Omar Jarun was just seven years old when the ground shook mightily — exploding bombs lighting up the Kuwait City sky.
It was August of 1990, the early stages of the Gulf War, as Jarun’s father Belal and mother Brenda loaded young Omar, clutching a stuffed bear, and his sister Noor into what he remembers being a Lincoln Town Car, trying to get to the airport for a plane heading to the United States. The family left behind everything, eager for a new beginning — a life without houses being shredded by missiles.
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