by Jim Carroll
We knew Esau still had connections with the bank, but he turned out to be more influential than we suspected. We soon learned he had been installed on their board of directors. Now there was no question about the origin of the bank action.
To no one’s surprise the investigation of the Ministry of Finance was swift, cursory, and without effect. They announced that the ministry had evaluated the action from a financial standpoint and conferred with the Justice Ministry to determine its legality. The finding of the two ministries was that the bank’s action had been completely within their right as a private financial institution.
The Al Ahli Bank action took the small Kuwaiti Christian community by surprise. In order to save those who couldn’t pay off the loans, those who were able paid the debts for them. The selfless response of those who gave out of their own funds actually had the effect of bringing the Kuwaiti Christians closer together. In this respect the Al Ahli Bank action had the exact opposite result from what Esau intended. In addition, many Kuwaiti Christians suddenly became debt-free and more trusting in their brethren than ever before.
Those close to the situation confirmed that Esau Allison was responsible for the bank’s course. In the absence of the Times reporting the names, the list of the Christians appeared on the bank’s website, thus exposing them. But most alarming was the fact that the bank even knew the names of the Kuwaitis who were Christians. How had this information become available? Why had such a list even been made? The financial aspects were important, but the real risk was the fact that Islamist elements in the community might feel compelled to act violently on that information.
When I saw that the names were listed, I knew instantly that the information had been obtained by invasion of personal e-mail accounts. The one who had the greatest access to these accounts was Esau Allison.
Three days later the newspaper reported that a Kuwaiti family, a man and his wife and their three children, had been run off the road and killed by an unknown assailant in a gray Ford F-250 truck. There were few other details in the report, but those in the Christian community knew they were fellow believers: Their names had been listed on the Al Ahli Bank site. A week later ISIL claimed credit for the killings, and concern among Kuwaiti Christians rose to a new level. Our potential threats were now physical in addition to financial.
My father took the responsibility on his own shoulders. He rose in church the next Friday. He was stooped in his posture. “My loved ones, I want you to be cautious and vigilant. There are wolves tracking us. We’ve lost a brother, sister, and their children.”
Due to the new indications that ISIL was active in Kuwait, the U.S. Embassy in Kuwait raised the alarm with their State Department, and an additional detachment of Marines was sent to the embassy. This action failed to encourage the Kuwaiti citizenry, as the insertion of various levels of U.S. intervention into other areas of ISIL activity, such as Iraq, Syria, Libya, and Tunisia, had achieved little or nothing and likely made their situations worse. The thinking among most Middle East observers was that ISIL actually benefitted from American attempts at countering their actions. Even though ISIL had lost considerable territory, gone were Mosul and Raqqa, they were now a mobile force.
On the morning of June 6, 2021, ISIL combatants, identified by observers because of their black flag, armed with .50 caliber automatic weapons, mounted on three black Toyota Tacoma pickups, attacked the small Kuwaiti military outpost at Wafra near the Saudi border. Small arms fire continued for two hours. The Kuwaiti detachment had sufficient weaponry to stave off the attack, and the vehicles were repelled, but four Kuwaiti soldiers were killed. The Bedouin farmers were frightened by the battle at their doorstep, and for two days their sheep and goats wandered without responsible herding.
The contingent of U.S. soldiers was quietly increased at Camp Doha on the outskirts of the city, but there was no clear plan to confront the threat. The nature of the menace was not clear.
Rumors circulated among us that Esau was somehow near the center of criminal activity in the community. The board of directors of Al Ahli Bank moved to dismiss Esau from the board, and there was temporary relief among the Christian community. But the respite was short-lived. Esau had enough well-off supporters for the bank’s attempt at his dismissal to be defused. When he passed us on the Gulf Road in his Ferrari F12, he looked pointedly at me and smiled. What did he plan next? Why didn’t he just use physical violence against us? What malevolence was greater than what we had already seen?
Esau quit his position at the Al Bader Trading Company and opened his own computer-consulting firm. He was a determined and ruthless avenger, moving from victim to victim. The idea that Esau would have such significant computing power at his disposal was anathema to the Kuwaiti Christian community. If indeed it was Esau’s intent to ferret out Christians and their proselytizing, then he now had the tools to do so.
Given that Esau had ties to both ISIL and ultra-conservative Islamist groups in Saudi Arabia, he was considered the most visible threat to the Kuwaiti Christian community. He had already informed me explicitly of his intent. Because he had spoken to me directly on the matter, I considered it my responsibility to take up the challenge, but I was at a loss to the method. However, I was not helpless. Esau may have had power, but so did I: power – intelligence, skills, and determination to combat him. This was my task and mine alone. I would do what was necessary. Or so, I thought.
I didn’t want to go outside my father’s authority, so I asked him about the next steps. He was far ahead of me. Once more we sat in the garden of our Ahmadi home, still enjoying my mother’s garden and the placid spirit remaining there.
“Papa, you’re correct about Esau. He’s set himself up as the kingpin here in Kuwait against Christians. It seems like he’s doing it all by himself.”
“Yes, but that’s only part of the problem. He has the backing of Kuwaiti Islamist groups and ISIL. They’re active on many fronts and no one knows what they intend to do here in Kuwait. Perhaps it’s only minimal or perhaps they intend to move into the area in full force, just like they did in Syria, Iraq, Libya and Yemen. ISIL has confronted Christian groups before, but the Christians melted away. We have no place to retreat.”
“If retreat is not an option, what do we do?”
“First, Yusef, you must know in your heart that the Lord is with you. That’s the key.” I had no response. I understood the principle my father stated. My question was: What can I do? Of course the Lord was with us. He empowered me, gave me a mission to fulfill. But did I not have to shoulder this responsibility myself anyway? My inner conflict grew, and outwardly…
Our fears were confirmed: Esau did have ties to ISIL-connected groups. What he intended to do with these connections was not yet revealed, but we would at least be aware in advance through Binyamin’s computer encroachment into Esau’s system. My own fears, however, were not quelled by these small victories. I didn’t know what to expect from the Lord. My mother’s psalms reminded me of sure refuge. “O Lord my God, in you do I take refuge; save me from all my pursuers and deliver me” (Psalm 7:1). But my refuge was still my own skills, and I expected the worst.
And then there was Esau’s Iran connection, which was so far known only to me. Although we had physically removed him from Iran, questions about his contacts there remained. And the bomb? Where was it?
ISIL attacks from the south continued for nearly a year, well into 2022. Only Al-Jazeera reported these attacks. All subsequent battles took the same form, and it was clear to the people and the government that the motivation was anti-Christian. The beach houses which they sacked along the southern coast just north of Nuwaiseeb were all owned by Christians. The government was in no position to adjust the political aspects of the discussion. Any attempt to do so would result in the country giving into either the Islamist or the Christian elements. Additionally, the effectiveness of the Christians, led by my half-brother Thawab, in serving in defense of the country was impossible to ignore. Finally, th
e ISIL forces stopped their attacks and moved on to other Gulf countries where similar events were taking place. By this time the new Pence administration had negotiated a peace agreement between Hamas and the Israelis, and world news was deflected from the Gulf’s troubles. Growth of the Gulf Christian community became our primary focus.
I dreamed an unlikely dream, that Jesus would sweep the Gulf. I saw churches filled with Arab converts, heard old Western hymns sung to Arab rhythms. Charles Wesley would have been shocked by the oud with its differing scales. When I awoke I denied the possibility, even knowing what I had seen in Kuwait. In fact, the process was well underway even as I negated the dream. I should have considered our recent successes in my thoughts, but political events in Kuwait swept me up before I grasped their significance. Why was I so slow in seeing God’s plan? What part of me blocked my vision of the Big Picture? Was it my sin, my unbelief, or simply ignorance?
CHAPTER 16
DISASTER REDUX
Another call from Esau, never a good omen for the next event. “Meet me tonight at seven – at the Mais Alghanim. Reserve a table for four. I’m bringing wives.” Click, end of contact. I obeyed, but I didn’t subject my family to knowledge of the ordeal.
Seven in the evening at the restaurant, on the second floor, no Esau. His technique of being late to elevate anxiety had played out with me, and I sat drinking tea, nodding periodically to the waiter indicating the nearing appearance of my guests. I knew he’d arrive eventually.
At 8:30 the trio finally appeared. His two wives wore the traditional Bedouin garb of black abaya and niqab. The flowing abaya concealed any evidence of their form, and the niqab covered their faces except for the eyes, which were heavily made up with mascara and eye shadow. This Kuwaiti attire was much the same as the chadors they had worn in Iran. Their eyes were almost black, dazzling. Esau introduced me to Almira and Laleh, who spoke to me for the first time in English, both with a British accent.
Almira began, “Yusef, are you glad to see us again? We see you didn’t bring your friends this time.” A little sarcasm.
Laleh joined her. “Do you think you can manage us by yourself?” And then a giggle.
Their voice inflections were soft without a hint of anger, and their eye contact, normal. Here we were, a quiet foursome conversing in a big restaurant across Gulf Road from the sea, reading an extensive menu of Lebanese dishes, for all appearances friends who had no serious past and an agreeable future. Then falafel, hummus, and tabbouleh. They all chose lamb kofta for their meat dish.
Due to their verbal expression and relaxed manner in what I thought for them was a novel situation, and their familiarity with foods other than Persian, I wondered who these women really were. Where were they from? Surely they were not the religious dupes of the Persian theocracy I had expected. And why the connection to Esau and his plan, whatever it was? Had they been merely posing as Basij in Tehran?
“You’re wondering about the reason for our little gathering, and admiring my wives, Almira and Lelah, aren’t you?” Esau leaned back in chair, smiled vaguely, stroking his beard. At least he didn’t laugh at me. “You must know by now that they’re British.” I had no response. “Well, here is a bit more information for you. This is bigger than Kuwait and bigger than Iran. There are others too, who are sick to death of the religious skullduggery here in your Middle East, every brand of it.” He pulled himself forward in the chair, leaning on the arms for support. “We’re against all of you – Christians, Muslims, both Sunni and Shia, and of course the Jews, but they’re too few to count. You and your ilk are responsible for all the evil in the world. Anything you don’t like, you identify as sin.” He kept his voice low, which made it somehow all the more threatening. His wives were silent. “By your saying you’re opposed to sin, you’ve created it. There is no sin. There’s only self-interest. And my interest, our interest, is getting rid of all you religious flunkies.” He covered his mouth so he wouldn’t be overheard or lip read. “We have a growing group, based in Britain, which has the same goal.”
The hummus and kibbeh arrived, and the Philippine waiter filled our tea cups.
“We’re funded by the Russell Civilization, a name we keep to ourselves for security. We use Bertrand Russell as our icon, a model of one who rejected all religion.”
“There was much more to Russell than that. It’s not fair to his memory.”
“Do you think we’re concerned about his memory? We take the money if his followers give it, and they don’t understand what we’re all about anyway.” The three, in unison, leaned back from the table after their last remark. The main dishes arrived, and they dived in. I didn’t feel like eating.
“I’m sure you can see, my brother, that all this is far from over.” Then, no more information during the meal. My three companions finished up with baklava while I had a Turkish coffee. Then, they rose and departed, leaving me with the bill.
Only outside in the carpark did I learn more. Esau was waiting by my car, his two wives were already in the front seat of his Mercedes. “Yacoub, this is the part I avoided in the closeness of the restaurant. Your bomb is here in Kuwait now. You’ll hear soon what we need from you. Good night.” With that, he drove off.
CHAPTER 17
PAYING THE PIPER
I didn’t get it. How could God do this? Was He doing this to me as punishment for my sin in helping Iran get a bomb? Was I important enough to matter this much? How could Esau get back in the picture so cleanly, and with the bomb again? Surely there were connections in Iran I did not know. What was Esau’s real goal? Was it financial gain or was he telling the truth with all that anti-religious talk? Sooner or later, there must be a price to pay. I had no answers.
The bill was delivered in two days via a means I hadn’t considered. A courier from the Emir arrived at our villa in Ahmadi at 7 p.m. with a message commanding me to come to the palace the next morning. My thoughts went back to myself: likely he wanted to commend me for my brave sojourn in Tehran, a Kuwaiti citizen who had risen in triumph over the oppressor. It was about time. The story of my life: a hero without an heroic act.
I arrived at the Seif Palace at 9 a.m., and was ushered through a series of intermediaries, each at a higher level, until we reached a small sitting room where the ancient Emir Sabah sat, an attendant by his side. The attendant helped Sabah rise on his cane, and I gave the customary kiss on each cheek, whereupon the ancient Emir collapsed back in his chair and with a sigh dismissed the attendant. No others were present.
He motioned for me to pull my chair near to him as he gave me permission to sit. “Young man, you had yourself quite a time during your Persian so-called incarceration. Depending on how you handle your current misadventure, you may receive a state medal. But that is only one of several possibilities.”
“Thank you, your Highness.”
He looked at me directly and didn’t speak for a moment. My proper response to what might be a threat?
“My young friend, I have, via diplomatic courier, received a letter from the head of the Iranian Ministry of Economic Affairs and Finance, Karim Khadim. It seems you were involved in complex interactions during you stay in Iran.” He leaned back in his chair, awaiting my reply.
“My time there was difficult, filled with choices I didn’t want to make.” No more admission than necessary.
“Well, it seems so. Let me read: ‘To the honored Emir of the State of Kuwait, Sabah Al-Ahmad Al-Jaber Al-Sabah: In the name of Allah, I regret I must inform you of the dishonest and illegal activities of one your citizens, Yusef Al-Tamimi. Mr. Al-Tamimi, while an honored guest in our country, procured a nuclear weapon for nefarious and illegal use. He operated in this endeavor with one Esau Allison. I do not know the location of this weapon in question, but you should concern yourself that it may be in your lovely and worthy country.’”
I fell back in my seat, lips numb. “It seems, Yusef, that we have reached an impasse that only you can breach.”
My mind whirred. Khadi
m again. Even in Tehran, I had wondered about his seeming lack of knowledge about the missing bomb. How could he fail to know? The answer was now clear: He had known from the beginning.
“I want an answer from you within two weeks. You may leave.” My role defined itself. The Lord had thrust me into something too difficult for me.
I had to contact Khadim. I booked a flight on Kuwait Airways the next day. On arrival at Khomeini airport, I took the taxi directly to Saleh Hosseini Street and proceeded to Khadim’s office. No time to delay. His assistant, sitting outside his office, recognized me. Was I expected? I was ushered in to see Khadim without delay.
Papers strewn over the office, desk and floor, cigarette hanging from his lips, tie and shirt collar open, all common characteristics for Khadim. He glanced up from his computer. “What took you so long? Let’s get to it.”
What was the “it”?
“Surely you didn’t think Allison could get the bomb all by himself. We’re partners, Esau and I, and now you’re the third.” This was already far worse than I thought it would be.
It was then I pulled out the thumb drive, the one I had kept recording his illegal transfers from all the bond disposals. He plugged it in his computer, paled, and gave the drive back to me. “I’m sure you have other copies. Otherwise you’d be headed back to Evin. Hear me out though first. I’m no more a Muslim than you are. I’m just like Esau – antireligious. Yes, you can hurt me with your little thumb drive, but think of what I may do to you.”