The First Few Days In Kuwait

I was dangerously naive during my first days in Kuwait. The insurgents were across the border in Iraq, I thought, and I walked the streets of Kuwait believing that the people waging war were hours away and not walking beside me. I was wrong.

I had been in Kuwait a few days, working feverishly to get the visa to Iraq and to arrange transportation to Baghdad. Doing all that wasn't as easy as one would think. Looking back, I must have given the Arabs the impression that I was an experienced foreign journalist with ties to organizations with political and financial muscle. I moved about the city without fear. What they mistook for confidence was actually a lack of understanding of the insurgency.

I couldn't afford a room in one of the hotels that housed Westerners and rich Arabs. Those hotels were grouped together in another section of Kuwait City, away from my humble inn. Even if I had been able to afford a high-end room, I would have still elected to stay where I did. You can't learn about people if you don't mix with them. My hotel was in the middle of a neighborhood where few Westerners ventured. The only ones who did were those who had been doing business in the Middle East for decades and were comfortable with the language and culture.

About the second night during my stay, I was lying in bed constructing a mental plan for the next day. There were contractors to see on whose convoys I hoped to ride into Baghdad -- for free, I hoped. There was still the tracking down of the elusive Iraqi embassy, an organization that everyone believed didn't exist in Kuwait.

While the plans paraded in my mind, I heard my hotel door open. Stunned, I watched an Arab man walk into my room and stop about five feet from my bed. I closed my eyes to slits. I wasn't armed, and I thought --quickly -- that I would see what he was going to do. Perhaps he had entered my room by mistake. But I decided that if he took another step toward the bed, I would consider the intrusion as an attack. But I'd wait to see what he was going to do.

The man looked at me for about 30 seconds then turned and left the room. I still don't know what to make of it, but I didn't report it to the hotel staff. Their behavior had already convinced me they were anti-American, and I wasn't going to do or say anything that would make them think I feared them. To report the intrusion would have been an admission of my uneasiness in their country. Let them think that I acted calmly because I'm a black belt and can handle any intruder! They didn't know I acted as I did because I wasn't armed, have no knowledge of martial arts and that what appeared to be calmness was just my instinct to see if the man meant to harm me. I would have jumped out of bed swinging if he had taken another step toward me, but I thought I should see what his next step was going to be.

The next day I was at it again. Walking the city, taking cabs to points beyond walking distance. I did draw the line at taking the city buses. I suppose if there were Arabs watching me, wondering what I was doing in Kuwait, they must have scratched their heads at my willingness to go anywhere in the city. I talked to anyone who would listen, I walked through markets where I was the only Westerner in sight, and I ate in cafes where I was greeted by a shocked and suspicious staff.

I've always taken risks in my work, and I guess my audacity has worked to give people pause. If you act with confidence, people are less apt to mess with you. Besides, I knew Aaron never left my side, and that was more comforting than having a Marine division accompany me.

The insurgents were everywhere I learned. They were in Kuwait, Dubai, Jordan, Turkey -- everywhere. It's just that they behaved themselves outside of Iraq. They traveled to the other Arab countries to conduct business, to receive and send money, take on supplies, recruit fighters and visit their families. So, yes, I was passing them on Kuwait's streets. I suspect we're passing some of them on America's streets, too.