Path: bloom-picayune.mit.edu!enterpoop.mit.edu!snorkelwacker.mit.edu!americast.com!americast.com!americast-post Newsgroups: americast.twt.life From: americast-post@AmeriCast.Com Organization: American Cybercasting Approved: americast-post@AmeriCast.com Subject: In Kuwait, skating rink is where they break ice Date: Mon, 23 Nov 92 15:07:21 EST Message-ID: Lines: 99 \SE D;LIFE \SS (WS) \HD In Kuwait, skating rink is where they break ice \BY Jonathan Wright \CR REUTERS NEWS AGENCY \DT KUWAIT CITY KUWAIT CITY - "No skating in dishdashas," says a notice on the door, banning the long white robes that are the everyday dress of Kuwaiti men. "It's very difficult to skate in a dishdasha," explains Abdulwahab Bannay, manager of Kuwait's ice skating rink. "And it doesn't look good. It's not the image we want to present." With loudspeakers blaring rap music by Hammer and a video game arcade in the cafeteria, the rink is indeed a piece of modernity hard to reconcile with the traditions of a country where ice was once something you read about in travel books. But 40 years of wealth have changed Kuwaitis. On afternoons after school, the rink is crowded with teen-agers, girls and boys together, vying to show off their skating skills. In summer, the temperature outside might be more than 120 degrees. But inside the vast Olympic-size hall, it is a constant 59, and 33 miles of underground piping keeps the ice frozen. Mr. Bannay says it costs the state-owned Touristic Enterprises Co. up to $100,000 a year in electricity to keep the climate at bay, far more than in temperate countries. But with about 440 customers on an average day, the rink is making a profit. If it did not, the state probably would cover the losses to keep the young off the streets and out of trouble. The rink is one of the few places in Kuwait City where boys and girls can mix in public away from their elders - a practice the management seems to encourage. "This is a very modern place. We don't want to say: 'This is forbidden, this is forbidden,' " says Mr. Bannay. The rink even gives girls a 30 percent discount on season tickets to try to even out the numbers. "We get more boys than girls, which is not very surprising. In the old days, girls didn't come out of their houses," one staff member says. One concession to Kuwait's Islamic background is a smaller separate rink for women who prefer not to skate in front of men. They come wrapped in black, their heads in scarves, and change into tracksuits in a room at the back. But Luba Birselyova, a Czechoslovakian who instructs women and children, says the girls shun ladylike figure skating in favor of hockey skating, which is faster and more exhilarating. "As soon as they can skate, they buy the hockey skates. They want to be fast," she says. Mr. Bannay says some Muslim clerics once objected to the rink but did not press the point. "They didn't like us because of the loud music but we haven't changed," he says. "Without the music it would be deadly. You can't skate without music." The music can be a little daring. "I love the way you touch my body," go the lyrics of one song. "The pants stay on" is the refrain of a funk number by a woman singer. Rashed Najada, a disc jockey and a regular skater almost since the rink opened in 1980, says the only complaint he ever had was that the music was not right for dancing. When it opened it was the only rink in the Arabian Peninsula and probably in the entire Middle East. Others have opened in Saudi Arabia and Dubai in the United Arab Emirates. But the Kuwaitis, who like to be first in everything, are dismissive of their new rivals. "They're complete beginners. They've only been skating for a year and a half," says Walid Gharib, a member of the Kuwaiti ice hockey team. Mr. Gharib is preparing for a match in Dubai, the team's first abroad since the rink reopened in June last year. The rink closed on Aug. 2, 1990, the day of the Iraqi invasion, and after liberation in February 1991 it took three months to do repairs and clean up the mess. A contingent of Iraqi soldiers had camped at the entrance and in September 1990 a mysterious fire broke out in the basement, leaving soot all over the walls. This article is copyright 1992 The Washington Times. Redistribution to other sites is not permitted except by arrangement with American Cybercasting Corporation. For more information, send-email to usa@AmeriCast.COM