A letter to my son

Dear Hamad,

A few weeks ago, I woke up in a bunk bed on the shore of Lake Ossippee in New Hampshire. Turning on my side, I noticed Jason in a towel groping his way to the shower, Craig sealing off the sunlight with a pillow and Adam cursing me in Arabic that any normal person would have forgotten by now. But this was not a normal experience. These are the experiences that some people are fortunate enough to have and that others can only read about.

Throwing a pair of socks at Adam for old time's sake, I felt every care in the world dissipate. And I felt ten again. I felt ten because these are the men that I had grown up with for ten summers as a child. I felt ten because my present tapped a past that was frozen in time. I felt ten because I was mouthing lyrics to songs I thought I had long forgotten. And I felt ten because I was the only Arab at a predominantly Jewish summer camp. I felt ten, and if not for you Hamad, I didn't want to feel 31 ever again.

Not knowing the demographic constituency of the camp, your grandparents sent me to Camp Robin Hood to lose weight. But instead of losing, I gained. I gained friendships, self confidence, and yes, weight. And of course, for fear of not being allowed to return, I learned how to conceal the demographics of camp. But the one thing that I gained that shaped the person I am today was an early exposure to a culture foreign to my own. I learned to make out the etchings on both sides of an increasingly jagged coin.

And I fought hard. I fought at home where I was thrown out of class for not accepting anti-Semitic remarks. I understood the frustration of my teachers. I respected the propaganda and its role in promoting the esteem of my people. But I abhorred the generalizations that I was being taught. No one can speak that way of Jason, Adam or Craig in my presence. After all, I was brought up to believe that Arabs were loyal to their friends.

I also fought at college, demanding respect for the Arab voice at university and ultimately engaging in a long and drawn-out media war against an Israeli group on campus. Personally, I was very happy with the outcome. These guys were not Jason, Adam, or Craig, and I owed them nothing. They made the mistake of picking on the one Arab that grew up fearing the Holocaust. And they didn't have a chance in hell.

A few weeks ago, somebody asked me how I would raise you. Would I raise you along secular lines, more in line with my acquired belief system, or would I raise you along conservative lines, more in line with my heritage? There is no doubt in my mind that this will be one of the hardest decisions I make and given the state of the world today, my choice will be a gamble.

Hamad, last week an American soldier was killed by a Kuwaiti gunman. The Western media was indignant. They decried that the Kuwaiti was biting the hand that was protecting it and that he was most probably part of the al Qaeda network. Whispered consensus among a more conservative element believes that the Kuwaiti was protecting Kuwait against American colonialism and would surely win a place in paradise for his sacrifice.

These explanations are mutually exclusive for most people. And for a select few, both explanations "make sense," even if neither is "correct." I want you to be one of those few. This is my wish for you. And it is a wish that I will have to strive hard to make a reality if Kuwait's political landscape does not change.

When I was your age, Kuwait had a strong liberal presence. Fearing a challenge to their rule, our leaders gerrymandered and gave access to parliament to people who were fundamental (less emphasis on the first syllable, more on the last two) in their beliefs. This led to an increasing intellectual stagnation. However, what I believe will stifle your intellectual growth is not religious fundamentalism. After all, there are fundamentalists in all societies and they should be allowed to practice their beliefs. What will stifle your growth is the fact that any ideas that oppose these "fundamentals" are not given voice in Kuwaiti society. And this, Hamad, is Kuwait, by far and away one of the freest Arab states.

Most of us have recurring dreams and I'm no exception. There's the one about the ill-prepared math exam (although at business school I feel that I am of the minority that has that as a waking dream). And there is the dream in which you lose one or more of your teeth. I have one where I am wobbling because one of my legs is longer than the other. But of all my recurring dreams, there is one that I look forward to. The content of this particular dream varies but the look and feel of the surrounding is unmistakably Robin Hood. And always, without fail, I wake up with a smile on my face feeling like I am back at camp. In fact, I never left.

Hamad, next summer I will most probably send you to Camp Robin Hood. I will send you to the land of the White Mountains and the waters of Lake Ossippee. I will send you to the place where I learned the importance of diversity and teamwork and the value of camaraderie that crosses conventional boundaries. But most importantly, I am sending you to a place where intense color war among arbitrarily chosen factions is inevitably followed by a time of reflection, healing and reunification. May the experience be as rewarding to your life as it has been to mine.

Your Father, Naif



Naif Al-Mutawa is a Tufts alumni and will graduate from Columbia Business School this spring.