Their Remains: A Weekend Story of 7 Men

By Mona Salem Rashed

Seven men in Kuwait decide to spend a long weekend at one of their farmhouses. They go to the south where the farm is in two cars. The second group faces a bad traffic because of a car accident and change the road to the farm. They lose their way and find themselves in front of an old farmhouse when their truck suddenly stops there. The owners of the house invite them to come inside, and there they encounter a weird, unexpected world that takes them away from where they want to be and bewilder them to the core.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Jan 24, 2013
• ISBN: 9781481781855

Mona Salem Rashed

I love writing and drawing. I have studied English literature and language in my BSC and MA because I love this field and because it stirs my imagination. I always write down ideas that come to my head wherever I might be. I also read a lot, all the time. I love to hear stories from others in my country and outside when I am traveling. One of the things that push me to write is moving and traveling to near and far places from Kuwait. It gives me ideas and experience to write and describe all what I see and hear. On the other hand, my personal experiences that I encounter in my life drive me to present them in words whether in fiction or in poetry. I met a lot of people in my travels, and I wrote about my experience with them. Sometimes I read about places and cultures, and I do my best to travel to them. As I live in Kuwait, in the south of Kuwait, all my life, I love the culture there, which is a mixture between the Kuwaiti and the Saudi cultures. I love to read and hear stories about the history and culture of the south. This is the reason why I chose to write a story about it. A story that took place in Wafra, one of the major farm cities in the south. It is a mixture of faith and superstitions. The story touches a big part of me because it pulls me back to the childhood world of colors and wild imagination and bed stories and my mom’s lullabies for me before I sleep. A world that accompanied me till this age and later, I expect. To make good literature, I think that one needs a vivid imagination first, a heart of a child second, a beautiful colorful language third, and an ocean of emotions last, but not least.

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© 2013 by Mona Salem Rashed. All rights reserved.

Author Credits: An Instructor in The Language center - Kuwait University

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 01/10/2013

ISBN: 978-1-4817-8178-7 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4817-8184-8 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4817-8185-5 (e)

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Faisal, Humood, Saif, Khalid, Abdulwahab, Sulaiman and Mubarak had decided to spend the holiday of Al Isra’a and Al Mera’aj (the night when Prophet Mohammad was taken up to Heavens and returned at the same night) in Faisal’s farm especially the two days holiday came right before Friday and Saturday, the official weekend in Kuwait. A four-day-holiday in Kuwait inspires you to do many things; therefore, a lot of people go camping in the desert, spend a good time in the chalets or farms, make parties or simply stay home and do personal plans.

The seven men decided to go on two groups; Faisal, Saif and Mubarak made the first group, while Humood, Khalid, Abdulwahab and Sulaiman filled in the second one. Men are usually easier to set rules and agree on plans than women. Therefore, it was agreed that the second group goes to the supermarket for grocery supplies and get any extra needs for the farm; whereas the first group goes straight forward to the farm, cleans and prepares it for the four-day-rest. The two servants in the farm were the guards and servants at the same time since they were the only people would stay at the farm constantly.

A late autumn day in Kuwait is a beautiful pleasant day. It not chilly cool at day time, nor is it freezing cold at night. You might need a leather jacket with a cotton T-shirt underneath if you want to talk a walk at night. If you drive during the day, the warm sun hits the cool soft winds and you get this funny feeling of a shiver in the warm weather. It is only another way to smile, maybe laugh of a crazy feeling.

Faisal and his companions reached the farm first, got out of the car and started work inside. Faisal assigned tasks to the helpers with numerous thoughts and ideas in his head. He wanted to take the best of the short vacation; no headaches, no arguments, no unneeded troubles. Mubarak, a tall chubby man with a darker skin in his mid twenties, was walking around, cheering his friends to finish work because he was starving. And although Faisal told him more than once to be fair and help them in doing something, he would only smile and indulge himself in light work for a few minutes then refrain from doing anything, just whining about food. Saif was working silently, and seemed to be driven away from the others. The young man appeared to swim in a river of his own; taken away with something in his head. He was a tall slender man with a bronze-touch skin and brown eyes. He was as well in the second half of his twenties. His beautiful eyes revealed a kind of disappointment, and showed a cloud of sadness you would not miss. It was the second month that he was enduring life without his beloved girlfriend who had left him for another man. He was moving the furniture with one of the Indian helpers, and recalling her last show up. She would speak in a bored way, reluctant and empty inside;

I think we are finished! There is nothing more to add or do in the relation. You are a great guy, and most girls in Kuwait would love to be with you. I know that for a fact, but I am not sure there is anything more left between us. He replied with his beautiful brown eyes glittering like they always did; So, you are saying that it finishes right here? No completion; no possible mending for the relation? She answers with a void inside; Umm, I’m not sure. I don’t know. Don’t push me any further! Don’t ask for things I cannot give! It’s finished. We are finished maybe without us knowing about it. I felt it though! No! We are not finished; you have finished everything to do with me just to be with that guy! His name is Yusuf, right? I asked and checked and knew everything. You cheated on me and still you are trying to blame me for the bad end. She looked at him with no more words to say. She wished that a phone rings to be able to escape the situation. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I pushed it towards you!" the Indian helper was over apologizing to his master’s friend as he wanted to put the piece of furniture down. It was a love seat piece of furniture that was heavy and fluffy.

When you are in Kuwait in the late fall, winter and spring, time passes happily and beautifully. You can always rest and enjoy life around you. Friends and family are always available, and places to go are a lot. Faisal said that he was going to take a shower, and asked the guys to check on the others. Anyone would do the call. It was needless to know that Mubarak got the phone saying that about two hours of working in the neat farm was more than enough. Saif agreed with him and thought that the two-hour-time should be enough for the other guys coming in the way to get the supplies, hit the road and be almost near the farm.

Salam Alaykum! Where are you at Humood? Mubarak struck him with his usual laughing tone. Wa Alaykum Al Salam Mubi! We are just ten minutes away from you. We’ll be at the farm before you notice!

In this time of the year, the roads to desert camps, chalets, farms and other resorts are always crowded. After a long, boiling hot 4 months of summer—starting from May ending in August together with a fairly hot September—people just want to escape the cement containers where they hide in from the heat. Air-conditioned houses become the heaven refuge for hundreds thousands of Kuwaitis who don’t leave the country in the long steaming summer season. Therefore, the minute the heat kisses the Kuwaiti soil goodbye, the happy nation opens the door and scatters around celebrating the end of ugly summer.

When the black Dodge Ram truck turned the road to take the way leading to the farm, they had to stop suddenly because they saw a traffic jam in front of them. The police was there, and dozens of cars were accumulating on the road with more yet to come at the back. The normal reaction in such a situation came out from the guys instinctively. They shook their heads, mumbled with upset, and un-intentionally came up with an action. Sulaiman rolled down the window from the back seat of the four-seat-truck and stretched his head to see what was going on. Soon, everybody on the scene knew the traffic reason. There was a car accident blocked the road. Three cars hit each other, ending up with a T shape on the asphalt. Humood quickly said that he was going to call the rest at the farm to tell them about the accident and that they might be little late. The police stopped the car rush. Like what everyone would do in such a situation, some cars started moving away from the crowded road, taking another one. Humood said that he should call the people waiting there. He reached out for his cell phone, dialed the number and spoke in an apologetic tone to the other party; Faisal, I’m really sorry, but there is a car crash on the road. We need to take another way to come over. We might need little more time, but I can’t tell you how long. If you are hungry guys, go ahead and have lunch! Faisal’s voice came accepting the fact: It’s all right guys, I’m not that hungry, nor is Saif. I tell you, it is Mubarak who might be starving as usual, so he might start before us! Humood giggled shortly and promised not to take a long time.

The truck drove on a parallel road which should lead to the area where the farm and neighboring farms were. Some short dwellings appeared on the side of the short cut way they took seemed odd to the driver. Humood thought that he had not seen those farm houses before, but he kept the thought to himself. Sulaiman, who was sitting at the back seat of the black vehicle, commented loudly: Are you sure Humood we are going the right direction? The driver was about to utter something like; I don’t know yet but he held it at the last moment. He didn’t want to sound unsure, or hesitant. He should act as a collected leader of a group. Abdulwahab, sitting at the passenger seat, replied to Sulaiman; Yes we are. When was the last time you came here Salam? Or have you ever come here at all? He ended up his question with a giggle. Sulaiman looked and at him and spoke with a slight nervous tone; Hey! I often come here. It is a short cut to my uncle’s farm! Humood interrupted the potential argument; Guys! Guys stop! This is a holiday we are trying to enjoy. It is just a road that we are taking to go to our friends. Silence for a moment then he resumed; Umm, I guess Sulaiman has a point Wahab. I, too, had the same suspicion about the general structure here and the old houses. I have been in the area before, but I don’t remember I saw them before. Or maybe they were always there, but I didn’t take any notice!

For more than two hundred years, Wafra has been always a good land for farms. It is located in the very south of Kuwait and has ground water and better soil than the rest of the yellow, stony desert-natured soil of Kuwait. In the past, 60 years ago and backwards, the area had a cooler weather in summer, longer spring seasons that would last for more than a month. Also, tress scattered in the area like a normal damp area. People had moved into this part of Kuwait even before modern Kuwait was settled more than 2 centuries ago. In the recent times, Wafra has been a refuge for retired Kuwaitis to