not suitable." My parents told me you’re not allowed to play this anymore. They thought these games were dangerous. I used to participate in celebrations and events, always carrying the flag. I even participated in sports events, maybe even before Saif Alarab or after, I'm not sure. Sheikha Nayima, the sister of Sabah Al-Ahmad, organized an event where Faiza Rafsanjani, Amal Al-Sabah, and a large group of Qatari women attended. They organized an event for us where we wore sports attire and walked from Sabah Al-Ahmad's house to Showbiz.

What year was that?

This was before approximately, I don't remember if it was before the Saif Al Arab or after, meaning before the theatrical performance or after the theatrical performance.

Wonderful.

Yes.

Sure, is there any addition you'd like to add regarding the Coeducational Hawalli School?

I enjoyed Hawalli Co-Educational School a lot, they were strict with me because I was mischievous (laughs). Then they started liking me because, although mischievous, I was smart. I was good at memorization, especially in religious studies. In religion class, I remember once during the religion lesson, I was sitting and there was another girl sitting next to me, mischievous and lazy. So, I and her were chatting with the teacher. The religion teacher was Mrs. Raja, an Egyptian lady, but she was sweet and strict. She said to me, 'Hey, Ruqaya.' I said to her, 'Yes, ma'am.' Give her the pen because she was bothering me, and I was clever. She took the pen and gave it to her. She told me to come closer; I went to her, and she gave me a slap. She said to me, 'That's the pen, not this.'"

Ohhh.

Sure (laughs). So, I thought she meant for me to give her a pen, so I gave her a pen- "give her pain" as in, I give her a pen and let her feel the pain, or give her pain as in hit her with it.

Yes.

Why, I mean, why do you act up? Why don't you just focus while I'm smart, you know? Wow, you're such a memorizer. I mean, you were amazing, like you give me the verse today, and after an hour, I'd have memorized it. Yep.

Okay, when you say you were mischievous, what do you mean?

It means that when I used to go out to the courtyard, I would tease the other girls, pull their hair, and they would sometimes chase me. The teachers would scold me and pull my hair too. I mean, I used to tease them, not at the beginning though. At first, I was very shy. Later, when I went to middle school and so on, I started to stand up for myself (laughs) yes.

Okay, you mentioned to me that there is Hawalli Co-Educational School, right? That you remember the teachers, especially the Palestinians, and that you have great appreciation towards them.

A lot.

Yes, do you remember if there was any social interaction outside of school, for example with the Palestinian community?

Honestly, to this day, I still cherish it. I mean, I have a friend from the Al-Aqeeli family, she's Jordanian-Palestinian, her family is from Jaffa and Haifa, etc. Also, I had Mr. Hamed Al-Atham, who was a general manager in the Ministry of Education. He used to work with me, along with Khaled Al-Harban and a group of us. I had good relationships with most of them. Hayam, Miss Hayam, and a lovely group, honestly, they were very understanding. They taught us the principles of cooking, Palestinian cooking methods, tabbouleh, fattoush, I don't know, chicken dishes, and more. I learned a lot from them, really. I mean, I'm not ungrateful. I remember this, even the Egyptians, even my Egyptian sisters, Miss Raja, Ehsan, and many others, I mean, maybe now my memory betrays me.

Oh, I see. I mean, in your daily life outside of school, was there any kind of interaction, visits, or engagement, for example?

With teachers?

With the Palestinians who were living in Kuwait.

Yes, yes, yes, there were Mrs. Mutiaa Al-Shakhshir was considered the pinnacle of teaching, and she was one of the first teachers to teach at the Hawalli Coeducational and Intermediate School. Her daughter, H, she devoted her life to her siblings. Her father and mother passed away when she was young, so she dedicated her life to them. Ismat and Lamis were my friends, especially Lamis. Ismat was our teacher, mine and Lamis'. We were in the same class together. Sometimes they would invite us over to their house, etc., this is the Al-Aqeeli house, and then the house of A. And by God, Abu Khadra, yes, Abu Khadra, Abu Al-Azim, yes, they are very dear to me. I still visit them in Hawalli, and sometimes they invite me over and cook Mansaf for me. I love Mansaf. Yes.

Wonderful.

Yes.

Yes, okay, do you have anything else you want to add about this Hawalli Coeducational School?

)

Honestly, I really miss my headmistress because she was with me from elementary to middle school, so I miss her. I also miss Ms. Muti'a, and I miss Hayam and many others like Sabaawy Suad Al-Sabaawy, and Raja' Inshirah al-Khayri. She was excellent in teaching mathematics. Of course, I always remember them. Amal Shakhshir, Asma Shakhshir, and a group of others, like Zuleikha, used to beat me (laughs).

(Al-Mahmeed laughs).

So, I never forget them. They always, maybe through our interactions when we were young, they gave us a kind of education that really cemented our understanding. They really left a lasting impression in our minds. To the extent that even after about fifty years or so, for example, or fifty-five years, I don't know, until now, I still remember them and their names. You haven't eaten or drunk at all.

No, I'm just having something to drink, honestly. Oh, I'll eat in a bit. (Al-Mahmeed laughs) But when you say 'Hawalli Coeducational School,' coeducationale, does that mean it was.

Elementary and middle school. I was in elementary and continued to middle school with them.

For how many years did you stay in this school?

About 8 years.

Thank you.

اHe didn’t drink his juice yet you bring the coffee.

(Al-Mahmeed laughs).

Come on, so that you lift your mood, please.

Yes, since you're insisting. Well, was there, for example, a clear distinction between, let's say, the nature of elementary school education and the nature of middle school education in this school?

Yes, definitely. For example, our school was divided into two sections: one section for elementary school, and then, it evolved into the middle school section. The middle school section was parallel to the Hawally Intermediate Boys' School, which is now Hawalli Park. This was a school for boys. Of course, there were teachers, and there was even a principal assigned specifically for the elementary section. Yes. There must be, of course, a separation between the middle and elementary sections. We were children, and then we grew up, everything changed. The situation changed, the education changed, everything changed.

What kind of changes occurred?

It means, for example, that I was in elementary school, pencil, Hamad, I don't know, there we went to, a significant study of Quranic reading here in elementary school. Say, "He is Allah, one" and when the victory of Allah comes, there is a big verse that we take, and also, from a psychological perspective, it means our psyche, our lives, I mean, we felt when we were young, and then we grew up, um, and as we grew up, everything changed. There was pressure, there was, I mean, tension with us, different from elementary school, less, yes.

When you say your psyches changed when you entered middle school, what do you mean by this?

I mean because they used to be very strict with us in middle school (laughs). Not in elementary school, no. The problem wasn't there. The problem was that they used to hit us, reprimand us, and it felt like they were suffocating us, and when they brought our parents, our parents would hit us even more, so we kept quiet. Whatever they did to us, we kept quiet, we didn't say anything. And it was their right because we were all. I mean, honestly, there are Kuwaitis now who say no, it wasn't us, it wasn't us, I mean, all Kuwaitis, I put them on my head and my country, but we don't deny that their way of studying and their way of teaching us, we are the ones who actually produced generations. Now, our generation is better than the generation now. What about now? They're lost and realistic, like influencers, for example. Each one comes out making money easily, but we used to work hard to get something for ourselves. A quarter dinar, my father used to give me a quarter dinar or a few fils, it's like he's giving me a thousand dinars. Now, these kids, you give them two dinars, five dinars, and they have nothing. What is this? Seriously, I tell you, these generations, honestly, I say these generations, this generation that I know, studying life, strictness, strength, better than the generation now.

And do you feel that this you took from school?

Sure, I mean, I'm not saying that parents don't have a role at home, they feed you, dress you, take care of you, make you beautiful, give you things, I mean, for example, they tell you not to do this, not to go there, not to come here, right, but school, school, school teaches certain things, in certain arrangements, it's the one that teaches, it's the one that guides, and it's the one that shapes generations. But at home, what? It's something known, don't do this, Mom, eat this, put this, don't put that, normal things every parent says to their children, but school is different, the school is different, um, um, they say that I remember that the teacher almost stood up for the teacher, I don't know what the teacher almost stood up for, like, God forgive me, it's not like God or the Prophet because really, I mean, really, we don't deny this, I have a lot of examples, but I forget them at the moment, I don't know why.

(Al-Mahmeed laughs) Okay, can you tell me, for example, the nature of the school day that you used to have at school?

Yes, see, first, I mean, honestly, something unusual, we used to go and have breakfast at school, this smell, something unnatural, and an apple and lentil soup, I can't forget that, we used to get excited when they brought us biscuits, like the ones with nuts or I don't know what, for example, juice, and also with it, fruit or an egg, that was breakfast. At first, they used to let us sleep at school, they provided beds for us, we used to wake up around noon, they let us sleep until two or three, they fed us, we washed, and then we played a little until four when our parents came to pick us up, or how we used to go home, I don't remember exactly, they used to provide us with lunch, for example, a delicious meat broth. So, really, things we didn't taste before, so we had something, you know, high, that was our sweet life, honestly, the days of kindergarten and middle school, we had a lot of sweet memories in them.

You sometimes say "kindergarten" referring to the same school, do you mean kindergarten?

No, I mean elementary and middle school.

Yes.

Yes.

Okay.

Kindergarten, no, I didn't enjoy it much because I used to cry all the time and didn't want to go. I wanted to stay with my mom, be pampered by her, eat, drink, and play in the yard. Mischievousness (recording interruption) and Adelah Al-Ajeel was the headmistress..

Is this the picture?

Ummm.

And you?

Took first place.

Which one is you?

I'm the fat one here, I used to be so fat.

The one to the right?

The one wearing orange yes.

I started the recording, you know.

Don’t worry.

Yes.

And let's leave that now, let's talk about something else, what do you say we talk about the story I mentioned?

Yes tell me.

The story, of course, or the one my aunt used to tell, the story of Aunt Sous, I mean, Aunt Sous the Cockroach.

[Al-Mahmeed laughs].

She used to tell, she was bothered that Aunt Sous, who was the cockroach, was looking for a husband. She met several ones but didn't like any of them. Finally, she met the mouse. Whenever he saw her, he would say, "Aunt Sous, if you become my wife, you'll have to behave properly. If you don't, what will you do?" He said to her (in Persian), meaning, "I will hit you with my smooth, light tail."

[Al-Mahmeed laughs].

She said, "I'll marry you." These are old stories, like what our grandmothers used to tell us. There were many stories, of course, because I used to spend a lot of time with my mother and my aunt. Even Cinderella's story, of course, they used to tell it in a different way, but it was the same. There was a stepmother who mistreated her stepdaughter, and she had a daughter of her own and her own daughter. She would make her go out in the dust and wind, and she would sit there sewing, and she didn't get anything until the end. One time, there was a lady who said, "I'm dying of hunger, will you give me some of your food?" So, she got her food and gave her some, this poor lady. Then the poor lady did something that made her become a queen. The stepmother said, "How can this one become a queen? It must be my daughter." She told her daughter, "Take the things and so on and go sit in the same place." So, she went and sat in the same place as the old lady. The old lady said to her, "I'm dying of hunger, will you give me some food?" She said to her, "No, I won't give you anything. I don't know what to give you, so I won't give you anything to eat." So, anyway, she turned her into a monkey. (laughs) These are the stories that our grandparents used to tell us.

Amazing. Okay, if we go back to this stage, elementary and middle school at the joint school in Hawally.

Yes.

During this whole period, you were still living in your house on Maghrib Street, right?

Yes.

إيه، اا تذكرين ليYeah, do you remember until which year you were living in this house?

(Long silence) Approximately to the sixties or maybe '65, around there, because then, I don't know, around '65, '70 in the seventies, then my brother took the house. He sold the house, and they moved to Salwa.

When you moved out of this house, were you still in school?

The one on Al-Maghreb Street? No, they moved me out, then I got married and continued my studies.

Ah.

Yes.

So, were you, after that, after the joint Hawally school.

إيه

Yes.

Did you enter high school?

I completed high school, remember, the system, the four-year system, the Syrian one.

No I don’t know it.

Yes, I entered the four-year system and obtained the certificate. It let me enroll in the Higher Institute of Dramatic Arts.

What was the nature of your studies under this system?

I used to study at home. The one who helped me was my sister’s husband, Abdulaziz, who is my sister Sinaa’s husbund, Ibtihal’s father.

Ah.

Ibtihal’s father, yeah, and, for example, some of my friends used to help me with studying, meaning I could, I mean, I could reach what I wanted quickly, but I didn't persist in anything.

So this was a home study?

No, I used to go every year to study. There were teachers like my sister’s husband and such. I used to study, then afterward, I would go, take an exam, and come back. Take an exam, come back. Listen, at first, there was a school called Al-Katholikiyah [Catholic School] or something of that sort. Then, of course, they told me no, it wouldn't work because it's a Catholic school. So, I went to another high school, like Al-Asma'eiyya or something like that, in Syria. I completed my studies, got the certificate, came to Kuwait, applied to the institute, but they wouldn't accept you into any institute unless you had a high school diploma.

Well, why did you study under that system? Why didn't you, for example, attend a regular high school in Kuwait?

Here in Kuwait, after that, I got married, so it was difficult for me to go back and forth. And then, I mean, my husband used to tell me to go study, he wouldn't object, so I would go. I was always eager to study abroad. I studied in Egypt and pursued various studies. I even studied with Al-Ajiri, I studied astronomy with Abdul Fattah Al-Tukhi. I studied many things. I'll tell you, I loved studies. So, I used to study a lot, I excelled in Syria.

How old were you when you got married?

11 years old.

Really?

"

I was studying, and even the supervisor used to tell my father, 'It's a shame on you, she needs someone to raise her. How will she get married?' They got me married. I'll tell you, the customs and traditions and all that were a bit difficult, but also my husband, bu Yusuf, encouraged me to continue studying. Even in the institute, when I used to go, I was pregnant with Yusuf, and I used to go to the institute to take exams, and he would tell me to study, as long as I loved it. He himself was a graduate of Ain Shams University in Cairo, so he loved studying. He didn't object to me continuing my education.

Can you tell me more about how you got married at this young age? Maybe there was something different back then, like not available now or not the same as it used to be.

We got married (laughs) in a traditional marriage, we are cousins.

Mmm.

Do you remember at that time if you had a desire to marry at that age?

Mmmm I don’t think so.

Yeah, do you remember if you had a wedding ceremony, for example?

See, there are things, I mean, I don't, I mean, I don't like to mention them.

I understand.

Yeah, it's a bit difficult.

Oh, no problem. Um, do you remember what year that was?

My marriage with Bo Yousef, um, it means, during my graduation from the institute, so it was around nineteen seventy-six, seventy-seven, approximately.

Ummm.

Hmm, this is a bit I remember, because Youssef was born in seventy-seven, so okay (laughs).

Oh, oh, oh, okay, you told me that when you got married, you were still studying or about to enter high school or something like that.

How come when you got married, you were still a student?

Yes I was a student.

Yes.

Even I was studying in the higher institute.

Yes.

All of it was studying.

Yes yes.

Yes.

Okay, you told me that you were doing this Syrian system, which means it's equivalent to high school diploma.

Approximately, yes.

Yeah, and you also told me that you went to Syria to study.

I went to Syria and Egypt.

Those.

I studied in different places.

Yeah, what were these, high school or what?

High school, General Education, four-year system, well-known, three-year system, it's like you took it for four years. You take exams periodically, not all at once, like every three months I go and take the exam, then retake it, take the exam again, and after that, if I pass, they give me the certificate. If I fail, I’m done (laughs).

(Al-Mahmeed laughs) So, you weren't living in Syria or Egypt when you were studying?

No, no, I used to go regularly. I would go for my studies in several places, not just high school. I studied astronomy as well, with Abdul Fattah Al-Tukhi, the astronomer, and with Al-Ajiri, may God have mercy on him, who was a friend of my husband's. They used to come to our house to teach me. I was traveling to pursue this, and when I went to Syria, I continued studying. I was also learning with Maryam Noor, about micro biotics, natural medicine, organic food, and so on. I loved studying, and my husband used to say, "Why not?" as I continued.

Sure. Well, can you tell me more about your trips to Syria and Egypt? What was the nature of your visits there, and how long did you stay?

No, I used to stay, like for example, in Egypt, I used to stay a lot because there were many things I used to do there. I was involved in many activities, such as studying, and many other things, like astronomy and many other things. (Laughs) I was a jack-of-all-trades. Anyway, I didn't leave anything that I didn't study in Egypt. In Syria as well, I used to study astrology, astronomy, and things like that, in addition to the general high school diploma. I took it, as I told you, we went to the Thoth's Academy. Oh, I forgot its name.

Orthodoxy?

Yes, it's related to the Christian denomination. I studied there for almost the entire four-year system. I studied it within a year. They said no, it's not acceptable, so you have to complete it. It's the secondary education, what's its name? I just mentioned it, but I forgot.

Orthodoxy?

No, another one.

Catholic?

Oh no, it's not the Arabic Catholic one. Oh God, I forgot, blessings upon the Prophet. Anyway, I mean I completed it in this one. It was supposed to be one year, but I took it in two years because I transferred from the Orthodox to the one, I just mentioned, I forgot its name. (Al-Koot laughs).

It's like you said, the Syrian system.

The Syrian system? But what's the name of the high school? I forgot, I just told you. Osama, yes, Osama.

Umm.

Ummm.

Alright, what motivated you to add studying with Maryam Noor and Saleh Al-Ajiri while you were in high school?

I told you, I love everything, even Saleh Al-Ajiri, I was really fascinated by astronomy and meteorology, and stuff like that. He even taught me spirituality and such, but I didn't really practice it much because I was a bit cowardly, afraid to dream at night and stuff. So, I didn't like it. He was a very good friend of my husband, because my husband was the head of the palace affairs department and held the position of the expert's management, an expert, and stuff. He used to go to him all the time; I don't know why, he probably inherited something, I'm not sure. So, he used to bring him to my house, and we would sit and chat; he would teach me, tell me to do this and that. He would say, "If you want to go, the children of Abdel Fattah El-Tokhi, the astronomer in Egypt, are talented." So, I started going there, and I had one, his name was Mohammed Al-Arseifi. I went to study with him; he was so smart that he asked me, "Do you know how much money you have in your purse?" I said, "How much?" He said, "I don't know, how much is it? Syrian?" I said, "No." He said, "Look at your purse, take it out; is it really Syrian?" So, I liked to study with him because he really taught me the science. I even had the ability to work in meteorology, but after we grew up, there was no opportunity. So, I loved studying; I really loved discovering what this science is, what spirituality is, and stuff like that. I even wanted to go to America at some point because I was so in love with Arsène Lupin's movies and Dracula. My husband and I always watched Dracula; he always brought me Dracula. I started to get really into it; now, I have grandchildren and my daughter's son is here. He tells me he wants to watch Dracula and Arsène Lupin movies. You know how it is. So, I was deeply into it. Then, of course, I started to turn to other directions - children, home, grandchildren, etc. That's it.

When you said that Saleh Al-Ujairi, may God have mercy on him, was trying to teach you spirituality, what did you mean?

No (laughs), I mean, spiritually, first, he used to advise me, telling me not to think that this, for example, involves magic and sorcery. We don't want this kind of study because it could ruin things or do things that are not good. And I encountered things he used to talk about, he used to talk about spirituality, like doing certain things, reciting the Quran in a certain way, so it led me to increase my religiousness. I mean, I'm not saying I'm an atheist or not religious, no, I'm normal. My husband is very religious, on the contrary, I learned from him and learned from Al-Ajiri, so I enjoyed seeing it rather than studying it. I didn't work or practice this, no, it was enjoyment. I mean, I liked sitting, for example, when he would say something, for example, he would talk about spirituality in this way, like reciting this verse, maybe our Lord will give us this, I liked it, and at the same time, he taught me astronomy, how the sun revolves, how, when the weather can change, these things. But I got tired of it because it requires someone who has studied physiognomy and spirituality so that he can practice this, so I couldn't continue. I went to Egypt, and Egypt, after all, was harder and more tiring. So, I didn't complete it, but I read, I studied, I understood things about life from these things.

Can you give me more detailed examples of the nature of the spiritual practices he used to engage in and was knowledgeable about?

(Al-Kout laughs) Well, umm, I forgot about it, to be honest, because I didn't really practice it. I remember once he gave me, for example, a spiritual verse, a Quranic verse, asking me to recite it, saying something like, "Read this verse today and maybe something will come to you." Indeed, we sat together and recited rituals, Quranic recitations, I don't know, hadiths, things like that. On the same day, something happened. So, it's more about the enjoyment of doing it, you know? Like, if you want to engage in this, you enjoy it. For example, I enjoy sitting with him. It's like a hobby for you, but it's not like you're actively practicing it, so I didn't give it much importance.

Alright, ma’am, the last thing we were talking about when we stopped recording was that you were studying with Maryam Noor and Saleh Al-Ajiri, may he rest in peace.

I studied nutrition and natural dietetics, and Maryam Noor, who was my friend, visited me in Kuwait. I learned a bit of yoga from her, but (laughs) honestly, I couldn't keep up with it. So, all these things I was studying were just hobbies. I love to learn, I love to study everything, I love to engage in everything, but eventually, you know, I couldn't keep up with it all.

Can you tell me what type of yoga you used to practice?

My chick chick chikora shakora don’t know what its named.

Chakra.

Chakra I forgot them, honestly. I used to sit quietly, imagining. Maryam Noor used to give us imaginations, imagine that I don't know, all things were imaginations. (Al-Koot laughs) I forgot because it was a long time agoo."

Do you remember in which year this was?"

This is from a long time ago, back when I was studying at the Higher Institute of Arts. I used to go and spend time with her. For example, during a two or three-week break, she used to stay in a mountain called Jebel Ma'ad in Lebanon. There, they practiced medicine, and she used to read things to us like "Say this, say that" I can't remember the exact words. Sometimes someone would faint, and that kind of scared me a bit. Then, I joined with Allah's mercy, umm, I forgot her name, Wajeeha Al-Habib, she was the principal of the American schools. They did the same thing at night, practicing and eating, but eating meat was forbidden to the extent that I stopped liking meat, spinach, and okra. So, they were the same. I got some ideas and things from them, and we had Al-Sanoosi and Rida Al-Feeli, I think, as part of the group. So, I got involved in a lot of things, but I didn't actually practice them, it was more like a hobby. Today, I might be interested in one thing, and tomorrow, something else happens.

Yeah, but, you know, especially with these kinds of practices, maybe now they're available, but back then, they weren't widely known.

It wasn't readily available, I mean, when you say, for example, I remember once Wajeeha Al-Habib said to me, "Let's go, let's all go to this chalet as a group to perform rituals and stuff." So, I felt a kind of apprehension, and I thought, "If the family finds out and they sit down, like, as they analyze it," they were discussing things a lot, so I didn't go. I hesitated. Now it's normal, though.

Yeah, but what was your entry point into these things back then?

We used to go to Wajeeha, who had a place set up beneath the basement. Basically, everything was vegetarian, no meat, fish, or eggs. Even cakes and pancakes were made without eggs. This was the beginning. I really liked the way of eating because it was light, without heaviness or such. So, we used to sit there in a group like I mentioned before, with Sanaousi and Reda El Feely, a group, and we would contemplate, then there was music, and she would say things like, "Now let this energy flow through your body," or something like that. I don't know why, but honestly, I used to mock it, because I never believed her when she said, "Nothing will enter or leave your body." Then I didn't continue. Just a few days ago, her daughter Ghayda was talking to me: she's now overseeing the American schools.

Amazing.

Hmm, her son Fahad, I remember, because he liked me a lot, he went on to study film directing. Now he's in America.

Amazing, do you remember which year or at least which decade this was?

Roughly, I can tell you that Yusuf was, it was about thirty-five, thirty years ago, approximately.

Hmm, okay. We've covered almost all stages of your life, from birth to, um, middle school and a bit of high school.

Yes.

Hmm, do you have any additional details you'd like to add about the periods we've covered? Things we haven't discussed yet.

You've covered it comprehensively, of course. I don't think there's anything else to add.

Yes.

Except maybe the stage that's now.

Yes yes.

My artistic works and my entry into theater and so on.

True.

Perhaps.

Okay, ma’am, why don't we stop recording for today, and tomorrow's session we'll discuss the artistic works.

Okay, then, it's settled.

I mean your enrollment in the institute and all that.

Yes yes no problem.

Yes.

As you want.

Yes yes.

Okay.

Okay I’ll stop recording.

Alright, let's start recording. I'm Abdulaziz Al-Mahmeed, and today we're recording the second session with Mrs, Roqaya Al-Kout. We're currently at her house located in the Salwa area. Today is Monday, October 10th, 2022, and the time now is ten forty-five in the morning. Mrs, can you please give me permission to record the interview?

Yes sure.

Thank you.

Most welcome.

Thank you bless you.

Bless you.

Thank you.

Dear go ahead.

last time we covered maybe the first half of your life. We talked about your childhood in Sharq.

True.

Maybe you didn't have the memory back then, but later we talked about your transition to Al-Hawalli Integrated School, your primary and intermediate schooling. We also discussed how you completed your high school education following the Syrian system, where you studied at home and took exams there in Syria.

Yes true.

Before we move on to the next stages, is there any additional information you'd like to add to the previous stage? Anything we might have forgotten to discuss?

Alright, so before we move on to the next stages, I want to add some details about my childhood. We used to live in the Hawally area, then we moved directly to Al-Maghreb Street, where we are currently located. My childhood was filled with the Al-Shatti, Al-Awad, Al-Kanadra families, and others. We used to play together, and when the expressway was built, we used to gather in an area they called "Al-Matina," I think it was something like that. My brothers and the neighborhood boys used to set up traps to catch birds, while us girls played games like "hide and seek" or "tag” or Amakoor fell into the oven, it was really something! One of the Al-Shatti girls used to supervise everything, and the boys would catch birds. I remember she threw my cage and the bird inside. I can't recall the exact names of the birds. When we returned home, they would clean and cook the birds and share them with us. Those were some memories from my childhood. Our neighbors were very kind and peaceful, may God have mercy on them. I'm still in touch with some of the neighbors. So, that's pretty much my childhood, spent on Al-Maghreb Street with our neighbors, especially the first ones, the Mutawaa family. I'm not sure if any of them are still alive, but may God have mercy on them whether they're alive or passed away. That's my life, essentially, my early childhood. Now, we can start talking about my school days or my artistic endeavors, whatever you prefer.

Thank you. But before we move on to the next stages, the last time you mentioned something caught my attention that I want to ask you about.

Go ahead.

Ah, maybe when we were talking about birthdates and there wasn't any recording and documentation at that time.

Yes.

Ah, you mentioned a poet named Abdin who used to record birthdates.

Yes.

In his poetry.

He used to record birthdates either in his poems or in his own calculations. How exactly the late Al-Ajiri used to determine or record these dates, I don't have expertise in such calculations and affairs. Throughout my life, I've always been passionate about art, singing, and similar activities from the beginning, so I can't tell you exactly how Al-Ajiri used to record or write down our dates. But I have an elder sibling who has a poem about their birthdate, composed by my father. Maybe it's in there that his birthdate is mentioned. I'm not sure about the specifics, but according to what my late mother said, my older brother, Abdulsamad Al-Kout, was born in our house, and I think it was a boy and a girl, or maybe just a boy. I don't remember exactly, but according to what my mother said, may she rest in peace, it's not clear to me. If I were to tell you my birthdate, it would be like I'm guessing, and I don't like that. So, whether it's 1951 or 1952, I'm not sure, but overall, that's what I've seen in my birth records.

Oh, okay, there's another thing I remembered that I want to ask you about. You mentioned that when the women used to gather, they used to read the faal.

Yes.

Can you tell me more about this?

So I made a play called "The Fortune Teller". Well, this play was inspired by the past when women used to gather together. You see, back then, women didn't have the same freedom as they do now. They couldn't just say whatever they wanted without consequences. So, from that perspective, I was really intrigued by this concept. But when I was with the girls, we used to play, and I would pretend to be a fortune teller for them, using a cup or whatever we had as a prop, because back in the old days, there were no cups, only the wadaa.

What is meant by wadaa.

The "wada’a" refers to certain items or symbols typically found by the sea, such as shells, coral, and green stones, among other specific items. They would gather a variety of these items, and it seems they would label them with names or assign meanings to them. For example, they might say, "This shell represents this," or "This stone represents that." So, when someone would come to take the "wada’a," they would pick it up and interpret it. It could be seen as a form of intelligence or intuition, as if they were associating individuals with specific items or symbols, perhaps predicting certain outcomes. This was a practice that intrigued me because I often saw women eagerly participating in it. I remember when we were young children, before our house on Al-Maghreb Street, there were neighbors, like the Mutawaa family or others, who used to come and sit with a woman named Hayama. I don't remember her exact name, but she used to sit comfortably, and even though she spoke with an Iraqi dialect, she would interact with them, asking about their day or whatever. I enjoyed listening to them, but they would often tease me and not let me get involved in these matters because as children, they didn't want us to know everything. So, they called this practice "wada’a," and when they were engaging in it, they would say things like, "wada’a,'" and they would interpret it. This aspect inspired me to create the play (Qariat Al Finjan). In the play, I connected the past to the present, showing how the enthusiasm women had for “Wada’a” had transformed into practices like reading coffee cups, or even more modern things like Tarot readings. It's a way of playing with women's minds, and although I personally don't believe in it, when someone offers me a cup of coffee and says, "Let's see what your cup says," I'm not a believer, but out of curiosity to see what they'll say, I indulge in it. So, in the end, I'm the one laughing, not them. (Al-Kout laughs).

It means that there weren't any readings that came true when they were alive, for example.

It means that even if the fortune-tellers were telling the truth, sometimes, for instance, I remember once when we were at our house in Hawalli, we were going to the salon for some reason, we used to go there and drink coffee even though we were young, they would give us some. I drank the coffee without realizing it and turned the cup upside down. There was a lady sitting next to me who said, "Do you know about cup reading?" Honestly, I didn't know, but as you say, it was a kind of joke. I said, "Yes," and turned her cup, pretending to understand, and she said, "You're traveling." I said, "Yes, I understood that." Then I told her random things like "there's a camel and I don't know what else," I don't remember exactly, and she said, "Everything you told me is true." But I knew it was all nonsense. Maybe today I could tell you, "Abdulaziz, yesterday you were going to 360," or "you were going somewhere," and you'd say, "How did you know?" It's a kind of guess or intuition, but it's impossible to be true. Fortune-tellers lie even if they tell the truth, and I could never believe them.

Okay, before we move on to the next stage, I have a question because last time you mentioned that you were involved in theatrical activities at school.

Yes.

can you tell me about your involvement in theater activities during your school days?

Well, when we were at Hawally Integrated School, we had a teacher named Miss Widad, who was Egyptian. She was so kind and lovely that she made us love music, acting, and such activities. We used to play, for example, the national anthem on the flute when we appeared on stage. I had a mischievous side, you see, I liked to get involved, like that. So, the teachers and supervisors enjoyed my enthusiasm, they included me in music, gymnastics, and drama. Drama, for example, we used to stand in the courtyard, and when the bell rang and we didn't know what to do, we'd start singing, "The bell is ringing, hear it, it has a beautiful sound, it's like this and like that." So, these things, as she says, were the beginning of my entry into the arts. But traditions and customs, may my uncle Abbas rest in peace, he used to say, "As soon as the girl reaches ten or eight years old, you have to make her wear the abaya." So, there was difficulty, difficulty in the girl, me, honestly, even now, all the way back in school, I remember teachers like Zaki Taleimat, Saeed Khatab, Karam Mutaawe', Tareq Abdul Latif, and the rest. Of course, there were actors among them, like Karam Mutaawe', Ismat Mahmoud, and Abdul Latif, who were the main actors. Zaki Taleimat, may God have mercy on him, needs no introduction. So, honestly, they always encouraged me, telling me, "You will become a great artist, an actress." Honestly, in acting, I had something extraordinary, but I couldn't, I got into directing against my will because my father, I remember during rehearsals, my father would come and watch from a distance, saying to Mr. Muhammad, or whatever his name was, I forgot his name, may God bless him, but anyway, he would say to the teachers, whether it was Saeed Khatab or Abdul Latif, any of the artists, he would say to them, "Ruqaya acts, she'll appear on TV, she'll appear like this." I remember, Mansour Al-Mansour, and others came with him, they saw me acting and said, "I have a series or a play, Ruqaya is an artist, let's take her and Huda Hussein's sister..." No, not Huda Hussein, it was Ebtisam Hussein, and we were chosen to do a play “on top of the palm trees”.

Which year was this?

So, it was around the seventies, maybe '75 or '76, no, not '78, '71 or '72, around that time, but I'm not exactly sure of the date. Let me check and I'll tell you. So, we went on stage, me and the others. Every day we had rehearsals, nobody knew. We were on stage, and I was wearing, I don't remember what it was called, something on my head, pretending to carry dates and such. I was with Ibtesam, singing, or was it my dad? (laughs) Suddenly, my dad entered from the theater door. When he saw me, he got angry, "Why did you enter the stage?" he said. I replied, "Just studying, we're just learning." But Mansour got upset, "Why did she enter the stage?" They made me sit on the side, saying, "No, she won't perform, it's just rehearsals." And indeed, I didn't go to the institute for a week. But this was Ibrahim Ismail, I remember now, he was the director of the theater at the time. Anyway, after that, Mansour returned, and of course, they pulled me out. I don't remember who replaced me, but I forgot, you know. So, we were still kids, just starting in the art field. These were my beginnings. Of course, I always imagined myself as an actress, acting various roles, you know. But things don't always go as planned, life takes unexpected turns. So, I entered the field, not just as an actress, but also in directing, scriptwriting, and so on. But because I loved theater so much, I specialized in children's theater. My beginnings were with my first work before entering the profession. After I graduated and completed my studies in Egypt, specializing in children's theater, I returned. But there was resistance from the family as a whole, I couldn't do it. So, my first work was at the Ministry of Education, where I was a supervisor in the school activity department, and then I was promoted to be a supervisor. Of course, I faced a lot of injustice in this field, a lot of problems. Those were the days when I talked to the newspapers and such. I don't want to remember this because I didn't get what I deserved. I was supposed to get. I was deeply involved in the theater field, visiting schools all over Kuwait. I was active in this field. I did a lot of artistic works, TV series, plays, many of them, both in the field and in my specialization, which was managing school activities. Then, when we moved to the Hawally area, of course, I did, I did an operetta, "Journey of Peace." Those were my days, before the invasion, about a month before the invasion. I had just graduated, but I wasn't practicing until I sat, from the seventies until about '75 or '76, almost '77, '76, '77, almost in the eighties, we graduated, almost, just to be a little, you know, we're after Alzheimer's, we've grown up (laughs).

Can I interrupt you.

Yes.

Sure, because you mentioned certain milestones, I'd like to delve into them a bit more.

Yes sure.

Do you remember in which year you entered the Higher Institute of Dramatic Arts?

I entered the theater studies institute, which I entered in the year two thousand and something, maybe in the seventies, seventy, or seventy-one. Then after graduating from the institute, I went to Cairo. After a while, I returned to Kuwait, worked in the Ministry of Education, first as a supervisor. I used to go to schools to supervise events and such. I mean, maybe half of the schools in Kuwait know me, the majority, I can tell you, the majority know me. I used to go to kindergarten, primary, intermediate, and high schools. So here, I completed and stopped and returned.

Oh, alright. Is this the theater studies institute where the professors you mentioned were?

Yes sure.

Yeah, how many years was the duration of the study?

Four.

Four years.

Yes true.

Yeah, can you tell me about your experience at this institute?

So even Ibrahim Al-Harbi, Masafir Abdul Karim, and Hamidi Al-Mashan were there. These were, of course, two [who left], but before me, there were others. I believe it was Saad Hussein, Saad Abdullah, and Al-Durman, and others. When we arrived, they said these were the ones who graduated, these were the important ones. I want to remember them exactly, but I heard them say, 'Before you, there were Ibrahim Al-Harbi, no, Ibrahim Al-Harbi continued with us and then went on to the higher institute, Masafir Abdul Karim was with me, so they were with us, the same professors I told you were with me at the theater studies institute, and they completed it, I mean, two years, and I think they were done, they traveled to their countries and so on. The last, I mean, in the late seventies or maybe in eighty-one, or eighty-two, as I recall, what happened was Zaki Tolimat was honored because Anwar Sadat told him he had to come serve his country. You've fulfilled your duty, and Egypt needs you, so they organized a ceremony under the patronage of Sheikh Jabir, may God have mercy on him. Sheikh Jabir was the crown prince, so it was under his patronage, and he attended the ceremony, and we all honored him, and I was the master of ceremonies, and I was also Kuwaiti and, you know, playful. And my father (laughs), he used to see me and it was really hard for me, honestly. Anyway, Zaki Tolimat left Kuwait and traveled, may he rest in peace. He was the one who brought Ahmed Abdul Latif, Tareq Abdul Latif, Al-Basyouni, Abdul Hamid Al-Basyouni. I told you their names earlier, but honestly, the best days I spent were at the theater studies institute. We were still young and mischievous and we loved art and such, and they always visited us. I remember in one of the years, there were Kamal El-Shennawi, Nahed Sherif, Imad Hamdi, Karima Mokhtar, and these, of course, we considered them as our parents. May God have mercy on them, and they used to visit us from time to time at the theater studies institute, so it was something enjoyable for us. After they restricted us in our homes and such, and we went out, in all honesty, my father was understanding, may he rest in peace. I mean, all my uncles turned against my father, but my father was understanding, I mean, he loved what we loved, I mean, he was very understanding. He loved art and such. Yes, he was afraid and he used to come to me and watch and didn't want me to sit with anyone or talk to anyone, but we were in our field, so there weren't any, you know, relationships like in university now. No, there were respectful relationships, I mean, very respectful. I mean, I really respected Ibrahim, Ibrahim was very respectful of me, for example, Masafir, and Jasim Ya'qoub, no, Jasim Ya'qoub, I met him in the activity management, the player.

Yes.

Amazing, my dear Jasim, I salute him. He's polite, Jasim Yaqoob is polite. Ibrahim, we used to act, Ibrahim and I, how much I used to tease him during rehearsals. I think it was in the play 'River of Madness' where I was the queen. I was very mischievous, sending commands as if I were the queen, giving orders and such. Those were sweet days, the best days, the days of theater studies.

Oh, after that, you told me you studied in Cairo for two years.

I studied in Cairo for two years at the Higher Institute of Arts and Theater. I studied children's theater because I was specialized in children's theater. Since I was already studying at the theater studies institute, it didn't take me four years there, just two. Also, for example, I used to go and stay for a month or two and then return. So, I developed a passion for Cairo. You find me now, last month I went, and now I want to go again. I spoke to my brother's son to find me a nice apartment and such. I got really attached to Cairo because I used to go and see artists like Mimi Gamal, Fifi Abdou, I don't know, I forgot the rest, Imad Hamdi. Imad Hamdi was like, you know, for me, those were the days when I was in Cairo, I used to come and go. So, I quickly got a certificate there, and then I came here and completed it. I entered the institute where I did my first theatrical work at a kindergarten in Mansoura, under the sponsorship, of course, of Sheikh Jabir, I think he was the sheikh, now he's gone. Sabah Al-Salem was before him, I think. Sabah Al-... what's his name, the sheikh before Sheikh Jabir.

Yes Sabah Al-Salem.

Sabah Al-Salem, so now what's the sheikh's name? So, it's not under his sponsorship anymore. So, I have an operetta called 'Journey of Peace' under the sponsorship of the Ministry of Education or the Minister of Education or something like that. So, there, I started to show the artistic work, and it won first place in all the Ministry of Education competitions. The operetta 'Journey of Peace,' maybe I gave you the tape or cassette or something like that. Okay, I'll prepare them for you again. So, in the operetta 'Journey of Peace,' I spoke about the journey of His Highness and the services and assistance provided, and I stopped with the Gulf and Arab countries, the poor countries, etc. So, the operetta 'Journey of Peace,' I mean, I want to remember the lyrics because let me remember, then I'll tell you the lyrics. The theater received an echo, and for the first time in the history of theater, the Ministry of Education almost didn't showcase such work for a long time. It was under the patronage of Sheikha Nahsmiya, Sheikh Jaber's sister, may God rest her soul. And of course, the Ministry of Education as a whole, I think the Minister of Education was Al-Nouri, and they were present in the operetta 'Journey of Peace,' which won first place.

Yes, you told me that this operetta took place shortly before the Iraqi invasion.

Ah, before the invasion, sorry. Now I'll tell you about the last day of the play's performance in the 1990s. So, Masafir Abdul Karim called me on the day of the invasion, the day when they said the Iraqis invaded Kuwait. So, I...

Does this mean the play was still being performed on the day of the invasion?

The play was over. We had just finished for two or three days, you know. So, Masafir said to me, 'Hey, I was going out with Bu Yusuf, we were going to get some falafel for breakfast.' We were driving in the car, and I saw helicopters buzzing around. Bu Yusuf was getting annoyed, wondering what all the commotion was about since the morning. We didn't know what was going on. We got breakfast, and as I was about to take a sip of tea, my sister called from her house in Andalus, telling me not to go out because the Iraqis had invaded us. Of course, we didn't believe it. I was even holding the bite in my hand, I remember, in shock, like, what, how did the Iraqis invade us? So, I was telling Bu Yusuf, 'Don't worry about them, they're insane, what do the Iraqis have against us?' So, I went to work. He worked in the Palace Affairs Department, as the director of the Palace Affairs Department. So, he left for work, and ten minutes later, Masafir Abdul Karim called me. 'How are you, Professor? How's everything? I don't know, and so on. Now, Masafir, how are you, my dear? How are you? He said, 'Come over, we have a meeting because you did the operetta 'Journey of Peace' and it won first place, so we want you in the meeting because maybe there's another project.

Is this the day of the invasion?

Yes, it was the day of the invasion. I got up, got dressed, and was about to leave when Bu Yusuf arrived. 'Where are you going?' he asked. I told him, 'We're getting falafel for breakfast.' He said, 'Go, go, they are cutting off the roads, don't go.' I said, 'It's okay, you want to ruin my work and everything.' So, I went. Masafir Abdul Karim told me not to go. Then, a little later, Hamid Al-Mashan called. They were studying with us. They wanted to kill them, Hamid and Masafir. 'How are you, Ruqaya? What's up?' he asked. 'Where are you going?' I told him, 'I'm going to Masafir's.' He said, 'Do you know the address, or do you want me to pick you up?' I said, 'It's difficult, if I come, I'll come with my car.' They gave me the address, but I don't know who called, Haya, maybe. Haya was my friend, I don't remember, exactly. They called and told me not to go out because they were setting up an ambush for the artists. I hesitated. I was about to call Basoula, Masafir Abdul Karim's daughter. 'How are you? What's up?' she said. 'Who's with you?' I asked. She said, 'They have my dad, the police caught him, but I hung up the phone on them.' Then I knew they had caught him and would kill him and so on. The same happened to Hamid Al-Mashan. Thank God, I was with the martyrs. Then, the invasion happened, and of course, I was there during the invasion. Honestly, I'll tell you the truth, I was really scared. I was so afraid to go out. My cousin's daughter came, my cousin's daughters, I mean, my aunt told me, 'Ruqaya, one of them was an engineer, you know, she used to give me updates. For example, she'd say, 'Look, I'm talking to you, but I'm continuing. I'll tell you, the heart of the army, how much power they have, you know, how many soldiers, is it from the army, the police, or what?' So, we sat and wrote leaflets. They encouraged me, so we wrote things like the names of pharmacies, medicines, etc., if they needed anything. My cousin's daughter and others, a group of us went out, and they caught us once, and I got out. Of course, my cousin's daughter had money with her, she gave it to them, and they let us go. So, I honestly started to feel afraid. I mean to the point where I would see the police outside the door, and one of the family members would go get a weapon, and we got scared and buried the weapon in front of our house, in the garden that was being built. So, things became scary, hearing sounds and not knowing what they were, and they would come, daughters of Al-Khatib, above all, God is great. I said, 'I'm not staying here anymore, that's it.

Just a second, what did you get the weapon for?

On the condition that they attack us or something, I mean the problem is that the one who brings us the weapon is clearly in his van (laughs), I mean it's obvious. So, Bo Yusuf told me, 'I'm going to leave the house and go out.' What? Just because, I mean, my cousin is a bit bold and she's an engineer, God bless her, she always encouraged us that we should get involved in this and be patriotic. Honestly, it's something that you can't avoid, that you have to be in this place or defend or do anything.

What is your cousin’s name?

(Al-Koot laughs). May God remember her for good. Now she's in America and gone. She's one of the Al-Khajah daughters."

Yes.

Yes.

Bless her.

Bless you.

So, you initially told me before I asked you, I'll ask for permission. Is it okay if we put the phone on silent?' Is it okay to put the phone on silent?

And let me mute it, please, so...

(Al-Mahmeed laughs).

Because of these annoying ones, and I know every while, but we're done. There's no one now.

You told me that they were setting up an ambush for the artists.

Yes.

But why were they setting up an ambush? Why were they looking for the artists?

Of course, artists are always sought after in all fields because they represent everything, especially since they can be brought on radio or television. Let's say, for example, as they told us, honestly, I didn't know until later. Humaidi Al-Mashaan, I talked to him at the end, before... before he got arrested. I told him, 'Humaidi, I found out what's going on.' He told me, 'Ruqaya, let me tell you, he wasn't very cooperative. They were setting up ambushes for you all so that you would come on the radio or television and criticize the ruling regime, saying this rule is like this, that rule is like that. That's the whole point. The intention is for us to go and speak out. Any famous artist, like what they did with Abdul-Hussein Abdul-Ridha, like how they used to chase Hayat, this Zainab Al-Dhahi, she used to chase the artists, knowing their places and addresses. Of course, when I, as an artist, would sit on television or radio and say, for example, the ruling is like this or that, our sheikh is not like this, Saddam, Saddam, what's there to thank Saddam for? It means we are not nationalists. That's why we used to run away from them. The artists used to avoid them, and they used to search for, search for the artist more than the officers and the police and the Ministry of Interior, meaning, the places where there are people, those sensitive places, whether it's on the radio or television or, you know, the writer, may God rest his soul, Al-Hashash, who used to write my artistic works also. They did the same thing to him. They killed him in Iraq, took him, because he said, they told him, 'Say this, say that.' He didn't say it, poor thing. May God rest his soul."

Yes, and do you remember the two colleagues you told me were contacting you so that you could meet them? Do you remember why they were killed?

Because they were collaborating, we didn't know. Then they told me, "Ruqaya, have you seen? They've been calling you since morning, wanting you to go because he was with me, he was always traveling. We used to sit together at the Higher Institute, then after we graduated, we decided to do an artistic project. He knew about it, I told him I had completed the operetta 'Journey of Peace,' and we could sit together to do another artistic work. So, 'Journey of Peace,' the journey of His Highness, and they wanted His Highness, like Sheikh, may God have mercy on him, who either left Kuwait for Iraq or vice versa. How they surrounded the palace or Dasman, because they wanted the sheikhs. So, who worked? It happened to be me. My luck was that a week before the invasion, I finished the operetta 'Journey of Peace,' and it gained significant fame. If only I could remember the lyrics, they were so expressive and impactful. This affected perhaps the first person who wanted to deceive me and take me... I don't know.

So, was he also collaborating?

Sure.

But.

100%, his older brother. He's the one who went out numerous times saying Musafer, not me. He contacted me, and he contacted you, saying, "Ruqaya, come, we have a meeting now, a car will pick you up," and so on. So, there was collaboration, and he got killed for this reason, as he was deceiving.

But I mean if he was collaborating, why did the occupying forces kill him?

No, they say it wasn't the occupying forces, it was the Kuwaitis, the resistance, the resistance. They caught Zainab Al-Dhahi, what did they do to her? Zainab Al-Dhahi, Msafer Abdul Kareem, Humaidi Al-Mashaan, and so on. There was another person, I don't remember his name, who used to appear a lot on television. These were all collaborators. And there are others I know who are now working as artists, some of them used to be with them. So, we don't want to dwell on this anymore, as they say, if the government forgave them, who are we as individuals to judge them or ask why? But I say, may God have mercy on the martyrs, and everyone will be rewarded accordingly in this life, according to their deeds.

When they were killed, they were killed on the same day, not at another time, meaning during..

I don't know, honestly. I'm not sure, but I know that they were reported on TV, I believe, or in the newspapers, or people were talking about it, that Mosafer Abdul Karim was killed because he was cooperating with the Iraqis, and the same goes for Humaidi Al-Masha'an. I think their nationality is Iraqi originally, and their older brother, whose name is Najm Abdul Karim, who is in London or America, said no. We, my brother, were not cooperating or anything. No, he was cooperating. I tell you, because he was the first one to call me, he said, "Ruqaya, come because you did the Peace Journey operetta, and we want to renew." Why did he call me on the first day of the invasion? I hadn't thought of going, but I don't know, Subhan Allah, what it means, how fate prevented me from going.

So, what was your daily life like during the occupation?

Well, it was miserable, very miserable. You see, my cousins and I were living in one block in Mushrif. Then we started moving around; we left the areas and went to Mushrif. So, it was almost a daily routine. They would sleep over at my place, and we would spend time together. But it was very tense; we were always on edge, you know, with all the nervousness. I can tell you, about eighty percent of us were constantly nervous because every now and then we heard things from them. When the Iraqis invaded, they were coming into houses, we didn't know what they were doing. They would climb onto the roofs, maybe you remember the horrible incident, the screaming, "Kuwait, Iraq," it was terrifying for us. Every time we heard something, we thought we should grab something for protection. There was a lot of fear; we would sit and just want to take precautions. We heard noises from cars, heard screaming, I don't know what was happening. These things, you know, they affected us psychologically. I remember my little daughter, this was after, not now, during the days when they said they captured Saddam and were going to execute him or punish him or something. So, she would put the lollipop in her mouth and say, "Saddam entered, Saddam entered," you know, these things were happening to everyone. Everyone had some kind of internal fear. Even though Kuwait was always, I used to say, imagine, we felt this before the invasion; Kuwait was much better then, so beautiful, everything was different until after the invasion when everything got ruined and changed. So, Kuwait became the target for everyone, truly the bride of the Gulf. But where is it now? I see that Dubai, Bahrain, and other countries have surpassed Kuwait in terms of beauty, knowledge, and everything else. I can't list just one thing. Now they're better, but I tell you, I hope and feel that Sheikh Ahmad Al-Nawaf is currently working on stabilizing Kuwait again, making it better than before. This feeling is not just mine but everyone's because after the invasion, Kuwait became very chaotic. Crimes increased; we used to hear about someone being killed or someone killing their son, the son killing his wife, and recently in Salwa, there was a crime. Crimes have increased; the chaos and hypocrisy, whatever I tell you about, in Kuwait, we have ninety or eighty percent, there's no security anymore. Initially, we used to leave the door open and sleep in the courtyard; now, we're afraid to even leave the rooms open because there's no safety anymore. Kuwait is not the same as it used to be; it's not the Kuwait of the old days. In the beginning, it was a coveted place for everyone, a place of safety, love, our organizations, our markets, everything was secure. Now everything is a scam. You're afraid to bring meat or fish or diapers because you're afraid they might be counterfeit. So, these are the things we say, and we move on to other matters.

Yeah, if we go back to the occupation period, you mentioned that when you called each other, you used codes.

Yes true.

How did you agree on these codes?

It wasn't like she would come to me, my cousin, Rabab, may God bless her, now in America, and some others. For example, if it was at the house of Al-Khatib, my maternal uncle's house, or the house of Al-Shatii, Al-Muslim, or at Bahman Issa's house, may God have mercy on him, who was a pilot and passed away when he was getting off the plane, so it was like, for example, I would ask her, "How many pens do you have?" She would tell me, "Now there are about ten, be careful." Three went to the right, four to the left, and my mom took them, so these were the codes between us. For example, if this guy, the one who's not from the police, those guys, I don't know their names.

The detectives?

The detectives or the leader of the forces or something like that, so God willing, the qidu (hookah) is present. (Al-Koot laughs) Pay attention, you see, our qidu, the one we have, is taller than the qidu you have. It's like this, look at these codes. For example, do you believe me if I told you I saw... What's-his-name? Do you believe me that I threw about twenty bags of bread in the garbage? I mean, this garbage... (The speaker laughs) So they were in this way that we couldn't be afraid. I mean, it could be surveillance phones."

Oh, got it. I mean, for example, were you agreeing personally that if you said something, it meant something specific when you saw each other?

Yes yes yes.

Or were you on the phone, and in that moment, you'd say something, and the other person would understand?

Ah, got it. So, we even agreed on the messages we distributed, like the ones at pharmacies. For example, where there was yeast or if someone wanted bread. So, for instance, if I wanted yeast today, it would mean something else, maybe thirty, depending on what that is. For example, if they wanted loaves or something like that, we knew these places well. People who were with us would tell us about them. My brother also worked in the resistance, and my friend's husband worked in the resistance, so there were many of us, but we didn't stick together in one place. For example, we might go to my house one day, then I'd go to their house in Surra the next day, then in the car we'd sit and chat and laugh so they wouldn't suspect us. Once they caught us writing something, and they stopped us and said, "Open the trunk." There was one woman who was a bit sly with us; she said, "You don't understand, you Kuwaitis, I don't know what. The trunk..." She meant the gas canister. (Laughs)

Ahhh.

Alright, so even though the publications weren't dangerous, for example, we used to list the names of pharmacies, places where bread and food were distributed, and other things. Sometimes they would give us money, substantial amounts, and we would distribute it to people in need. There was a lot of cooperation, a lot of love for the country, the prince, and Kuwait. Kuwait is in our blood. Unfortunately, after the invasion, many traitors emerged. I'm not saying before the invasion, but after it. Some people ate money meant for orphans, others ate from the insurance funds, and you must have heard about the problems in the newspapers and elsewhere. Many problems arose, which is unfortunate because after the invasion, things were supposed to improve. People were supposed to become more cautious, fear God, and relationships were supposed to become better. But I see the opposite. Greed has taken over. Today, if my neighbor, for example, gives me food, I might take a bite and give it to you, but now some people, no, we are the priority. There is a fear that food will run out, money will run out, and so on.

Yeah, alright, so regarding the issue of the occupation period, when you were, for example, going out and meeting in the Surra area or by car, how was the process of moving around during the occupation period?

We used to drive cars. I mean, I used to drive a car and wear regular clothes, and sometimes I'd speak Iraqi if I saw Iraqis. They'd stop us and say, "What's wrong with you? Are you from here?" I was born in Kuwait, but I'm originally Iraqi. So, I'd just give them a few dinars or if I had some chocolate biscuits, I'd give them. So, most of us were pretty much the same in that regard. So, they would overlook it, but if they were officers or forces or something, no, they'd hassle you. We couldn't do much about it. If I, for example, went somewhere, I remember once my aunt invited us, and we went. I was driving the car, and I saw someone, a star or not a star, behind me. Honestly, I got scared. I felt like turning around and going back. I stopped at the co-op, got out of the car, and stood by the door. I said, "Where's the bread? Where do I get bread? I don't know what to do." Then someone asked me, "What's wrong?" I said, "I'm not a Hajjah, where do I find Hajjah? In our youth days, but I said to him, 'No, I swear, we need bread for the kids; they're starving.'" He said, "Okay, I'll see." And he actually went and got the bread for me. So, I called Rabab later, and she said, "Where are you? You didn't come." I said, "Just wait, I'll tell you later." So, they were blessed with bread. So, we tried to speak in a bit of Irani slang.

Yeah, that's right. So, if you spoke Persian, why didn't you speak Persian?

No, we speak a bit of Persian. You see, they mix everything up a bit, some Arabic, some Indian, it's all jumbled up. So, little by little, we try to deceive them.

Sure, since you mentioned that during calls you would say "we have this many heads of a certain thing," it likely means you were using a code to convey quantities or measurements without explicitly stating them.

They didn’t notice.

I mean did they ever knock on your door or tried to inspect the house or some friction with them happened at your home?

No, they wouldn't enter our homes or attempt to search them. However, there were encounters like the one I mentioned before. I remember one time when we were at home, and the housemaid wanted to take out the trash. She was yelling because she wanted to leave and take out the garbage. I was walking in the yard and saw about four or five of them standing there. I greeted them, and they responded. Then they asked if we needed anything. I tried to speak to them, asking why they were behaving this way, but they insisted. I explained that I'm originally from Iraq but have been living in Kuwait for a long time, married to a Kuwaiti, and so on. They asked where my husband worked, and I told them he's not well-off and is sick. Eventually, they left after getting what they wanted. So, encounters like these made you hesitant to move or speak freely, as there was always tension. We witnessed some altercations with the youth, for example, shouting or similar behavior. Our neighbors advised us to stay inside because the occupying forces might come. So, we were cautious about interacting with them, as they were perceived as aggressive. I think you saw the play "Saif Al Arab," where the leader talks about Kuwait. You had to be careful and aware of what you say or do around them, as they were seen as brutish.

Yeah, okay, you told me that you or what I understood is that you didn't complete the rest of the period in Kuwait, you left.

Yes.

During occupation.

Yes true.

How did you leave?

I, along with the children of our uncle Majid Al-Kout, had some issues because they had a Hussainiya (Shi'a congregation hall) and we didn't, so they agreed with our father and since my aunt was with me, and the children were young, they said, "What do you think about leaving?" Our father and my brothers called me and said, "Come to Bahrain, we have a place for you," so we went to Bahrain.

But excuse me, do you remember which month this was?

My husband remembers, but I don't think I remember.

Yes, no problem.

Yeah, so that day, there was this guy who owns a restaurant, called Tehran Restaurant or something like that, I knew him, and I said to him, 'God bless you, don't you have a fake passport or something?' He said, 'I have my wife's.' So, he forged it and put my details, like I'm the one who's Iranian and leaving. The same thing with Bo Yousef. My aunt and my kids were young, and we told them not to talk. So, that day when I took the passports and got those, me, my uncle's house, and there were some people behind us, kind of suspicious, but no, they were Arabs, and those were suspicious. So, we were four or five cars, we were the first ones. They asked, 'Where are you going? Are you criminals?' So, I gave him the documents and said, 'This is my country, this is my passport,' and this is his, and I said, 'He's disabled, he can't talk.' Because Bo Yousef doesn't know how to speak Farsi. He asked, 'What's your name?' I said, 'Like this,' (Al-Kout laughs) So, the kids were sleeping, my aunt, what, I said, 'This one speaks Persian.' He said, 'Yes, go ahead, leave.' My cousin's son they held him, but I don't know what they did to him, I forgot about the issue, but the poor ones behind them, no, they held them, took their gold, took their money, took everything they needed. So, we went there, and we reached Iran, Tehran, we stayed, first we went to Abadan, in Abadan they welcomed us with water, ice and food, everything. Then they told us to bring our real passports. We were afraid we lost them, I don't know where. They said, 'Are you Kuwaiti?' I said to them (in Farsi), (laughs).

(Al-Mahmeed laughs).

They hurled insults at us because remember the Iraq-Iran War.

Yes.

So, we, I mean, it's like we're the ones who did something, anyway, we managed and thank God, someone who used to work as a contractor or was building our house in Mushrif, our son and I asked him about our situation after we were evicted, honestly. So, neither hotels give you a place, nor this, because you're Arab, Arabs aren't good. After that, they have the right to say things because we, I mean, we didn't do much, we stood with Iraq, I mean, really, after political stuff, anyway, when we, me, and Bo Youssef and the kids had nowhere to stay, we went to my uncle's house, my uncle Majid, he has villas and houses in Shiraz Congo, in an area called Congo. So Bo Youssef said, 'Come to my uncle's place.' We went, of course, we stayed for two or three days, you know, even more, it was comfortable, Masha'Allah, and there were four or five women with him, and kids, and everything. So, we told him we're going to Tehran to sort out our papers, see what to do, and leave. My uncle didn't hold back, he gave Bo Youssef an amount, but it wasn't enough for a plane ticket, so we were embarrassed to say, 'Oh, uncle...' When we went there, to Tehran, we were surprised they said we needed dollars to leave Kuwait. We said we'll go to Bahrain, or this and that. There were songs playing, in front of us at the embassy, he said, 'You, please, come here and you're like this and like that,' hopefully...

No it’s there.

And so on and so forth, we had two cars, one of them we sold to him and the other one we took money from him, I mean, to live there, he gave us dollars, and he arranged plane tickets for us and such. There's nothing, Dubai, no, Astaghfirullah (I seek forgiveness from Allah), Dubai is expensive. So, we said let's go to the Emirates and from there it's easy to go to Bahrain. Where are you, dad? Where are you, we told him we're going to Dubai now because we couldn't find tickets to Bahrain, we'll figure it out. Life is hard there, I mean, it's tough when you don't have a place of your own, no money, and your circumstances are difficult, and you're from the invasion and such, it's tough, honestly. So, we left and went to Dubai. Honestly, as soon as we settled in the hotel, we really liked it, and we stayed at the Metropolitan for a while in Dubai, halfway between Dubai and Abu Dhabi and such. We stayed there for a few days, and we went to the markets, and we felt like Dubai was similar to Kuwait. We felt really comfortable and enjoyed ourselves. We did our work and stayed in Dubai.

Who covered your stay at the hotel and, in general, in Dubai?

اThe government, the Kuwaiti government, they really came through. As soon as we arrived, they told us to go to a certain place, I don't remember, some place like the embassy. We went and they said, "Put them in the Metropolitan Hotel, of course, on the government's expense." We ate, drank, everything was on them. Then there was this guy, God rest his soul, Juma Al-Majid, he used to distribute electronics or something, and I was skillful, so he gave us an apartment. They told us to look for an apartment, we took one, and the government was paying our rent and providing us with everything. Honestly, the government didn't fall short, may God reward them abundantly. Those were the days of glory, indeed, the government took care of everything. No one else did what Kuwait did for us. We stayed, enjoyed ourselves, and when my dad said, "Come back," I told him, "No, Dad, we're happy in Dubai. If you want to visit, come here." I stayed there and even went to Fujairah and organized a small theater performance for them. I even spoke on the radio, announcing and inviting. From there, I started to flourish. When I returned to Kuwait, I went to Hayat's house. Hayat and I spent time together.

Mrs I want to interrupt you a bit before we move on to this stage.

Yes sure.

During the period you were staying in the Emirates.

Yes.

When you told me that you worked in radio, what did you do in radio in the Emirates?

No, I was just making announcements. Like, 'Kuwait, Kuwait, I don't know what my homeland is, Kuwait,' and I would speak, just like a call, you know, addressing, like, 'Oh people, oh my father, oh people of Kuwait,' calling you to be like this, pay attention, those who are resisting, I don't remember the whole speech, but it was mostly calls that Kuwait will return, Kuwait is like this, Kuwait is like that. So, my concerns for my country, and I would, you know, play national songs, they would tell me, for example, 'Sing my Kuwait, Kuwait, I don't know what.' Many things they would tell me to sing, like, Ghireed Al-Shate’ I don't know what, to the end, you know, talking, like, mixing Kuwaiti songs with Egyptian ones, etc. For example, I used to say, 'I will not live as a refugee.' Of course, it's a Palestinian slogan, but I used to, you know, mix things up, and they would go along with it.

Were Kuwaitis able to listen to it in Kuwait?

Yes, everywhere. You see, I believe some of them, yes, they used to broadcast... you know, radio and stuff. No one... you know, they weren't caught. There were a lot of Kuwaitis, honestly, may God bless them, they didn't fall short. They did everything. I mean, I can tell you, there was a difference between before the invasion, during the invasion, and after the invasion by a bit. Kuwait's youth, on your right, young men and women. Of course, men were more important in everything, in resistance, in distributions. They even gave money. They did everything before taking care of their own homes. They brought it for you. These are the rising youth, those who came after them, the elders who established things, like the Al-Rajaan and others. We can't mention names, but Al-Rajaan, because it became well known, according to the wealth they acquired.

Yeah, well, was this the only station Kuwaitis could listen to in Kuwait, or were there other radio stations?

No, they said there was... there was the Youth Station. Sometimes they used to broadcast, I think, from... from Vienna or from... I think from London. Once, it came out they told me there was a radio station or something. The Youth, they talk from everywhere. There were other stations, but they were hidden, because as soon as they... as soon as the Iraqi occupation felt that there were things, they would quickly attack, capture, and then it's execution. You know, there's no trial, no forgiveness or anything. Immediately, they're off to the gallows. After that, did you hear about the mass graves they made, right?

Yeah, I have a question. We hear that, for example, some of the locals who managed to get out of Kuwait would send recordings to radio stations...

Yes.

Messages for their families back in Kuwait.

Yes true.

So, was this part of your work?

Yes, yes, it was part of our work. For example, for me, it was through Dubai radio, Fujairah, Dubai. I would speak and such. There were recordings, I remember once... but unfortunately, they intercepted them. Once we recorded how things would go, like, what would happen, how we would send them, for the youth who were with us in the resistance, they were the ones who said it, and I trusted and arranged based on sending them there for the youth. They intercepted them on the way, including Hashash, and I think Zainab Al-Dhahi, she was the one who informed, because Zainab was initially with us, then she turned away, unfortunately. Let me pour you some coffee.

No, thank you. But if you want, I can pour it for you. Do you want me to?

Maybe later.

Do you want us to stop?

No no no.

Okay.

It’s alright.

I'm afraid the coffee might get cold.

No it’s okay.

(Al-Mahmeed laughs) Okay.

Alright.

Oh, but I mean those recordings where people, for example, would send messages to their families in Kuwait.

Yes yes true.

Oh, what was it like for you dealing with those recordings, if you were listening to them?

Well, honestly, during the days of those recordings and during the invasion, we were on edge, easily shaken by the lessons of betrayal. For example, once, my father, for instance, was calling out on television, 'Where are you? Listen, I heard that my cousin's son, Yusuf Al-Kout's son, Ya'qub, that's his name, they're saying in Dubai to kill him.' And we knew why. So, the families got scared, they started calling out on television and radio, 'Ruqaya Ya'qub, check on him.' I told my father, 'No, there's nothing.' Later on, we all found out that it wasn't Ya'qub Yusuf Al-Kout, it was Ya'qub Mohammed Al-Kout, who's actually my children's father. So, everyone was greatly affected, and my father was afraid, and I was afraid, and the people were afraid. Everyone was sending greetings, 'How are you?' We didn't know. Some were crying, some were shouting, some were fainting. It was a tragedy, a real tragedy. A sovereign state, a state... These sheikhs of ours, who were so good, honestly, they didn't fall short on the poor or the rich or the faraway. They gave and they did. It was a peaceful country, not a country where someone, like Saddam, would come and take without any right, just to grab and destroy and devastate. That's devastation for all of us. We didn't know where to go, what to do. I tell you, Kuwait, despite its size, we felt like we were in a cage, imprisoned. These were very impactful effects on us, honestly."

You told me that when you were in Kuwait, you had a feeling of fear, and there was a prevailing sense of nervousness among you.

A lot.

When you left Kuwait, what were the prevailing emotions among you?

The prevailing emotions were sadness. When Allah mentioned it for good, Abdullah Al Rowaished used to sing the songs of my family, saying, "My house is not like this." These songs, for example, "I will not live homeless," "My Kuwait, I don't know what it is," and when I remembered the songs I had done in the operetta "Rahlat Al Salam" about Sheikh Jaber Al Ahmad, and so on, these things affected us greatly, more than fear. Fear left us; we left, as they say. And we were very concerned about our families, not just my mother, father, brother, and sister, but the whole country, the people, the friends, the good people. We used to pray day and night, asking God Almighty to return the country as it was and better. Thank God, He did not disappoint us. This feeling was very overwhelming; it's like when you see a play and someone betrays you, and we used to do demonstrations. Kuwaiti groups, the Bedouns, everyone was with us. Even the Indians used to walk with us. We used to chant slogans like 'Kuwait, Kuwait, doesn't know what it is.' Of course, slogans like 'It betrayed me.' I remember these things; they were very impactful, very, very impactful. We used to gather, sit in cafes, talk, and someone would say, 'Even in Dubai, we weren't happy.' Despite being a nice country, it was still in its early stages. But, by God, the homeland, the homeland is dear, it's precious. The homeland is a piece of a person's soul; it's impossible for you to appreciate it. Even if they gave you all the treasures of the world, you, now, if you travel, if you go to Indonesia, America, Iran, or anywhere like these nature spots, you might spend a day, two days, a week, or two, but the yearning for your homeland brings you back. The homeland is precious; it's invaluable. We were very, very sad, and I pray to God for the safety and return of Sheikh Nawaf. He is truly a wise man, may God help him and help them help us, not just us, of course, but those deviants, everyone with their own thoughts. So, the homeland is precious no matter what I tell you. Now you betray the lesson; now I cry when I remember these things because, God willing, we can't do without it. If I told you, for example, that, by God, they offered me, what would I tell you? Switzerland, I don't know where. Anywhere you go, any place you go, but you return to your country. You have the scent of your homeland, the smell of this earth, the soil of this world. May God protect our sheikhs and may all things be rectified, returning better than before. That's my wish, and the wish of every honorable person.

Inshallah.

All of us.

Okay, during the end of the occupation, do you remember if you were following the aerial bombing and the liberation war?

A lot, oh yes, I remember. My granddaughter was just a little baby, maybe a year old, but whenever she heard the sound of explosions, she would get scared. We were really worried. We were living in fear because the bombing was constant. We hoped that it would end soon, and thankfully it did. Of course, we were anxious about what would happen next. Would they capture someone? Would they do something? We weren't sure what would happen, so we were living in fear. But thankfully, everything settled down, and that's what I depicted in the play "Saif Al Arab" with the song they sang, with all the flags and everything.

Yes we will talk about this play of course.

Yes, I know.

But umm, umm, what do you remember where you were and how you heard about the liberation?

Oh, the liberation, no, I was in Kuwait. We returned to Kuwait, I think, yes, we returned to Kuwait.

But you were-

No, not the liberation. I mean, I returned to Kuwait after the liberation, after the kids were in school there. They had a break, like, they stopped the high school, so we brought them back to their schools.

Before you returned, Kuwait was liberated, and you were still in the Emirates, right?

It was liberated while we were in the Emirates.

Yes yes.

But when it was with, I mean, based on the assumption that Saddam, umm, Saddam, umm, what's his name, when did he, when did it happen, I forgot, by God.

Are you referring to 2005 when America invaded Iraq?

When Saddam passed away.

Yes it was 2005.

Yes.

Yes yes I guess it was 2005.

Yes.

No, I mean the Iraqi invasion of Kuwait.

إYes.

When the occupation period ended, were you in the Emirates?

Yeah, at the end of it. Afterwards, after enduring a lot of hardship, we left. The first time we got in the car, we said we'd go to Saudi Arabia, then we decided to go to Dubai. This is Bahrain, but, umm, they started fighting us, killing, committing crimes, and such. So, we turned back and went through Iran.

Yeah, yeah. So, when you were in the Emirates and Kuwait was liberated from the occupation, do you remember how you received the news? How did you hear about it?

Yeah, of course. I mean, no matter what I tell you, it's a feeling, you know? It's a feeling of joy, a feeling of independence, a feeling that Kuwait has returned, a feeling that we've had enough of seeing. Like I said, Dubai was great to us. They didn't hold back on money, food, anything we wanted, they brought it to our doorstep. Cars, everything was available. And you know, Dubai is also nice and smooth. You can go there, come back, it's not like here [in Kuwait], where there's fear and anxiety. But, I don't know, I mean, the eye is drawn to the beautiful, but like I said, for me, when Kuwait was liberated, it was a feeling, you know? The joy was there, we were out on the streets, the flags, and of course, the cars honking non-stop. You know, especially us Kuwaitis, we were really emotional and expressive. It was truly one of the happiest moments of my life, entering, I mean, the liberation of Kuwait, praise be to God. And at the same moment, my husband said, "No, I'll go take care of things." So, we just sat there. What else could we do? We relaxed mentally, knowing that everything was okay, and God willing, these are the things that brought us joy.

You told me that when the summer vacation started, you took the kids out of school.

Yes.

And you came to Kuwait.

Yes.

Do you remember how you felt when you first arrived in Kuwait?

By God, I was very happy when I first arrived in Kuwait. I mean, to the extent that I told Bo Yousif, 'You sleep while I drive the car,' and it wasn't even an automatic car like now, the gearbox was like this. I drove from Kuwait to the Emirates to Kuwait. Then Bo Yousif woke up, grabbed my stuff, and they were like, 'What's the excitement?' and we clapped and put-up flags, even the kids, who were tired and wanted to sleep wherever we stopped, were holding onto the flags. I mean, the feeling, I mean, it's just wonderful and more than wonderful, and no matter what I tell you, I can't really express it, honestly. But when we got home (laughs), we found the Iraqis had taken everything, gold, money, everything, so after we went out, we didn't even know how we went out, as if we were going to return.

Is this your same house?

No, it's in a different area, Mushrif. Here it's Salwa. We used to live in Mushrif. So, um, yeah, basically, we started to renovate, took out all the stuff, packed them, and then we started to arrange the house. But no matter what, even if it's however it is, the important thing is we returned to our country.

And how did you feel when you saw your family?

My kids were so happy. I mean, I can't even tell you about these moments. You know, when someone has been away for a year or two, and suddenly your brother, your mother, what's your feeling? It's a feeling that can't be described. It's a feeling of, I don't know, crying, love, tenderness, it's like you were dead and came back to life. It's a very noble feeling, no matter how much I tell you it's just a bit. Imagine if your brother or your father or your mother were traveling and they came back, what would your feeling be like? How would I describe it? My country is gone, two years I was outside, my country. So, what's the feeling if, for example, you smell the soil, the Kuwaiti soil, the smell of Kuwait, its heat, its dust, everything, I mean, it's beautiful. And I still live with the belief that Kuwait is the best place for me, and there can't be a place like Kuwait anymore. My country, and that's it. Even if I go to heaven, my heaven is my country.

Wonderful. Okay, why don't we pause the recording and take a short break?

Yes sure.

Thank you.

Okay, Mom, you told me that after returning to Kuwait from the Emirates, after Kuwait was liberated, you met with the actress Hayat Al-Fahad.

Yes.

Was that the meeting where you all talked about the play Sayf Al Arab?

No, of course when we first met, you know, there's that longing and excitement. I mean, she's a very special person, regardless of her being my friend, but she's considered an artist in Kuwait, and not just in Kuwait but in the Gulf and all the Arab countries. She's the top artist, undoubtedly. So, she's valued as an artist and as a friend. When I met Hayat, of course, after she saw the operetta 'The Journey of Peace,' she liked it and said, 'Ruqaya, why are you talented? You're amazing, and so why don't we work together?' About Kuwait, about the invasion that happened, and such, so we started writing. Until now, I never thought about working with Abdulhussain; I rarely saw him, sometimes he would pass by the institute or something, so I said, 'Okay, may God make it good.' So, we sat together, laughed, stayed and slept at her place, and gathered with others. Her house was like a paradise, I think. So, at the very beginning, we saw this guy named Al-Wuqayan, and I also had magazines, he did an interview with us, he said to me, 'You're talented, you have ideas, why don't you work in journalism with us?' I worked for a while and then left. So, we returned, me and Hayat, and of course, during these periods, she would say, 'Ruqaya, do you know about the promise from Bu Adnan, Abdulhussain Abdulredha, he has the Arts Center, and they're starting something new in Kuwait, they just got liberated, so they've become liberated, it hasn't been long, very short. We still didn't work on ’Sayf Al Arab,' and 'Sayf Al Arab' never crossed my mind; we were just sitting. Sure, 'We're going out of the magazine, 'World of Art' or 'World of Whatever,' I have copies of it. Whatever it's called, 'World of Art.' So, we came out, and she said, 'I'll pass by Bu Adnan.' I said to her, 'Hayat, I'm shy, I'm actually still a bit shy, not meaning fake or anything, no. I told her, 'Okay, let's go,' we reached the center's door, she said to me, 'Come on, let's go.' I said to her, 'No, I won't agree, I won't go down, you go and say hi to him, get up.' I said to her, 'Go say hi to him, Hayat, I have no acquaintance with him, either way, both of them are coming, Ruqaya, how are you?' I remember, you know, when we used to live in Rumaythiya, my dad's house, a piece of it, I still remember. So, when I came from London, you and your mom came with him,' I said to him, 'Yes, yes, but I don't remember seeing you on TV and such, and you're great,' 'Okay, come down, have tea with us,' I said, 'No, a second time, there's no way, again and again and again until they made me get out of the car, so we sat down. He said to me, 'You studied at the institute and whatnot, and I think you traveled,' I heard that you were in Egypt and such,' I said, 'Yes,' he said, 'What work did you do?' I said to him, 'Honestly, I haven't done much work, I mean, at your level, you're the experts, I've done simple works, I've done a lot of works at the Ministry of Education, I have a lot of recognized works and artistic things, children's plays I used to write, and so on.' So, he said to me, 'What have you done? I mean, a lot of work,' I said to him, 'I have an operetta 'Journey of Peace,' of course, and while I wasn't working, two days later the invasion happened, he said, 'Really?' he said, 'With you too, You’re bad luck for Jaber Al-Ahmad (laughs), may God rest your soul, Bu Adnan.' Anyway, he said to me, 'I need to see the tape,' I gave it to him, he was surprised, he said to me, 'For you, I mean, for you, as a recent graduate, and this work, and gathering the children, it's not a small thing, about twenty schools, and they all say, 'Welcome, hello, welcome,' and our hearts, etc., 'Oh bearer of the flag,' and so on, there was a lot of powerful talk. Teachers did a lot, they did this and that, and so on. Of course, I was delighted. He said, 'How are you, what are you doing?' Hayat and I were preparing for a project about the Iraqi invasion, and Ruqaya, of course, was here, and she went out and faced problems and was in the resistance, and I was moving from house to house, according to Hayat's words. He said, 'What did you write?' I was silent. He said, 'Ruqaya, speak, what did you do?' I said this and that and that. He said, 'No, this is similar to our work. Well, I am writing a work about Kuwait. How about you become the director and Hayat...?' Of course, Hayat is well known, may God bless her. So, we started interviews and such, and this is their work, etc. We sat together, he said, 'Okay, I already have a scriptwriter, and we haven't thought of ’Sayf Al Arab,' I had written it after the invasion or a word from him. I took the text, and I read it, of course. Even when you read the play 'Sayf Al Arab,' you say, 'The idea is Ruqaya Al-Kout and Hayat Al-Fahad.' To be honest, Abdulhussain and I were coordinating with each other to collaborate because I am an academic and he is a renowned artist, so we sat together, and he said, 'Look,' I said to him, 'Bu Adnan, what do you think about starting 'Sayf Al Arab?' because they were promoting it as 'Sword of the Arab Nation,' and he said, 'Wow, congratulations, to me, every director, any director, the greatest director they work with has two thousand, five thousand, three thousand, or five thousand actors. I received a sum that no one else took, not in European countries, Arab countries, or in the Gulf, because the work was truly a success, you know, tremendous. And you've heard about it. To this day, my son still sings songs from 'Sayf Al Arab,' the lyrics, not just the dialogues, to this day, everyone, if you ask him, for about ten years, from 2000, I don't know, until the invasion until today, he never tires of this work, right?"

True.

So, I started moving forward and worked with Bu Adnan, and honestly, the cast was great. May God have mercy on those who passed away and prolong the lives of those who are still with us, from Hayat, Ahmed, Khalid Al-Ubaid, and AbdulTayyib, who was in charge of makeup, my beloved heart, the artist. I hope God heals him. And yesterday, I was talking to him. Abdullatif Al-Banai, of course, he's a bit tired now and such. He's a wonderful author, he has been excellent in all my artistic works; he's considered my work companion. AbdulKarim AbdulQadir, may God heal and protect him, and Anwar Abdullah, may God prolong their lives and keep them safe, O Lord. All of them have always been, I mean, most of the time, I preferred them to be with me in most of my works. I value them. God willing, Bu Nasir will recover soon, and God willing, only good health awaits him, O Lord."

Inshallah, okay, you told me, for example, about people's reactions, I mean, for example, the Ministry of Information and artists that a young woman is producing this work with artists who have a history.

Yes.

Well, how did you feel about it? I mean, you were young, dealing with these artists, as a director. So, were you directing, managing, and guiding them?

Well, you see, many of the artists, not all of them, of course, were understanding. Hayat was very understanding, Khaled Al-Obaid, may he have a long life, and Ahmed Jawhar, I'm still in touch with all of them. But, to be honest, it was challenging. I mean, even the directors who were working, with Bo Adnan, like Najaf Jamal, and what's his name... Abdulameer Al-Turki and others, like the Egyptian one, I forgot his name. So, several of them, some had formal training, and some were more experienced. Maybe experience was better than formal education, but they all, you know, I felt that... I'm not saying I was a hundred percent perfect, humans aren't flawless. Maybe I made mistakes, but they could be rectified. Just because someone is a veteran artist, like Abdulameer Al-Turki, for example, he's been in the industry for long and has contributed to TV with Abdulhussein, whether in theater or series, but I found myself getting tired. I mean, I felt like I needed space, it was too much. I was like, "Let them be," you know? "I'll step back if the work turns out well." They really fought against me, to be honest. I remember one time, Bo Adnan and I were planning, and he had invited all the Gulf Sheikhs, from Qatar, Saudi, Dubai, Bahrain, Kuwait, all of them, just the Sheikhs. So, I said, "We can't have everyone coming in and sitting with them, it's not appropriate." So, we only reserved special seats for them, and I would always stand. The director knows how to maneuver, observe, and listen, but without anyone noticing. Sometimes, I'd stand near the door, and a lady would try to sneak in, I'd stop her. I said, "Sorry, you can't. I'm so-and-so," but Abdulhussein saw and told her, "Please, leave." The director is the one who decides everything. This is just a simple example of the problems we faced, like jealousy, envy, I don't know. God, may He rest his soul, was the noblest and kindest person. He was an artist with a rich history and a great personality. Sometimes I'd get annoyed or things would get tough, and it was really... I can't describe it. May God have mercy on you, Bo Adnan. I'm not saying I'm the artist; on the contrary, I'm the youngest among them, not in age or appearance, but in experience. They're considered Gulf art giants, so I'm just starting out. I'm not, you know... But what's nice is that they accepted me. I would tell Bo Adnan, for example, "Please direct the traffic from right to left," and he'd say, "Okay." If someone else had said that, claiming to be an artist and knowing their way around, no. These artists, I can't forget the support they showed me, their kindness, their culture, which isn't just academic, sometimes it's mental, profound, and deeply rooted. So, the opposite. I even told Bo Adnan once, when he asked what I wanted in terms of payment, I said, "Bo Adnan, my payment is standing alongside the giants like you, Hayat, Khaled, Ahmed, and Abdulameer. You're the ones I want to be with. But if you're talking about money and stuff, I have nothing. Without pay." Also, Abdulhussein understood this. He knew who Ruqaya was and why she was working. I loved art, nothing more, nothing less. But unfortunately, after all these years, after all this art, it's like... there's no appreciation. Before, before... before Corona, Ayman Al-Hubail wrote a truly magnificent work called "Dhaym Al-Bawarih." So, art has become... it has no value to us. If you want to appreciate an artist, you have to give them money under the table, while these people have spent years and years in this field, building theaters, even the Ministry of Education's theaters.

Alright, if we go back to the play "Sayf Al Arab."

Yes.

What was it like working with the late artist Abdulhussain Abdulredha, may he rest in peace?

I told you earlier, my testimony about Abdulhussain Abdulredha is wounded. What can I say about him? He's one of the giants of Arab, Gulf, and Kuwaiti art. Abdulhussain Abdulredha, Saad Al Faraj, Khaled Al Nafisi, Hayat Al Fahad, Maryam Al Saleh, and Maryam Al Ghadban. Maybe some of them didn't have academic studies, but their artistic taste, sense, simplicity, and demeanor, they didn't reach these positions except because they truly deserved them in this field. So, these are the artists who carried Kuwait's name with them, and I consider myself a small part of them. I cannot forget, and I have no favors over them; they have more favor over me. I worked with them, but they have the merit that I reached this position. May God have mercy on the deceased, and may He prolong the life of the living, O Lord.

Sure, you were involved in this project on multiple levels. You contributed to the conceptualization along with Haya Al Fahad, and you were also involved in writing the script itself.

Yes.

Yes, and you were the director. I want to ask you how many scenes in this play, for example, have a basis in real life or in the actual events that you experienced during the period of the invasion? Were there real stories or situations?

All of it.

Really?

Yes, all of them. Look, if you see the first scene, of course, I told you, even though it's been thirty years, I can still recall the past. If you see the first scene, it represented the beginnings of struggle and hardship, and we used to say a phrase like "the pomegranate seed," and so on. Maybe you don't remember this work as you haven't seen it in theaters. It was the beginning. So, yes, many of our youth, may they rest in peace, they passed away. The house that is now a symbol of the house where Abdulhussein, Maryam, and the group were, we can almost say it's like the house in Qurain where they were attacked. There was fear, and this is a painful memory. Then in the second scene, they were trying to sell but couldn't, and the Iraqis were harassing them, squeezing them, taking their goods, and the arguments that happened in the market scene. Yes, the same thing. You can say that all the scenes were indeed true, 100%. For example, when they were talking about, I don't know, I want to remember the things that happened. I don't know, I mean, I can't say that all the scenes were true, 100%, not just 50%. It's the most authentic work that came out during the invasion, among all the plays, and not to underestimate the efforts of our fellow artists, directors, and actors who worked hard on many projects, but "Sayf Al Arab" is incomparable, absolutely incomparable.

Well, as you rightly pointed out, it was indeed a highly successful work, and the evidence is that it has become one of the classics of Kuwaiti theater.

True.

Back then, during the time when people attended, how was the turnout?

Oooh.

The feelings of both the audience and your team regarding the turnout for this play?

Abdulhussein Abdulredha told me, on the first days of the show and such, he said to me, "See, Ruqaya, I tell you something, congratulations! The play, I mean, there are no tickets left, none. The theaters are always full, Masha'Allah. And the first play in the history of theater that runs for almost six months. There are no other plays that last for just two or three weeks. Done. ‘Sayf Al Arab’ play, I mean, it's like everyone is coming to see it, from Egypt, Lebanon, Syria, the big sheikhs, I don't know, the Cooperation Council. So, it was the peak, you know. How many plays, even if I tell you about Adel Imam's plays, 'The School of Mischievous Boys' or whatever, they usually have a very strong echo in the Arab theater field. 'Sayf Al Arab’ overshadowed them all. It was a really good work. And even now, I tell you, until this day, I hear kids who maybe weren't even born yet, but as they grew up, they watch 'Sayf Al Arab’, they sit and sing along or talk or repeat the lines. Just two or three days ago, they were sitting there, saying the same things, repeating the same words that we used to discuss in ’Sayf Al Arab’. This indicates the success of the artistic work and the play. It's a peak of a play. No matter what I say about myself, I can't, I mean, I can't talk about this artistic work and tell you about the theater, that's Abdul Hussein Abdul Redha. His artistic works are very successful, especially this work. And like he said, maybe I'm lucky, maybe I'm unlucky, I don't know. (laughs)

I have a question.

Go ahead.

The Iraqi invasion of Kuwait and the period of occupation were difficult times for everyone who experienced them.

True.

Whether they were inside Kuwait or outside Kuwait, the Iraqi invasion certainly caused shocks and wounds that remained with the Kuwaiti people.

Yes.

For a long long time.

Yes.

Yes, "Sief Al-Arab" was a comedy play. When you were creating the play, were you considering whether comedy was suitable for addressing a historical event like this, or did you believe that this genre could effectively tackle such a topic?

I see. Let me explain. During the time of the invasion, everyone was understandably anxious and saddened by the loss of lives, homes, livelihoods, displacement, and many other distressing events that occurred before, during, and after the invasion. So, the play had a comedic and satirical tone intertwined with political elements. We can't really separate politics from comedy. For example, Abdulhussein portrayed his character within the context of these events but with a touch of comedy mixed with some seriousness. If you observe the play closely, you'll find many situations where there's a mix of sadness and fear alongside comedic elements. It was a way to provide some relief and also to reflect on the period we lived through. So, we considered it as a Kuwaiti comedy, with political satire, striking a balance between various emotions. It wouldn't have been appropriate to dwell entirely on sadness and fear as if we were reliving the invasion. So, that was the idea behind our approach as a group when we decided to incorporate comedy and satire. And it seems like it worked because, as you mentioned, the play was a hit. Do you know how many tapes were sold? How many million?

Indeed, it's quite remarkable. Well, as you mentioned earlier, the play ran for approximately five months.

Yes.

Yes, during this period, did any amusing incidents or anything happen during your work, I mean?

By God, there were so many funny and amusing situations. Let me tell you once (laughs), we were at the Arts Center, and there was this guy, may he rest in peace, well-known, you know, I really value this person. I want to remember his name, but anyway, he was the one who used to do the electrical work and stuff like that. So, we were in the midst of preparations and all, and Abdulhussein would call him, 'Hey, what should I do with the decor?' He would reply, 'Curse your father's father for the decor,' and so on. These kinds of situations used to happen, you know, when we were at the peak of work, and someone would call us, wanting this or that, and bringing us food, you know, these things. Once, it was me, Abdul Latif Al-Banai, Anwar Abdullah, and Abdulhussein Abdulredha, sitting around a table and chairs (laughs). Abdul (laughs), Anwar Abdullah, may God give him health and well-being, was so robust. So, we were reading once, and suddenly, Anwar Abdullah went under the table. That was one of the funny situations that used to happen, you know, we would laugh, and then I forgot, I forgot (laughs)."

Yes, after that project, did you work on the play "Al-Dheeb wal Anzat al-Thalath"?

Yeah, it's similar, exactly like 'Sayf al-Arab'. But of course, I have ambitions, and I love children. I said to myself, 'Kuwaiti children must also know that Kuwait is a peaceful country.' One night, while we were all asleep, it suddenly hit us that Kuwait was invaded. We must make sure that children also understand what happened in Kuwait, but in a simplified way suitable for them. So, we came up with the story of 'Al-Theeb wal Anzat al-Thalath’. In this story, the wolf represented Saddam Hussein. The three goats symbolized, for example, Sheikha Intisar Al-Sabah, the mother, and her daughters, representing the Kuwaiti people. The wolf, the main villain, represented Saddam and his allies. These things, you know, we were all asleep at night, at home and everything, once, one of the goats went out to bring food for her children, or I mean, I portrayed her like that. Of course, the sheikh was asleep or in a meeting, indicating that the family represents the people as a whole, they don't know. Once, it was like Dawood Hussain and Al-Ajmi and others, the main ones, once they came in, broke into the house, and took the children, similar to the story, but in a simplified form serving the child. In the end, just like in ' Al-Theeb wal Anzat al-Thalath', we put Saddam down. Imagine, it's the same method, the same story as 'Sayf al-Arab', but simplified to serve the child.

Did you feel that there was interest in this play?

جYes because it was me who presented it. My partner was Abdul Latif Al-Banai. I and him, I tell you I was my companion, who was a partner in the work, and Abdul Karim Abdul Qadir, who used to sing, and he used to attend rehearsals. So he took the first place. Also, even in Dubai, they placed us and said it was the best play after the invasion, "Sayf Al Arab" and " Al-Theeb wal Anzat al-Thalath" because this one is for adults and this one is for children. So, due to the numerous performances, we performed in Salmiya. Do you know how expensive Salmiya Cinema is? And what's it called, Hawalli Governorate. I also performed in Dasma and in several places. So, it was a successful work, honestly.

How long did the play continue?

A lot, a lot. We used to perform for a period of about a month, or so. There was a significant audience turnout; we had a lot of bookings for this play. So, we stopped during the end of the year, maybe due to studies or something like that, then we resumed again. We even performed during Eid Al-Adha and other occasions. I'm telling you, it was crazy, from the amount of demand we had from the audience. We even went to Salmiya Cinema, they charged us 500 dinars for the night, and we said okay and took it. We performed there for maybe another month. The turnout was strong, and thank God, I used to give out gifts to people and artists because of how much we were performing.

Amazing.

Mmm.

What do you say we take a short break and pause the recording?

Before we paused the recording, we talked about the play "Sayf Al Arab."

Yes.

And the play "Al-Theeb wal Anzat al-Thalath."

Yes.

These two plays were in the nineties after the invasion.

Yes.

Oh, after "Al-Theeb wal Anzat al-Thalath" what did you do next?

Oh, of course. I worked on various artistic projects, including children's theater like "Sara and Saud." And most of the children's theater productions involved Dawood Hussain, Al-Ajmi, may the late Intisar Al-Sharrah rest in peace, and other artists.

Oh, you were telling me about your work in children's theater productions.

Yes, of course. I've worked in theater for both children and adults. Before that, I also worked on some television series, especially in educational settings. When I started working, I engaged in various theater projects for adults and children alike. Regarding children's theater, I worked on productions like "Sara and Saud," "Leila wa Al Ghaba," "Al-Theeb wal Anzat al-Thalath" "Qariat Al Finjan," and adaptations from English literature like "Nahr AL Jnoun" and "Dhaym Al Bawareh." Some of these productions were not staged or faced challenges due to circumstances.

Dhaym Albawarih

Is a series?

Yes.

Yes.

The works you mentioned, were they all from the nineties or from the nineties until today?

from the nineties until today.

Yes okay.

Yes.

You mean in general?

Yes.

Okay, okay. So, regarding the nineties, besides the theatrical and artistic works you mentioned, what were you doing in your life?

People say about me, well, I'm not one to boast, but they say I'm a good cook, like an artist in the kitchen. I enjoy cooking; it's like an art form to me. I love to cook, and many people have appreciated it. Honestly, it can be exhausting sometimes because it requires a large cast and it's quite demanding. But I do enjoy experimenting in the kitchen. I used to have a farm where I would go and spend time. I love birds, I love gardening, and I enjoy taking care of pigeons, though I'm not a pigeon fancier. (Laughs) Alright, so besides that, I've been pursuing my life with these artistic endeavors, and I love traveling. As I mentioned, Cairo is my passion. Some may criticize and say things about Egypt, but for me, I love it more than any other country. Egypt is my love.

I know that you stopped working in the field of art.

Yes.

Oh, since when have you stopped, and why did you stopped?

Yeah, I didn’t stop at that time, I could have continued, but circumstances happened, I mean, ‘Al-Theeb wal Anzat al-Thalath' play, no, oh, 'Qariat Al Finjan ' play, you know, do you know how much this play cost me? It's probably over three hundred thousand, maybe I can tell you a bit. Mimi Gamal, I got her from Egypt, I put her in a hotel for about a month, I reserved it, you count, this, this period, this month, but fifty thousand, of course, and Wild Al-Deera, same thing, the artists who were with us in the play, and this is Mahmoud, and of course, the decorations and everything, the lyrics of the songs were all by Abdul Latif Al-Bunai, and mine, and the decorations, the decorations, I mean, I'm the first Kuwaiti director to make a circular theater, which means there are no scenes, no, the scene is the same as in that play, for example, here, this is part of it, this scene, a thousand scenes, the theater is a thousand, another scene, no, there are many, you know, on electricity, for example, the work, and such, to bring out the scenes.

This is from the play 'Qariat al Finjan?’

Qariat Al-Finjan? No, this is from 'Sayf Al Arab.' My bad. (Laughs) In 'Qariat Al-Finjan' can we pause and continue, or do we have to stop and start over, you know?"

Do you want us to stop?

Stop stop.

Yes.

Of course, the play "Qariat Al-Finjan" was very costly. The fee for an artist from Egypt was high, and there were many other expenses. Khalid, Huda, and a large group of artists, besides the numerous decorations and the large cast, made the play very expensive. Unfortunately, Khalid Al-Aqruqa, who is Wild Al-Deera and spoke before, I heard him talking about it on TV and when I spoke to May May Al-Eidan, she confirmed it. I said, "May, how is Khalid?" She said, "You know Khalid, we know." So, he is the one who messed things up for me. I came on the day of recording, and I found Ruqaya Al-Kout had brought the cameras and everything ready to shoot the play. I asked, "How come I take the cameras and start shooting when we haven't even rehearsed for the premiere night yet?" That's what I know, and I'll continue later. Imagine, on the premiere night, I had reserved around thirty to forty thousand dinars. We refunded all the money to the audience who attended the play. It was a very powerful play. Of course, after stopping the show, I went to speak with Abdul Hussain, me, and Mimi Jamal. Even Abdul Hussain didn't have anyone. Imagine, on the night of Eid, who would work? On the night of Eid, if all the artists are busy and prepared, who would work with us? So, we had to incur losses and stop the show.

Oh, I see. You stopped the show because Khalid Al-Aqruqa didn't show up with you.

He disappeared, huh? Alright, let's look for him. Abdulatif Al-Banai is here, maybe you can check with him later. Let's search for him, knock on his door. He's nowhere to be found, as they say, like salt in water, dissolved. (Recording stops)

Let me stop, yes ma’am go ahead.

It was about stopping the play's performance.

We stopped the show, and of course, we tried. I told you, just imagine the embarrassment, even if I hadn't done anything wrong. The artist is committed, I told you a while ago, Abdul Hussain Abdul Rida, honestly, no matter what happens, he never harmed an artist or behaved inappropriately or made a mistake against anyone. That's what being an artist means. Despite all, Khaled, you disappointed us, you let us down. Last time from Egypt, we were preparing to present, and on the night of the performance, there were no cameras or anything. I told you this information because I had to do an interview explaining, so he won't say later. Ruqaya Al Kout, come on, come on, come on, I start speaking, right? I'm not a graduate of elementary school to talk like this, Khaled. This is what made us lose, imagine losing in a project with three or four hundred thousand. Everything stopped, and we contacted the newspapers, and I have their clippings, the world and its troubles, I don't know what. They said he fled. They said he had cancer, I remembered, they said cancer and he went to Thailand, vanished. How did he vanish? I don't know. Years later, Bo Nasser, Abdul Latif Al Bannai, he's still around. He told me, Ruqaya, forgiveness is kindness, see, Khaled is sick and we don't know what's wrong. I told him, even if I forgive him, God won't help him or forgive him. What he did in my work, so between you and me, I've seen many things in artists, not everyone. I was just telling you a while ago about so and so. Not all artists, unfortunately, know what art, commitment, and work are. If you, for example, as a woman, when I started with Bo Nasser in 'Sayf Al Arab', I told you, the people around us, when the artist says such things, when a journalist says your work is on a high level and such, and someone behaves in this manner, this approach doesn't satisfy anyone. I committed as an artist with you, no matter what, I remember Hayat Al Fahad, her mother passed away on the night of the performance, and she presented and cried. That's genuine art, but the art that should be, because Ruqaya, I brought photographers, and I wasn't prepared, and she told me, come on, come on, go on stage. This is illogical, right? This is what I'm telling you. For this reason, it stopped. They tried with me. Adel Al Mussallam, I don't know if he passed away or alive, Abdul Latif Ahmed Jawhar, all my friends, they're still around. Hayat, to this day, is telling me, Ruqaya, we don't need you for the children's theater in Dubai, do this. I don't want to. When I came back after all these years, we made a work called 'Dhaym Al Baraweh,' I said the world has changed, and the approach has changed. Let me present this work, come out strong like ’Sayf Al Arab’. In art, Kuwait's art should come from Kuwait. We were the first artists. We're the ones who established and stopped and made theater and art. Now, everyone just runs off to another country to present works. Is this art? So, I said to the world, peace be upon art.

This is from the days of "Qariat Al -Finjan" or from "Dhaym AL Bawareh"?

No, it's from "Qariat Al -Finjan." "Dhaym AL Bawareh" hasn't been around for four or five years, approximately. When did this coronavirus thing start?

2020.

Two thousand and twenty, two thousand and nineteen, two thousand and fifteen, umm, two thousand and fourteen, and two thousand and twenty, we started writing and preparing.

This is assuming it would be a series, right?

Yes.

Yes.

Based on the assumption that it would be a series, Abdulatif Al-Banai and Mohammed Al-Shaye were with us, and I said I would include them with us in "Dhaym Al-Bawarih" and so on, an artist who was with us before Munir Al-Hariri, before he traveled, so we were preparing on the basis of the series. I was shocked, shocked and still shocked, how, how am I, the first Kuwaiti director, let down by the Ministry of Information. I left.

And the Qariat Alfinjan, what year was it?

Qariat Al Finjan, approximately, we can say, umm, umm, for about, umm, fifteen years, fifteen years, umm, from, umm, two thousand and fifteen, umm, seventeen, eighteen, umm, this, this, this year, I'm not sure, two thousand and eighteen, umm, two thousand and seventeen, I don't remember exactly, approximately, from fifteen years ago, or from twenty, twenty or fifteen, maybe this time, I mean.

Yes.

Not 2020, maybe 2018, I don’t remember exactly.

Ys yes.

Yes.

Alright, I think we’re reaching the end of the interview.

Inshallah.

Oh, so is there anything you'd like to add that we might have overlooked to cover about your life in general?

Thank you, you've done more than enough, and may you live long. And, um, I think we've covered everything.

So, I feel like you're wrapping up, but before you do, I have a question. When you look at your life, do you contemplate if there's anything you could do differently?

A five years ago, when I started, I was really determined about "Dhaym Al-Bawarih" series. We had put all the pieces together, and Abdulatif Al-Banai was really strong seven or eight years ago. Me, Al-Habib, and Al-Shaye were a big group, with my manager and all. So, assuming that I was determined, but when I presented the script and they told me I had to put a certain amount of money, I was frustrated. But then I thought, "Peace to the world, peace to art," and I decided not to work. Now, my friend Hayat was encouraging me. About two or three weeks ago, we were discussing, and she said, "Ruqaya, you know, Hayat, first of all, I'm tired. Secondly, I've left the art scene for years, and many disappointments have happened in the artistic field. I don't know, I mean, it's like, if the chance is gone, it's gone, the voice doesn't matter." She said, "Hayat, you started your life from the beginning. You were able to rise and go. Now, you're almost working in Dubai. You're like, from the days of selling dates, and I think you're working there." Because really, here in Kuwait, I'm not saying everyone, not everyone, but I'm telling you, no matter how good you are, it's no use. They just want to talk. We're not just anyone. They've given us stuff before, okay? But now, there's no use anymore.

Yes, exactly, we've reached the end of the interview. I really enjoyed this interview.

My dear.

We can't thank you enough for your time and for sharing the details of your life. You're amazing, and you've done great.

My dear, may you live long and may you always be blessed. You've done so much, and I hope you continue because you're not just serving your country, you're serving us too, helping us achieve our goals and aspirations. We support you and stand by you, and together, with your support, we'll achieve great things, God willing. It's truly wonderful and beautiful to see people like you with ambitions and a desire to do something for their country. This, of course, shows that you genuinely want to serve, to serve your country and your people. Service isn't just about being in a hospital, clinic, or school; it's about providing support in every possible way. Your dedication is the best and most noble service. May you be strong, my dear Abdulaziz.

May God give you wellness.

My darling.

Nice to meet and know you.

My dear.

And may you live long.

Same goes to you.

Enshallah we’ll stop recording.