The Poetess Who Embraced Goodness

She is a princess among women and a princess among poets. Since her childhood, she was called the "Mother of Goodness." She was nurtured in her mother’s kitchen and guided by her father’s wisdom. She was chosen while she was still young by a man of significant stature, as she described, to be his wife; he became a husband, brother, and father to her, creating a unique world that belonged to her. The journey of Dr. Suad Al-Sabah, may God prolong her life and her cultural activities, points to a distinctive human condition characterized by diligence, effort, self-building, and a revolutionary poetic state that is rare among poets, alongside a unique commitment to publishing and honoring the distinguished in the literary community. Moreover, she is a daughter of Kuwait and has celebrated her sea and sands more than anyone else. Her academic pursuits began with the encouragement of her husband, Abdullah Al-Mubarak, who would tear up with joy whenever she attained an academic degree, inspiring her to write poems about him. I had heard of her without ever seeing her, and the first thing I read was an economic analysis of hers in the Al-Anbaa newspaper; she is an economics graduate, yet poetry has accompanied her since childhood with a passion for reading. After a while, I began to delve into her poetry; the work inside the newspaper can distract a journalist from literary activities outside the office, often flattening the poet journalist’s voice, as their poetic phrases could be merely turned into statements in an article. One year, I noticed that someone who called himself a critic would quickly publish an article criticizing any poet or writer he heard was visiting Kuwait, as if challenging them for the sake of fame, targeting literary figures. The news spread that the great poet Nizar Qabbani would visit Kuwait, and this critic emerged to attack him, not from a critical literary standpoint, but rather for not practicing what he preached regarding revolution and criticism of the Arab oppression and disappointment. I wrote in response that Qabbani does not position himself as a leader of revolution or a warrior, but rather as a poet; if he writes, he speaks with the voice of the people, and that is sufficient. If he sings, he speaks as a lover, for he is only in love with Bilqis, whom he loved and married. By coincidence, Qabbani visited Kuwait and came to Al-Watan newspaper, and I was surprised to learn that he was asking about me to thank me for my defense of him; he said Dr. Suad Al-Sabah informed him of that. After that, Dr. Suad began regularly writing various social and political reflections, choosing the "Thursday Pause" in Al-Watan newspaper, and she sent me her articles, which were brief and expressive. I published them and began receiving invitations to attend her poetry evenings in Kuwait. At that time, I was in my beginnings as a poet, but when I got a job at Al-Watan newspaper and had previously published a poem titled "The Blood Symphony" that stirred unexpected reactions among readers, Mr. Mohammed Khaled Khatma, the managing editor of Al-Watan, summoned me and said, "Is this your poem?" I replied, "Yes." He continued, "You could become famous if you continued with poetry, but if you want journalism, forget poetry." I said, "Forget it? I want bread, not poetry." To be fair, Mr. Khatma had a significant impact in pushing me forward, along with Mr. Mohammed Musaed Al-Saleh; from the former, I learned modern journalism, and from the latter, I learned how to be concise in writing articles and to end them with a sarcastic or poignant sentence. After my expulsion from Kuwait, along with other journalists, and the imposition of censorship on newspapers, and the dissolution of the National Assembly, I went to Cairo to the Al-Qabas office. There, I also met Dr. Suad when she came to the Cairo Book Fair and then to an economic conference. She is a Nasserist nationalist like her husband, Sheikh Abdullah Al-Mubarak. I left Cairo in 1977 to complete a book about the 20-year mark of the occupation. During that time, the intifada erupted, and I remained there specializing in writing diaries of the intifada for Al-Qabas. I was arrested in April 1988, and while I was dressing with soldiers around me in my bedroom, I whispered in my wife's ear, without there being a gathering at that time, just in case they deported you: "If the world closes in on us, just call Dr. Suad." After my release, I was banned from traveling until the onset of 1990. I returned to Cairo and found it an opportunity to complete a book about the peculiarities of the martyrs I encountered during the intifada. I prepared the book for publication and thanked in its introduction the generous Arabian date palm, Dr. Suad, who donated the cost of publishing it in Amman. I then headed to Amman to give a lecture at the Shuman Foundation in mid-July 1990, and I gave the publisher the draft of the book and the printing fee. It was titled "The Blood of the Intifada" with a cover chosen from the creations of the immortal Naji Al-Ali. Then I returned for a few days to the West Bank and contacted Al-Qabas requesting an extension of my leave until the end of the month, and I was told, "No, take as much time as you want; the situation here is tense." Indeed, it was tense. On the morning of August 2, which was also my birthday, we woke up to the invasion of Kuwait, and we felt as if we were in a nightmare. I imagined the situation of Dr. Suad, who was more than just a nationalistic revolutionary poet; her husband devoted his life to serving their nationalism and Kuwait, rising above trivial matters. Together, they contributed to the Egyptian war effort since 1967, supported the Palestinian revolution, and contributed to the war effort in the Iraq-Iran war. They found themselves victims of those they aided. How painful betrayal is, and how difficult it is to maintain a pan-Arab feeling during times of regression. I must say that the book did not receive widespread readership as it was published in early August, and I only received one copy later. The book "The Blood of the Intifada" went unnoticed at that time, just as the cause has now been disregarded.