I am uncertain about the exact story of Badria and its connection to my life's journey. It might relate to Hawalli, this enchanting place that nurtured childhood and remarkable discoveries, where awareness blossomed with culture, poetry, and music. Hawalli, which hosted the sidr trees, rain streams, cheerful spring birds, and all love poems that began there. In 1986, I was responsible for the cultural page in Al-‘Amel magazine, published by the General Union of Kuwaiti Workers. During that time, the Kuwaiti Parliament was dissolved, and the constitution suspended. I found myself expressing my reaction in a strange way by starting to write about Badria, releasing it in serialized form in Al-‘Amel magazine. Nostalgia flowed like rain torrents in Hawalli, as if I were writing a chronicle of my anger and pain over losing Hawalli, or Kuwait—it was no different. I envisioned Kuwait as a parentless child abandoned when it began to blossom, but kind-hearted people, whose examples I saw in Hawalli, embraced Badria, considering her their own. She was the daughter of all, especially the worker 'Falah' and his young student 'Fahd'. To my astonishment, oil workers eagerly followed the magazine to read Badria's episodes. One told me, "When shipments of Al-‘Amel magazine arrived, we'd snatch them up, leave our work at oil production towers, lean against the machines, and wish the episode wouldn't end, feeling a curious connection to it." They called me, asking, "What will happen to Badria in the next episode?" I'd answer, "Let it be a surprise," though even I didn’t know what I would write next.

Publishing house: Dar Al-Farabi Publishing House Number of Pages: 168 Year of publication: 2012