Somethings Just Cant be Forgotten...pt 2

Continuing on from my previous post...many years have passed since I experienced that emotional gut wrenching funeral of the "sleeping man" I did not know but that does not mean I don't think about it often...way too often in my opinion. *sigh* The whole thing is more like a dream now...but its never far from my thoughts.

As for my second story...I was 6 months pregnant with my 3rd child and we lived out in Hamad Town. The first few years we lived there it was fairly isolating and lonely simply because a lot of the houses were not lived in yet...and not having a phone or car didn't help much either. My neighbors at the time were a Syrian family in which there were two wives and numerous children. I would visit them from time to time as a neighborly type thing...when someone was sick or during Eid etc...but I didn't really understand their Arabic and so visiting was a stilted and confusing affair best left for now and thens. My oldest daughter would quite often accompany me (she was 4, or 6 or 8...you get the picture) and would do her best to translate. Something she has been doing for me her whole life when and if needed. Thanks daughter *smiles*.


The older, or first wife, had around 6 or 7 kids...I was never completely sure as they never seemed to be all in the same place at the same time. In the years I lived there she seemed to have a new baby every 2 years or so...and even after I left she had more as I seen the new additions years later when I happen to pass by. If I had to guess I would say she had around 15 kids all together...but that's only a guess...could have been more. (another post for another day would be how her posse of kids made my life a nightmare with their constant coming and going in MY house, taking my food, my kids toys, my sanity...and leaving destruction in their wake...lordy the memories)


The younger, second wife, was fairly new and only had one little boy at the time that we moved in....but within a year or so she had a little girl. This little girl was not destined to spend much time on earth...but I feel like her death was something that could have been avoided...she was sacrificed on the altar of ignorance and I cry still when I remember what happened to her.


Picture a house overrun with children. Everything from screaming toddlers to teens and everything in between. Every morning the front door would open and our neighborhood was besieged by this gang of tiny thugs...causing mayhem and destruction where ever they went. The youngest could be seen in the middle of the street..playing with broken toys...peeing or on occasion pooping...and always always seconds away from being just a memory in their mothers heart due to the number of cars that routinely dodged them as they came around the corner (this house was right on a scary curve in the road)....I'm constantly amazed that none of those kids ever died being hit by a car (that I know of)...I'm not saying there were never hits...they were...thankfully most people had slowed down enough to make the corner that those hits were not enough to do serious damage. It never taught the kids or the moms a lesson though about road safety *sigh*. ...anyhow...



The complete disregard for their children's safety was a burning point with me. I did not want to have to witness a serious injury or, God forbid, a death merely because those two mothers would prefer all the kids be outside out of the way while they did whatever they did. I don't want to minimize the blame to the father...but the guy was hardly ever around. In all the years I lived there I only seen him a handful of times. I always wondered if he had yet another family somewhere else with more kids and more ignored wives for the most part. Who knows? On several occasions my own husband would go over and talk with him about keeping his kids safe etc (ironic I know...asshole) and the guy would just throw up his hands in apparent defeat and say.."what can I do...the mothers don't want them in the house cause they make a mess".


Well here's a thought...don't have a tribe of kids if you cant handle them and if you believe treating them like animals to be let out every morning and brought back in every night for feeding is how to raise kids...then I declare you an unfit parent and shouldn't be allowed to have any....15 (?) kids later its a bit too late...but I only hope luck is on your side as to their safety...


it wasn't...


Anyhow, one morning life was going along humdrum as usual. I was cleaning my house and listening to my own kids playing in the next room when suddenly my husband burst into the kitchen to shout that their was trouble at the Syrian house and maybe I could go over and check it out...see if I could do anything. He had been outside fixing on a van when the first wife came to him and asked him to take a look at seconds wife's little girl. Something was wrong with her. He didn't feel comfortable going into their house without the husband around so told me to go see what was up.


Trying to guess what might be the problem was no good as many times in the past bandages, bandaids, panadol, iodine, gauze etc were all borrowed for the latest injury sustained. I was thinking maybe one of the other kids fell on her or dropped something on her and cut her...she was only 7 months old at the time and her siblings were very rough and dangerous...to themselves and to others.


I plodded over, not in too much of a hurry since I was heavily pregnant, but as I drew nearer I could hear all Hell breaking loose. Screaming and crying and the sound of things crashing about. My heart nearly leapt out of my chest to hear such a commotion....it just seemed odd and out of place on that quiet morning. I mean their house was generally noisy anyhow...had to be with that many kids...but this was something else all together. It was absolute pandemonium!....I decided I needed to hurry.


I walked into the front door to find chaos in full force. Kids were running everywhere....mostly naked even though it was winter time...the first wife was shouting, at nobody in particular it seemed, and adding to the confusion and noise. As I mentioned I didn't understand their Arabic too well so really didn't know what she was going on about. I looked around for the second wife hoping to spot her baby and see if I could get a look at her. I found her over by the back door...holding her little girl...the baby was naked as well and the mom was crying and rocking back and forth but nobody was paying much attention to her. I hurried over and tried to look at the baby but she held her protectively and wouldn't let me see much. I decided it was no time to be nice about it and reached over and tore her hands away and grabbed the little girl for a closer look.


I'm no doctor...not even close...but with my first look I felt that little baby was already dead at that point. She had no apparent injuries that I could see on her naked body...but her eyes appeared to be fixed and dilated...her skin wasn't soft and pliable like a baby's should be....and her little mouth was slightly open....and she was cold.


I assumed she was dead already....but I didn't KNOW that for sure...so I laid her down so that I could start CPR on her. I had taken classes years before...I tried furiously to remember the differences when giving CPR to babies...the two finger approach...the lighter puffs so the lungs are not damaged....my mind was racing meanwhile chaos still reigned supreme around me. I tried my best to shut all that out so I could focus on this little child...so I could help this baby that had no one to help her.


At some point my husband stuck his head in...saw the emergency and ran back to the van to throw it back together again so he could take them to the hosp. None of us had a phone back then...and their were no neighbors with a car either and the hosp was about 20 min away.


So there I was...this little "sleeping" angel on the floor in front of me...pandemonium all around me...one screaming mom and one sobbing mom...and all I wanted to do was get some breath into this little girl and give her a chance once she got to the hosp. I administered CPR for an untold amount of time...I have no idea how long it was as time meant nothing. It must have been awhile...enough to frustrate her mother that nothing was happening as she reached over and grabbed her child at some point and began putting clothes on her. I tried grabbing her back but the mother was focused now. My limited ability to get converse with her meant I couldnt explain what I was trying to do...and that it might take more effort to have affect. I was compeltely frustrated and felt utterly useless.


Put clothes on her girl and everything would be all right....seemed to be what the look on the mother's face was telling me. I tried taking her baby again but she glared at me and pushed me away...and I nearly fell backwards with my heavy belly wanting to tip me over. I looked down at her baby and felt so dreadfully sad for her and for a moment could only imagine what this mother was going through. I placed a hand on my own belly and said a silent prayer...both for this agonized mother and for myself and this unborn child.


I figured there would be no more chances to help her...and I felt the baby was long gone already...so I walked outside and just tried to calm my heart and breathe.


My husband came rushing over and into the house. A few moments later the two wives came out with the baby and got into the van and left with him. I felt like crying when I realized they had left the remaining children alone in order to take a dead child to the hospital...a child that was maybe dead due to some neglect they made her suffer. At this point all the children ran screaming out into the streets again...seemingly uncaring that one of their tribe was no more. I realize the younger ones wouldn't likely understand...but the older ones had no excuse to be so cold about it all. They were old enough to understand what death was all about...yet here they were....roughhousing and running about like everything was normal and ordinary. I wanted to scream at them...but I didn't...what purpose would it have served?


I walked back to my house and sat down on my front door step and just tried to think of nothing at all. My heart was heavy and my mind tried showing me again and again that little angels face...a face that would never smile again with a baby's cute smile...or eyes that would never twinkle again with baby like curiosity. I kept the tears at bay for at least an hour...until my husband came home and told me she was dead...and had been so for awhile. Apparently she had some slight heart problem and the doctors had told the second wife to make sure she was kept warm and to keep an eye on her breathing etc. Apparently the mom decided to give her baby a bath...in cold water...in the winter time no less. If that wasn't bad enough...she had left her NAKED for a period of time while she attended to something else.


That little girl didn't stand a chance against such ignorance and neglect.


I cried my heart out for that little girl then. I just sat there and cried until my eyes burned and my chest felt ready to explode. It seemed like such a WASTE of a precious little life. There was that family popping out kids like they were intent on populating the planet all by themselves...and had NO clue about how to care for children. I was sooooo damn upset that God could see fit to give UNFIT parents a child in the first place...not even one child...15(?) dams kids at that!!!


My husband got fed up and told me I was going to cause my own unborn child harm if I didn't quit crying and get a hold of myself...I didn't believe him...but I calmed down...tears don't fix anything...and they certainly don't turn back the hands of time. That baby was gone. The end.


Two thoughts remain with me about that experience. The second wife had another baby within a year...a little girl. She named that little girl the same as her first little girl. I found that rather upsetting and hard to swallow myself....but it wasn't up to me. That tribe of kids continued to grow and to run wild in the streets...there were many more accidents and near deaths in the years we lived next to them...they apparently didn't learn a thing. Poor kids.


Second thought...something that has plagued me with guilt all these years. My mind tells me that that little girl was dead already by the time I got to her and started CPR. The doctors also say she had been dead awhile...but I don't know how long they mean when they say "awhile"....so sometimes when I think about it...I think about how it was soooo damn noisy...and how I was trying to breath life into this little child that deserved it more than anyone else in that room at that moment...and I remember how I tried to listen to her chest...how I tried to drown out the sound of all that chaos and focus on a heartbeat...a breath sound...ANYTHING that would tell me she was responding....I tired so hard but then her mother grabbed her...and I could try no more. And I try NOT to think about how maybe...just maybe...there had been a faint heartbeat...a slight breath sound...a glimmer of a chance that would have turned into a full blown flame if I had tried harder...or if I had spent more time on her rather than her mother grabbing her away and snuffing out any chance there might have been.


I think about that....and I'm sad....but I'm angry as well. 23 years later and I see mothers here all the time very blase' about the safety of their children. Yes they love them. Yes they care for them...but do they think about their safety even for a moment? Small children alone in the streets tell me they don't. Very obese little children tell me they don't. Unseatbelted children tell me they don't. Children left alone at ages when NO mother should even consider leaving their child unattended tells me they don't. . Young children swimming alone...playing outside alone....waiting for the school bus early in the morning....alone. *sigh*


One more thing....the number of people in this country that DO NOT know how to administer basic CPR is staggering....by my own personal experience very few people even consider it something they need to bother about. Most people have no clue even what it means. Ive witnessed several instances and heard of others...in which CPR could have saved a life...but nobody around even knew enough about it to consider it an option as a life saving technique. My own oldest daughter stood by (she was around 12) while her best friends grandmother died in front of her...in a house FULL of people...and not ONE of them knew CPR to try and save her life until the ambulance could arrive (an ambulance that took forever to get there btw...another reason to learn CPR).


People are drowning at the beaches and swimming pools every year here in Bahrain...because people go into the water NOT knowing how to swim...and NOT bothering to have someone that can swim watch over them....and NOT having someone around that knows how to administer CPR if an emergency should require it. A little girl died from drowning in a family pool last year while all her family stood around and cried and beat their chests and wailed for God to save her...


depend on God...but tie up your camel...as the hadith goes. *sigh*


Learn CPR if you haven't all ready...you could save a life.

Out of the Pan...into the Fire!!!...pt 2

*sorry for the late post...life suddenly requires me to be on the GOOO constantly this past week...hate when that happens. Also I searched for an adequate pic for this post but didnt find what I wanted..so no pic...get over it already.


So there I was...tooling down the highway way after dark on my BMX bike not caring in the least that my immediate safety was in potential danger...but knowing full well that my safety back home was in serious doubt. Better the devil we know as they say...so on I rode...until suddenly out of the dark a police whoop whoop!! and flashing lights lit up the sky.


My adrenalin, which had waned somewhat with each mile that I thrust behind me...suddenly was on high octane once again. Nobody likes to see the police under ordinary circumstances...obviously this wasnt in the least ordinary.


I couldnt help but notice when they approached me that both had their hands situated in such a way that gunning me down should I prove to be a pain wouldnt be a problem (gulp!). I decided it would be prudent not to make any sudden moves...not easy to do when my heart was pounding literally out of my chest. Ouch!


At this point I might point out that my brain was full speed ahead searching for a reason which would require me to be out on the highway at night. To just breezily say I was out for a ride didnt quite sound legit to my ears...the ears of cops I figure are even a little more picky. Funny enough...it never occurred to me that just being out for a ride at night wasnt against the law in and of itself...but what did I know...I was a kid.


My mind was racing even while I considered running off into the dark...I was already mentally doing the zig zag run in order to make myself a harder target to hit...funny how cops make you feel guilty even when you havent done anything. Of course theres always the possibility that I DID do something...it is the cops mind you...I watch the news like everyone else. Innocent "suspects" get shot full of holes as often as hardened criminals right? Better just to stand there and keep my hands in plain sight...sigh.


Anyhow, one cop talked to me while the other cop searched the surrounding dark for my accomplices (bike gang?) or possibly for contraband I might have thrown out there when they arrived. About the only thing he was likely to find out there was my wayward heart that was violently shoved from my chest at the sound of the whoop whoop!!


It seems my appearance surprised them for several reasons. The report they received stated that a MAN was seen riding a bike...I was hardly a man and barely 17. Now they were even more interested to know why I was out on the highway at night...I had to come up with something fast...*think think*....aha!!! I had it.


"Im going to visit my sister. She lives in town," I stated sincerely. (if not slightly wobbly).


My sis did live in town but obviously had no idea I was on the way....on my bike no less.


The cop asked for her name and number and went back to the car. The other cop just kept looking at me then scanning the highway and roadside. Im guessing he was thinking NOBODY rides a bike on the highway at night unless they are up to no good...or running to something..or from something. He seemed like the sort that would find out one way or the other. I made sure I kept my bike between me and Officer Monk.


Other cop came back and said nobody was answering the phone at my sis's house. Thank God! I was rather happy for a change that my sis wasnt there to answer her phone...her all night party behavior sometimes paid off. Go Sis!!!


The cops must have decided I was the mythical "innocent until proven guilty" party and decided the best thing to do was take me the rest of the way into town. One of them lifted my bike into the trunk and the other bundled me into the back seat. The sound of the squad car door banging shut...and the fact that there was no handles and plenty of wire mesh etc made me cognizant of the fact that I might be innocent...but I was still "caught".


So I made small talk in an effort to convince them that I was as in no way smart enough to commit a crime...then stupid enough to make my get away on a bike on a major highway at night...wearing a Mickey Mouse shirt no less.


I babbled and tripped over my tongue on the most inane of topics...but I couldnt seem to shut up. I felt compelled to fill the silence with idiotic banter. I figured by the end of the car ride they might lock me up for causing them audio pain listening to my prattle. I still couldnt stop.


Suddenly I remembered I was going into the military soon...so I threw that out there in hopes that some camaraderie might be established. See Boys...Im almost one of you!!! More babbling and prattling...sigh. They didnt appear to be impressed. I had that affect on people back then.


It only took about 10 minutes to reach my sisters house. Apparently I rode my bike around 14 miles that night. Not bad considering it was a BMX with a very uncomfortable seat. I had a serious case of BMX rash by that time...owie!!!


Thankfully still when we arrived sis wasnt there. One of her stoner boyfriends came tripping out of the house before we were even completely stopped. I figured he was doing something illegal in there because he was never one eager to dash out and meet the cops..they usually had the opportunity to make his acquaintance after a lengthy "jog" through neighborhoods and parking lots.


It was a tense few moments while the boyfriend considered the fact that his girlfriends sis had arrived out of the blue with cops no less and was he about to go to jail (for whatever he was doing at that moment in the house of course)? and I figure the cops could read his situation and were considering whether what he was doing in the house was worth their time to investigate...or should they just take my word for it that all was kosher and be on their way....and I was wondering if I was literally going to see a shoot out up live and personal because I happened to know exactly what stoner boyfriend did with his spare time...and could guess what was going on in the house.


Things could get even more interesting before the night was done...however...the cops brought all that creative thinking to a halt when they called it a night and with one more warning to stay off the highways PERIOD while on my bike...they left....but with a few thoughtful looks thrown back over their shoulders before reaching their car...1 or 2 for me...5 or 10 for stoner boyfriend.


Realizing he wasnt in the clear just yet he was doing his best impression of complete innocence...but the hazy look in his eyes and slight swaying back and forth sort of ruined the whole effect.


With one final look back at the both of us...they slammed their doors and were gone.


Both of us gave simultaneous sighs of relief...for different reasons Im sure.


Boyfriend looked at me and said..."your sister isnt here".


Hey gee thanks...nice to see you too stoner-in-law...whatever.


Without answering him I was on my bike and headed out again...I had a destination in mind for real this time...cops or no cops I was back on the move.


*to be continued

Out of the Pan...into the Fire!!!...pt 1

(this is I-80 in Wyoming...not the one I rode my bike on but close enough)


Anyone that has read this blog for any length of time (thank you btw) will have realized by now that I came from a childhood home that, hindsight tells me, Im lucky to have escaped from with my life. No lie. Read this little adventure I had and tell me someone wasnt smiling on me that day (night).

My family lived on a farm of sorts the last two years I was in high school. It was situated about 17 miles outside of Rock Springs just off highway I-80. We were isolated and at the complete mercy of my insane father who kept us wondering on a moment by moment basis as to when his newest rampage would begin...and would we come out the other side with limbs and lives intact?

This farm had a tank in which we could haul clean water and fill it up to use in the house etc...or fill up with ordinary water for watering the animals or just day to day activities. For the longest time it was filled with sweet water so that we could drink directly from the tap in the house...as well as all other household needs.

Unknown to any of us the tank had formed a crack in one of its underground walls and therefore rainwater or whatever ground water there was had gotten into the well. My father knew this and had taken a sample to be analyzed to see if any impurities had gotten into the tank.

Apparently the answer was positive for impurities. Father did not bother to tell me this when I arrived home from school and went about my usual chores and preparing dinner. I also made a pot of coffee which was required to be made at all times in our house.

I had a feeling something was up though because he kept pacing around the house like a caged animal waiting for someone to get too close so he could lash out and strike...leaving torn skin and shredded nerves behind. I stayed well clear...I knew the potential for violence was never far away. Little did I know that the caged animal had me in his sights.

Finally my father stormed into the kitchen shoving some papers under my nose shouting about poisons and plots and how I was surely going to hell for trying to murder my own father...WTF!!! I desperately looked at the wall clock and realized my mother wouldnt be home for another hour or so. I was alone with a mad man.

A mad man who apparently thought I had tried to poison him though coffee made with tainted water. Water he didnt bother to tell me was tainted to begin with.

For the next half hour his anger and agitation grew more volatile with every new accusation of plotted murder and threats of sending me directly to hell. I was literally shaking in my shoes at this point. I had seen him go off on a wild rant before but this was something else entirely. Every few moments he would come charging back to me shoving the papers anew...spitting out numbers that were supposed to mean something to me about so much % of taint in the water...then he would start circling the house again. I would take that time to try and calm down and figure out my escape...for escape I knew was my only solution. He was on a true and straight course for violence...and the fact that he was whipping himself up into an ever greater frenzy left me feeling like I wouldnt live to see the sun come up much less my mother arriving home to calm things down.

I had to take action...no time like the present as they say.

I might mention that by this time my younger sister had arrived home from school and walked into a scene of impending domestic violence...she backed out into the driveway again without my father even realizing she was there. She knew how to lay low when it was called for. Of course this meant she was a witness to my get away.

The moment my father stalked off once again I was out the front door and taking my life into my hands in the only way I knew how...I grabbed my bike and hit the road. I might remind you that we lived off a major Wyoming highway....17 miles from town...and it was just reaching sunset.

I had nowhere to go...but I was damned if I was going to stay and willingly be hurt (or worse) by that man who had violence on his mind if there was something I could do about it.

I got on the highway and road like the hounds of hell were on my heels.

Some of you are probably thinking right now...how the hell could she even think about doing something like that? A long stretch of lonely highway...unknown potential predators behind the wheel of every car or semi that went by? Sun going down and miles between me and the next town. Believe me...not once did I even think about the dangers I was willingly riding into because the danger I was escaping held me in a grip of reckless abandon...better to escape the Monster I knew...then worry about the ones that might lay ahead of me.

Unknown to me...I would find out later...my mother had arrived home but obviously got a condensed and cleaned up version of what had been going on prior to my hitting the highway. Since my father didnt know my younger sister had been there...he assumed his story would be the only one that mattered. When sis told mom what Really happened...she called the police. Father apparently wasnt too worried about daughter on the highway at night...but mom was right on it!!!

However, once she called the police, father was all ears and full of fake concern. Remember he had already had a year in jail for accusations of killing my older sister (old post...cant link sorry) so he wasnt about to keep up his rampage when the cops were on the way...suddenly he was concerned father worried about his wayward daughter. Yeah...right

As well as waiting for the cops to show up my mother had gone down the road both ways thinking I hadnt gone very far...but by this time I was miles away headed for town. (wasnt sure what I was going to do when I got there...worry about that later)

Lucky for me (yeah lucky) I happened to be wearing a white tshirt...it had Mickey Mouse on it. Dont know why I remember that...but at least it showed up clear and bright on that dark stretch of highway...otherwise I could easily have been hit by any car or semi that went by. Unknown to me I had obviously been spotted by a few semi's that had gone by (nearly knocking me off the road anyhow with the blow back)...and someone thought it prudent to call the highway patrol. Whoever I was...I sure wasnt safe on the road at night on a bike.

Of course all this time my mother was freaking out back home...she also realized what bringing the police into it might do to our house...while the police were there father would be the epitome of domestic bliss...once they were gone...lets just say...you would hate to be us. When the cops arrived they gave a sanitized "teen upset so ran away" story as a cover. My mother was too scared to say what really had been going on. My father had that affect on us.

So here I was, black highway stretched before me. Only the occasional billboard to light the way. The sky was clear but the moon wasnt that bright. I could just barely see the road well enough to stay on it...all though the lights of passing cars helped...but the horn that they sounded now and then scared the crap out of me every time. To this day Ive often wondered why not even one car or semi stopped for me...with honest intentions of help or...ahem...something else....I didnt even get one slow down and shout out the window. Im absolutely positive that wouldnt happen here in Bahrain if the situation were the same.

On I rode. My back was killing me...not to mention my ass. I had visions of never being able to sit properly again....but on I rode. I never once considered turning around and going back. Fear kept my adrenaline on high octane.

Eventually the highway patrol caught up with me. Not the ones my mother had spoken too actually but ones that had gotten several call outs from passing semi's that had spotted me in the dark. These ones did not know who I was at the moment.

For some reason these men in blue (or is it brown for the highway) decided to come up RIGHT THE FREAK BEHIND ME before turning their lights on and hitting the WHOOP WHOOP!! of the siren.

To tell you that my heart nearly flew out my mouth as I barely kept myself from flying off the side of the road into the ravine running along side the highway hardly describes it. When I realized the cops had found me...I wasnt in the least happy to see them. All I could think about is that they were going to take me back home...he would make up some crap story about me being a bad daughter...they would leave with severe warnings to "behave myself and keep of the highways".

So I did what any kid would do in my situation...I lied to the cops.

*to be continued

Be Careful Washing Your Delicates!!!

For anyone that has ever visited the Middle East...or maybe just a predominately Muslim country....you will probably have seen bathrooms with these water hoses for washing up after. Most homes have them and quite a few commercial businesses etc will have them as well. They are a common enough commodity and used quite regularly by the native populations (not sure about the visitors etc).

Now one thing some people might not be aware of when using one of these thing is that the temperatures outside can decidedly affect the temps of the water you are about to wash your nether regions with...and that you have about 4 or 5 seconds of rather lukewarm liquid...before you are possibly scalded with some suddenly very hot water pointed directly at your most precious bits. It can be an extreme eye opener (not to mention scream inducer)..and peeing or anything else you were planning to do later in the day can be a very sensitive matter indeed.

One way around this is to not have your water tank on top of your house or building where the sun is busy boiling it all day long...easy if you own your home...not so easy if you rent etc.

Another option is to keep some tepid water handy in the bathroom just for such moments...nice if you dont have animals or small children that dont come along and spill it or play in it (or drink from it)...sigh!! If you place it up out of the way your likely to forget to bring it down BEFORE sitting down to take care of business...and then your left maneuvering yourself after the fact to get it while not...*ahem* ...dripping or something on your clothing. (dont laugh...it happens)

Anyhow, Summer is now fully upon us here in Bahrain...temps are in the high 35 to 37 degrees Celsius already...so that means the water is right up there in the too hot to handle during midday (no showers and dish washing for you wimps) (yes..that would be me) and seriously too hot for your nether regions to take without some serious repercussions.

Believe me...take my word on this...its not something you want to try out for yourself. Nuff said.

*I dont know why my paragraphs wont stay put. They are here when I type it out but disappear once its posted. Very frustraing. Grrr!!!

Surrounded by Water....but Still Cant Swim!!!

One of the oddest things I have come to learn about Bahrainis over this 23 years is that they seem to be a population of people living on an island...surrounded by water...and yet are ignorant of even the most basics of safety when it comes to enjoying the water.

Ive lost count of the number of drownings we have in Bahrain on a regular basis (at the beach, in swimming pools, even in buckets of water or washing machines etc for small children)...most of those drownings seem to happen because of little or no concern for personal safety or the safety of their own children. Small children drowning is a common headline in the local papers come every Summer. There have even been instances when children have drowned in water tanks that are on nearly every building in Bahrain. The fact that these tanks are left open...or that small children on are on the roofs of buildings in the first place never seems to come up when discussing who is at fault.

Anyhow, having said all that...here is my near drowning story that involves my own children and myself. (yeah I know...stop pointing fingers and all that)

Some years back before the stretches of beach along the road leading out to Hidds local beach were filled in and houses were built on reclaimed land...I would take my then young children to wade in the water nearer to my home...rather than all the way to the end where it was always more crowded etc. My oldest daughter at the time was around 12, my younger daughter was 6 and my youngest son was 2. The two older boys were 8 and 10.

I learned to swim from a very young age due to swim programs that were in effect every Summer where I grew up and the local YMCA...Ive never had fear of water and consequently cant understand people that do. If your afraid of the water...learn to swim...or stay away from it all together...believe me..."accidents" are waiting to happen.

It was a habit of mine to take my children to the beach on a regular basis and to take turns teaching one or the other to do the basics...paddling like a doggy to stay afloat or just floating on the back to rest etc were what I consider the basics. Each of my children had different learning curves...some I had to spend more time with...the others took to it right away. Because I had 5 children to keep an eye out for...whenever we were alone I always took them to an area of beach that had a very low water level...maybe just to the knees....or where they could basically float but not dive or anything. Perfect for lessons but no fancy swimming etc. Not to mention that I had instilled in them time and again NOT to venture out too far or too far away from me that I couldnt get to them if there was trouble...they had always been very good about sticking close to me.

Now generally when I take them to the beach to play I do not take the youngest one unless Im with friends or with the (ex) husband because I cannot watch him on the beach and watch them in the water on my own...but this trip to the beach was not for swimming lessons etc...it was just to wade in shallow water and let them cool off. I took them to an area that was barely to the knee at high tide. They all tumbled out of the van and raced down to the beach...I took my time getting the 2 year old and a blanket etc to sit and watch them. When I arrived at the waters edge they were all happily splashing not even 8 or 10 feet from the shoreline....and it was all shallow. So I turned my back and walked back up the beach to spread the blanket...away from the debris alongside the shore.

My 2 year old decided he needed to wander

back up the beach to the van so I went after him to bring him back. After I had gone just a few yards further my oldest daughter screamed out my name. Now Im sad to say I did not immediately pay attention to the alarm in her scream...with 5 kids playing there are always screams and shouts etc....mothers get pretty good at ciphering the screams from the ordinary play ones to the "somethings wrong" ones...but I was after the 2 year old...they were in 2 feet of water...and I wasnt paying attention...pure and simple.

I shouted back over my shoulder.."what?" but didnt turn to look as I was intent on reaching the 2 year old before he hit the hot tarmac of the parking lot.

Quickly she screamed again..."MOM!!!" ...but this time I turned and looked because her scream was cut off mid point...like someone had clapped a hand over her mouth. When I looked back down towards the beach all I could see were my two sons...the two girls were gone!!

You know sometimes when you look at something and its not making sense...and you try and understand it and make sense of it so that your brain can take it in and explain it to you? Do you know that feeling? My two girls should have been there...the water was only 2 feet deep...even if they sat down I would have been able to see them...their shoulders and heads above the water...but they were gone. I quickly scanned the beach up and down hoping for a second they had run off and were screaming in play chasing each other...nothing.

I looked back at my two boys and it was then I noticed they were both standing next to each other looking DOWN into the water....I ran....

When I reached the waters edge I quickly realized what had happened. There was a trench of some sort...maybe not even 6 or 8 feet across in width...but obviously deep...it wasnt even that far out in the water...I could see it from the waters edge...I could also see both of my daughters down in it struggling to come up for air. I immediately screamed at my sons to get back and to go get their brother who was still wandering up by the van.

I was intending to step near the edge of the trench and grab their arms or clothing..or even their hair if I had to to pull them to safety...however as soon as I came near the edge it gave way...and before I knew it I was plunging into the deep water right along with them. Because of the unexpected plunge I never had a chance to grab a lungful of breath...and because my daughters were panicking and suddenly had something to hang on to...ME....they quickly clung on to me trying to get up to the surface...I nearly drowned myself right then and there. Now I know how to swim...even with age and weight gain and inactivity for the most part Im a capable swimmer....but to suddenly be thrust into a position in which two drowning victims are viewing you as their only hope...their only chance...and with reason completely tossed to the winds because of fear and panic...my daughters were intent on dragging me down right along with them. (it was here that I realized just how it is that people who can swim often drown while trying to save others...funny the things that go through your mind at times like this...eh?).

I NEEDED some air...in order to save their lives I needed to save mine first. I did the only thing I could think of, I violently pushed them away in order to claw my way to the surface and gasp for some air. As soon as I reached the surface and with my second gasp of air I once again screamed at the boys who were still standing there to get back and go get their brother...then both my daughters clung to me again and I went down.

This time I was more prepared and took a lungful of breath...I grabbed their clothing with both hands and shoved them to the surface...as far as I know that was their first breath in minutes? seconds? moments? ...I dont know...time has a funny way of slowing down at times like that. Then I needed air again so pushed my way to the surface.

The agonizing thing about this whole drama was that we were in fact quite possibly going to drown not 8 feet from shore...in water that for the most part was barely 2 feet deep...while I was caught up in the moment of trying to prevent my daughters from drowning me...while also trying to save them...I also had time to think about my 2 year up on the beach wandering alone...possibly headed for the nearby highway...I had time to think of my two older boys that might try and help and step into the trench as well...I had time to think that if we did in fact drown...how would anyone know...what would my boys do...who would save them? All of this was roaring through my head and all the while I was trying furiously to think of a way to get, not one, but two drowning victims to safety.

Talk about hectic...I would say you "just had to be there" but I wouldnt wish that experience on anyone.

Now when all was said and done it turns out maybe not even 5 minutes passed from the time I entered the water until I manged to shove them one by one close enough to the edge for the older brother to grab some clothing and help the younger one out...then the older one managed to climb out since she had was able to calm down sufficiently to think rationally..(it could have been longer but I wasnt wearing a watch so not real sure) ...but it felt like a century or more had passed during that brief spell...and it felt like the whole world had disappeared and us and our little drama was all that mattered.

I realized by the third time I went up for air that I wasnt going to last much longer...I was fat and out of shape...suddenly thrust into a perilous situation...and asking more of my body then it was use too...if I didnt do something quick it would be too late for me...and probably my daughters as well....so the next time I struggled to the surface I screamed at my older daughter to let go of me...and I let go of her (its the hardest thing in the world to do to let go of a child when they need you...but when you have two children that need you...its a feeling quite like no other...in a moment of extreme chaos and confusion...I had to make the choice of which daughter to let go and which one to help to safety...its not easy...dont ask me what criteria I used to make that choice...I seriously dont know)...

She immediately let go of me and I was able to maneuver my body, grab my younger daughter properly...and basically shove her up and over to the edge...before going under again...my son grabbed her clothing and she struggled out. As soon as I struggled once again to the surface my older daughter once again clung to me...but had calmed down considerably now that her sister was out of the water...I was able to help her to the edge and we both managed to haul ourselves out.

To this day Im not real sure how we got out of that trench...the sides just dropped off...no slope or anything...but we did...thats the important thing.

Once we were all out and I had once again shouted at my son to go catch his brother...who was thankfully playing in the sand near the van...and I stood there heaving, trying to catch my breath...feeling as if my heart was either going to just stop working...or explode into pieces in my chest. I might add here that at the time of this incident I was wearing hijab and the required long sleeves and loose clothing that the culture requires women to wear...even when swimming at the beach...and I must say that extra clothing was detrimental to me at that time...it weighed me down and tangled up my legs...not to mention my hijab covered my face more than once acting like a barrier between my mouth and a lifesaving mouthful of breath...I would seriously caution women against swimming with all that clothing on...but then again...I know they will...its a burden they must bear to preserve modesty...to hell with safety.

Anyhow, I remember just standing there...catching my breath...my children crying and freaked out...and I just screamed at them....THATS WHY YOU LEARN HOW TO SWIM!!!

I gathered them all up and went back home...soaking the inside of the car with our wet things...not bothering the change...and surprising the (ex) husband with our early return. Turns out we hadnt even been gone half an hour. I could have punched him in the nose when he actually had the nerve to laugh when I gave him a brief rundown of what had just happened. He didnt take it serious at all....maybe I didnt tell it right...WE ALMOST DROWN ASSHOLE!!! whatever...sigh!

After that all my children put more effort into learning to swim and are pros at it...except for my oldest daughter...who has never been able to put her head under the water agains since that time. She wont even relax enough to float on her back. She is petrified of water now...will cling to the side of the swimming pool with a floaty grasped tightly in her hands...nothing I say will convince her to give it another try.

I hope there are no drownings this Summer here in Bahrain...but alas..I fear there will be. People dont respect the water and what it can do. They dont look for dangers and give little regard for the pull of the tide. Considering they are a pearling culture which has strong ties to the water...I find this odd.

But then again...when it comes to personal safety...I find Arabs in general are pretty lax about the whole thing....even when it comes to their children.

btw I have never taken my children to the beach alone again since that time. I do learn my lessons...some quicker than others...sigh!!!