Back to Kuwait:
I have been lots of places in my 27 years on this planet…..but I have never been as thrilled as I am today. I have done stand up in bars as a teenager trying to catch my stride and build a career in comedy. Privileged is not the word to describe where I am today! Blessed would be a better choice of words. Performing is deeply rooted in my blood!! I knew it was my destiny from an early age; performing in Germany, Italy, and Sicily at the age of 19 for US Military was thrilling! It just kept getting better! I went east to perform for US troops in Japan, Korea, Guam, and then back to Germany and Bahrain.

I pushed and pushed, and worked really hard! Few years later I was performing at the Royal Albert Hall in London, England, one of the most prestigious venue I have ever performed in (twice), next was Sydney Olympic stadium in Australia, Melbourne Vodaphone arena and my favorite Nelson Mandela Theatre in Johannesburg, S.Africa, then Amsterdam, Dublin, Ireland, Egypt (AUC), and Qatar; I can go on and on. I AM BLESSED...because I have done all these things, and traveled to all these parts of the world, and met so many cool ass people! The thing that really amazes me, and I am not tooting my own horn(ok, maybe a little) is that I have traveled to all these parts of the world as a Refugee, living in America waiting to attain my Citizenship. (LONG OVERDUE BY THE WAY!!)

Alright I know I have some explaining so here we go (Deep breath) I am a Palestinian and like most Palestinians I was not born there, I was born in Kuwait. I lived a great life with my family of 8, including my parents, which is a moderately small Palestinian family. My father worked as a telecommunications engineer (he loved phones; he had an infatuation with them, but that’s another story.) I went to a private British English school learning British English; I wore a bow tie to school and loved it! I looked adorable…a chubby kid in slacks, vest, and bowtie--you would definitely get beat up for that in the states. It was a great life! In one day and night it all changed.

Saddam Hussein, or sergeant asshole as I like to call him, decided to invade Kuwait. It was pretty crazy watching everything unfold. We were multi millionaires living happily: family time everyday, BBQ’s every weekend, friends, cousins, uncles, aunts and visiting other displaced family members from Palestine in Jordan. I can’t say it enough, it was so much fun being 9 and not having to worry about anything. It all changed with one invasion. We thought we were safe, I mean at least we weren’t in Palestinian territories trying to find our next meal. My father and mother wanted a future for us! Just like any other parent would.
It all changed our lives forever, my father didn’t diversify his money--and so when Saddam declared the Kuwaiti Dinar to be the same value as the Iraqi currency we had nothing--only what my mom had been hording for the last 30 years. Nickel here dime there, next thing you know she saved up more than 30,000 and my father liquidated his stock of phones that he had in the garage to add another 10,000 or so, just enough to help us get out. This proved to be very difficult. The Iraqi military, as frail as it was, still could scare the shit out of you. They stormed in our neighborhood leaving not one house unturned. My mother tells me that when they came into our house at 1am while I was asleep, a soldier was going to throw a grenade into my room--until they found out we were Palestinian and didn’t, thank God, hey whatever works. I would have been a pimp from Oakland if that meant them not taking any of our lives.

Everyday was more difficult than the next. Saddam released 100’s of prisoners into Kuwait to basically rob the place blind; Violence was becoming more and more prudent. We wanted out, specifically my mom and dad wanted my sister Hifa and I out, as I was the youngest and my sister because she is FEAMLE and they didn’t want her in a compromising position. My brother Amer was getting his PHD in Houston, and my other brother Omar was in Salt Lake City getting his degree. My parents wanted to send me and Hifa to Houston; But how?!?! A month goes by and finally we find transport, a school bus that goes from Kuwait thru Iraq to Jordan, and from Jordan my sister and I would go to Paris, then to Houston, Texas--that’s right ye motha flipping ha. Sounds easy right--wrong!! We had to get the money out and it was hard because there was one thing holding us back and that was our stop in Baghdad, Iraq. We heard they were searching everything except women…so my mom, the superwoman she is, decides to make two money belts for her and my sister; then she needed more room so she took a razor to the lining of her purse, put equal amounts of money in each side and sewed it back together. Still needed more room and decided to put the rest in the back of the suitcase and off we go on a 24 hour journey into the unknown as it felt.

We arrived mid day in Baghdad and we looked around us--it looked like the crown jewels where missing and everyone was guilty! I mean peoples belonging where everywhere!! They didn’t search they dumped out peoples suitcases. We had no shot of make it with that money still in the case. My sister began to get nervous while sweat was drowning me from the intimidation and I was looking to my mother the super hero. As my mom shut my sister up, who would have easily gotten us into some really deep shit with her really anxious behavior, she comes up with a quick simple and yet effective plan. As everyone was getting off the bus my mom opted to stay and open the case, messing up the clothes as if it had already been searched. My sister and I are off the bus gazing out over out of the corner of my eyes to make sure our mom was still there. They skim thru my belongings and my sisters, and we all start to get on the bus, starting to feel the tiniest bit of relief, until a soldier sees my mom and starts making a fuss! He approaches my mom in a very macho and accusatory fashion…yelling at her and asking, “Why was this luggage not searched? And did you ever get off the bus?” At this point it wasn’t a question, I was going to wet my pants…as a matter of fact a little drizzle started to brew. It all went away when a captain saw this soldier ripping my super mom a new one. The captain starts going off on the private.
Captain: (in ARABIC) what the hell is a matter with you boy!! You should know better than to yell at this beautiful woman with her kids next to her. DOES THIS FACE LOOK LIKE A LIAR OR A CRIMINAL?? Have some manners you ingrate. Obviously this woman’s luggage has been searched already! Look at her clothes all messed up! Hasn’t she gone thru enough??? Get out and I don’t want to see this again!

He apologized to my mother and sent us on our way. As the bus moved I could feel my mom burning inside, but she never let it out--She stayed calm cool and collected. Superwoman!

My Mom, Hifa, and I were in Amman, Jordan for 10 days, until we got all the documents that we needed to go to Houston. My mother still had to go back. She went back on a school bus to Kuwait to catch up with my dad and brother to finish what needed to be done to move forward. To my mother’s surprise, my father was gone when she got there. He was no where to be found, all my brother told her is that Local officials took him away…for nothing. My mother had no idea where her husband was for 50 days. He was being tortured with cigarettes and God knows what else. His diabetes was neglected for 50 days and amazingly he survived. Not long after though, he passed away. My God forgive him. It was too much to go from Millions of dollars to a 99cent store in Alief, a suburb in the Houston area.

So, I am trying to keep it as tight as possible without leaving any monster details off the list! We all ended up settling in Houston, TX. We have been picking up the pieces and trying to put the puzzle that we loved so much back together again. I came to the States as a Refugee and the immigration process doesn’t do anybody any favors--I am still a refugee almost 19 years later. I will be getting my citizenship in December this year, God willing. In the mean time, I am Palestinian; well, Palestine is not a State; therefore, making me stateless. That means I don’t have a country that claims me, hence I can’t get a passport, so I am Legally Homeless. Well how the hell do I travel? UN article 28, convention of July 28th 1951, invented a Travel Document for Refugees. Great…right? Not really, nobody knows what the fuck it is when I bring it to the counter, even immigration people. This is really frustrating for a traveling man like me. I can give a dissertation on this shit. I know immigration laws like you would not believe. I have corrected Immigration officers on 5 continents, and I don’t know, 40 plus countries NUTS!!!

So now after 19 years of being separated from where it all started for me, I now to go back today as a comedian performing for US troops in Kuwait and Iraq; It is just unfathomable. I am still a refugee going back to Baghdad to tell jokes where I almost pissed my pants, and thought for sure we were toast. My aunt, who is the only one that I haven’t seen in 19 years, is not getting younger! She used to bring me chips and lollipops. When my mom found out she was pregnant with me, she bought me clothes before I was one month mature in my mom’s belly. Saying I miss her is an understatement--I can’t wait to see her! My heart aches to hug and kiss her, spend time with her, and tell her how much I’ve missed her. The only question in my mind is--I hope they let me into Kuwait--with this Travel document·

To be continued………….. Pray that I get in….