TIME: Almanac 1993/TIME Almanac 1993.iso/time/122490/1224008.000

Text File | 1992-08-28 | 8.5 KB | 215 lines

                                                                                WORLD, Page 36

The Terror Of Hiding In Kuwait


ROBERT MORRIS spent 120 days in isolation, fearing the Iraqi
soldiers and wondering whether he would outlast Saddam Hussein.
Now he worries about the fate of the Kuwaitis.

By ROBERT AJEMIAN/BOSTON and Robert Morris


    Q. How did you avoid being discovered by the Iraqis?

    A. We lived in secrecy. It was exhausting, but we kept
strict rules. Windows were always covered with heavy blankets
so that people outside saw no body motion inside. At night all
lights stayed off. We used only the glow from a TV set fixed
on mute. We had to beware of everything we did. In an empty
building, something as simple as dropped silverware makes a
racket. To cut noise I took showers at 3 o'clock in the morning.
Even our cooking smells in outside hallways became a danger
signal.


    Q. How many were in your group?

    A. We were nine: six British, an Irishman, an Australian and
me. We all lived in adjacent apartments.


    Q. You could stay in touch with one another?

    A. Our phones kept working. We worked out systems for
calling one another, three rings, hang up, then three more
rings. The person called never spoke first. To take our
telephones into more soundproof rooms, we extended phone lines
with lamp wire. At safer hours we slipped up and down corridors
to meet together in different apartments. On the hall floor
outside my apartment, I positioned a piece of broken mirror
against the wall so that the entire length of the corridor was
visible from my partly open door. It was a group rule that
everyone checked the mirror before stepping into the hall. When
we made visits, knocks on the door required still another code.


    Q. You identified different sounds fast?

    A. In that silence our hearing became acute. Footsteps of
group members were unlike those of strangers. We discovered
that bare feet on concrete floors made more sound than soft
soles. As an early warning, we wedged an empty Coke can against
the fire door outside my apartment. Whenever strangers entered,
the Coke can cracked like a gun. Immediately we'd warn the
group that strangers were on the floors.


    Q. Did many Iraqis come to the door?

    A. Looters constantly prowled the building. Most of the 450
apartments had been vacated in a hurry and were still full of
household goods. It was like a big store. To hear a sudden
pounding on the front door was terrifying. We had towels
stuffed along the door bottoms to help muffle inside sounds.
And we laid small rugs in front of the doors to let us tiptoe
close and look out through glass peepholes. We taped over the
peepholes. In each tape we made a tiny opening with a pin, like
a camera, so we could see out but remain unseen.

    One day there was a banging on the door. I crept up and
looked through the pinhole. Two heavyset men in dirty Arab
dress stood there. One of the faces seemed to stare right at
me. They were studying the nameplate on the door. I had posted
the name of an Egyptian friend, Amr-Al-Arabi. They muttered
something to each other and left. I was elated.


    Q. The Iraqis offered a cash reward for every foreigner
uncovered?

    A. That unnerved us. Also we kept hearing awful stories
about doctors shot at hospitals, about incubators confiscated
and babies left to die. We heard that Kuwaitis who hid
Westerners were strung up and castrated in front of their own
families. Some Arabs offered refuge to foreigners for long
periods and then suddenly turned them in to the police. The
stories made us more tense.


    Q. Some Arabs helped you?

    A. Downstairs in our building was a Syrian, Imad, who saved
us. For four months he brought us food and water. He warned us
when soldiers came. He installed double-bolt locks on our
doors. He mailed our letters. Years ago, Imad went to
engineering school at George Washington University. He's very
pro-American. If he were caught hiding us, he faced execution.
But he never wavered. Imad is a saint.


    Q. Did you ever wonder if he might turn you in?

    A. I'm ashamed to say I did, several times. Imad had no
money. I remembered the Anne Frank story. Her family was hidden
for years and then betrayed. In Kuwait we heard so many stories
of betrayal. Group members who ran off with cars or stole money
or panicked.


    Q. Your building remained a good target?

    A. To discourage Iraqi visitors, we got the idea of
immobilizing the building's elevators. Imad agreed to knock out
six of the seven lifts. He removed some parts, and the
elevators stopped running. It was wonderful. Upstairs we took
doorknobs off fire doors so looters couldn't move around so
easily. We carried the knobs around in our pockets.


    Q. What about food and water?

    A. At first we believed the crisis would end fast. As the
months dragged on and the U.S. forces sat and waited, we began
to worry about starving. We decided to store all the food we
could get our hands on. Together our group had several thousand
dollars in cash. So Imad began to buy up more supplies. He
delivered food between midnight and 2 o'clock. On my computer
we began to keep track of our provisions. Now we could tell how
many cans of tuna we had, how many kilos of dry beans. We even
factored in how much protein we had, how many calories. That
computer gave us great comfort. By October we figured we had
enough for nine months.

    We filled our bathtubs with drinking water. Every bottle we
owned was filled with water -- 75 grape-juice bottles, garbage
cans, plastic clothes baskets.


    Q. Did your group stay on good terms?

    A. Not always. We had some bad arguments. Often we turned
on those who created noise. Two of our group, the Australian
and the Irishman, took way too many risks. After a few months
they acquired a hero complex. They wanted to make trips out of
the building. The rest of us protested that it would draw too
much attention. Imad was very much opposed. After several
weeks, the two of them insisted. So we made them sign a paper
saying they could not return. They left and somehow got to
other houses.


    Q. What about keeping spirits up?

    A. We had dramatic mood swings. Little things crushed us.
When we heard about Jesse Jackson's taking out a number of
people, all of us were filled with hate and anger. Who picked
the lucky ones? we asked ourselves. Why them and not others?
News that George Bush would not permit the presence of hostages
to influence his foreign policy saddened us. I was a combat
veteran who had served in Vietnam. I wanted to count for
something. Even the news that the President would spend
Thanksgiving with the troops, such a short distance away,
depressed me. You begin to feel abandoned. Your mind turns
soggy.


    Q. How did you deal with endless time?

    A. The process of survival itself chews up enormous time.
It's so absolutely fatiguing. You spend so much time and energy
trying to avoid mistakes. One of us rephrased an old saying
that we put at the top of our written rules: "Yesterday's gone.
Tomorrow will come if we survive today."


    Q. You kept up with the news?

    A. We had a radio and listened to the BBC every hour, also
Voice of America, which broadcast messages from home. I heard
a dozen messages from my own family. News of the military
buildup lifted us too. We thought Bush was really going to
invade. We even sealed off a safe room with tape in case of
poison gas. All of us wanted Bush to hit the Iraqis. When
nothing happened, we began to feel Saddam Hussein would outlast
us.


    Q. And now that the hostages are out?

    A. It's great, of course. Now the Kuwaitis are the ones in
danger. I know them well. I'd been there three years teaching
dentistry. The Kuwaitis are imperious. They exploit people.
They're spoiled with wealth. One is certainly entitled to ask
why soldiers should fight and die for them. But no people
deserve this kind of horror. Last week we heard that Kuwaiti
doctors, some of them friends of mine, were systematically
being shipped to Iraq. I don't think they'll ever be seen
again.


    Q. Is your mind still back in that apartment?

    A. I still can't relax. I developed such rigid habits in
that place. But this afternoon I'm really happy. One of our
group just telephoned and said Imad was granted a humanitarian
visa by the U.S. We all told our embassies about him. He risked
his life for us. And now he's free himself. What a marvelous
piece of justice.