Posted on Thu, Oct. 04, 2007

Nomad past collides with modern state
By DIANA ELIAS
Associated Press Writer

Nasser has lived in Kuwait his entire life but cannot call it home. Poor and frustrated, the 24-year-old is one of 100,000 people in this oil-rich Gulf state who are refused what they feel is their birthright: citizenship.

Without it, they can't work, get the free education and medical care available to citizens, own property, or register marriages, births and deaths.

"Our lives are frozen, all we do is think and think," said Nasser, who refused to give his surname for fear that a government that won't recognize him can still harass him.

"I want to get married, I want a car, I want money," he said.

Kuwait, an important U.S. Arab ally, has some 2 million foreigners living on its soil, workers and businessmen drawn by its oil wealth. Its own 1 million citizens enjoy generous lifetime benefits.

But the generosity doesn't extend to the bidoun - Arabic for "without," as in "without nationality."

The bidoun blame their nomadic ancestors who, unfamiliar with concepts of borders and citizenship, never signed up for Kuwaiti nationality before the country became independent from Britain in 1961. But the government believes many are in fact nationals of neighboring countries who are claiming to be stateless in order to become Kuwaitis.

Further muddying the waters are Kuwaiti suspicions that bidoun collaborated with Saddam Hussein's army when it invaded the country in 1990.

The government says it is working hard to solve the problem. Campaigners say it should try harder, warning that destitute bidoun could turn to Islamic militancy.

Lawyer Mubarak al-Shimmiri calls it a "bomb waiting to explode" and is part of a group trying to draw up legislation to resolve it.

"Jobless and hopeless young men are becoming more susceptible to terrorist recruiters," he said. Two bidoun were sentenced to life in prison this summer after being convicted of joining a terror group that planned to attack U.S. soldiers here.

The government has responded with a committee to scrutinize citizenship claims, but the process is slow: By April, 11,675 bidoun had been naturalized. Later figures aren't available.

The bidoun say their ancestors, freely roaming the deserts of Kuwait, Iraq and Saudi Arabia, often had little use for citizenship.

"Our grandfathers who lived in the desert were negligent," said Nasser.

Until the 1980s, bidoun received the same benefits as Kuwaitis. But then the government cut off the benefits and began treating them as illegal immigrants. Convinced the bidoun secretly had other nationalities, officials pressed them to own up and accept legal foreigner status. Most of the bidoun held out for citizenship.

"I am only asking for what is rightfully mine, a nationality for me and my children," said Saad al-Otaibi, a 42-year-old bidoun who suffered shrapnel wounds fighting on Kuwait's side in the 1991 war. "This is the least I can be given."

Bidoun were the backbone of Kuwait's military at the time of Iraq's invasion, since the army was one of the few official jobs open to them. Since then, however, the military has barred their recruitment because of suspicions some harbor Iraqi loyalties.

Lately the bidoun predicament has received unprecedented attention.

A July report by U.S.-based Refugees International said they live in "virtual exile" and are "relegated to a bureaucratic no man's land."

Late last year, Kuwaiti human rights activist Ghanem al-Najjar rallied 5,000 bidoun, giving them a rare opportunity to speak about their plight. He called the government's policy "immoral, unconstitutional and unsuccessful."

Another outspoken critic is Sheika Awrad Al Jaber Al Sabah, daughter of Kuwait's late emir. Known as "mother of the bidoun," she lobbies for them and raises money to send their children to private schools.

"These people have to be given their civil rights immediately, whether they qualify for citizenship or not," she said.

Many Bidoun live in shanty towns and are dependent on charity for food. Nasser's father managed to keep his job with the military and earns enough to house and feed his family, but all the children are jobless and none of the girls are married because no one will risk wedding an undocumented spouse.

Abu Akeel, who sells produce from a pickup truck, has been repeatedly arrested for having no license.

"But it is much better than stealing," he said. "I beseech our government to have mercy on us. We have no other country to go to."

© 2007 Kansas City Star and wire service sources. All Rights Reserved. http://www.kansascity.com

http://www.kansascity.com/451/story/303055.html