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Fahd bin Abdul Aziz
Sultan Bin Abdul Aziz
Naef Bin Abdul Aziz
Salman Bin Abdul Aziz
Ahmad Bin Abdul Aziz
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"Makkah, 'the blessed,' known as Umm
Al Qurrah, 'Mother of Cities,' is the spot toward which every believer
faces five times a day in prayer. For millions of Muslims, it is the goal
of a lifetime to travel to Makkah for Haj. The city is strictly banned to
non-Muslims, but nonbelievers feel the keen disappointment of what they
are missing and want to know what lies within. As a Saudi, I have been
personally selected by God to protect the true faith that got its start in
the holiest city in the world that is located in my country."
-The explanation given to the author by an elderly Saudi bedoum of why
Saudi Arabians are the chosen people of God. |
ON THE JOYOUS occasion of Amani's birth, my sister
Sara joined me in the pangs of de livery, giving birth to her second
child, a daughter whom she and her husband, Asad, gave the name Nashwa,
meaning ecstasy. While Amani has brought bliss into our lives, Nashwa is a
loud and obnoxious girl, and has often introduced havoc into Sara and
Asad's happy home.
Many times I have secretly questioned Kareem about the fearful possibility
that Amani was the true child of Sara and Asad, while Nashwa was of our
blood, for Nashwa's character is remarkably similar to mine. Amani,
moreover, bears a startling resemblance to her Auntie Sara, whom she
favors in both lovely countenance and calm spirit.
Could the staff at the hospital have accidentally mistaken our two
daughters? Our children were born eleven hours apart, but Sara and I
occupied adjoining royal suites. Infant confusion seemed likely to my
mind. Many times over the years, Kareem has attempted to push away my
fears, quoting meaningless statistics showing that such mixups rarely
occur, but each time I gaze on my perfect child, I dread the thought that
she belongs to an other.
Amani, an absorbed and melancholy spirit, always treasured books more than
toys, and from an early age was an enthusiastic student of art and
language. Unlike her older sister Maha, Amani, for the most
part, created little turbulence and instead generated tranquility and
affection in our home.
While Amani's sensitive soul had penetrated more deeply into my heart than
that of her two older siblings, I nevertheless should have been alerted to
the shadowed tenacity in her complex temperament. My daughter's alarming
penchant for animals caused open conflict with other members of our
family. Her youthful devotion to all living creatures clashed with the
Saudi male's love of hunting and killing all creatures that inhabit our
land. While Abdullah and his father gleefully joined other royal cousins
in desert hunts, machine gunning gazelles and rabbits by the light of huge
spotlights mounted on specially equipped Jeeps and open trucks, Amani
crept into her father's hunting room, hiding ammunition, successfully
dismantling weapons, and tossing expensive firearms into the garbage.
Because of Amani's intense love of animals, she was willing to forgo her
strong de sire for family harmony.
This humane but troubling trait showed up at an early age. Owing to
Amani's fervor, our home was overrun with stray beasts of many species,
sizes, and colors.
Most Arabs, unlike many Westerners, feel little devotion for animals, and
starving and injured cats and dogs run wild on our city streets. Since the
early 1 980s there has been an active government policy in
Saudi Arabia of collecting strays and abandoning these creatures in the
desert to die slow and painful deaths. Yet many animals do outwit their
slayers and manage to find a safe haven with those of tender
nature.
While I appreciated and sympathized with Amani's pressing compulsion to
protect abused animals, Kareem and others in our home were greatly
distressed that our property had become a sanctuary for strays. Not
content with the mere act of saving their lives, Amani pampered these
abandoned creatures as if they were rare and expensive breeds, and when
they died, the animals were buried with solemn funeral rites in our gar
den. The surviving strays she had trained to be lap pets joined the family
on our grounds and in our home.
Many times it seemed to me that Amani cared more for animals than she did
for members of her own family, but I am a mother who has difficulty
punishing or re straining her young, and Amani was allowed her one
unfortunate idiosyncrasy.
Kareem employed two young men from Thailand to clean and disinfect after
the animals and to train the dogs in obedience. We even took the extreme
action of building our own small zoo on the grounds, equipping the
facility with spacious caged areas and purchasing numerous breeds of
exotic animals in the hope that Amani's personal zoo would satisfy her
need to collect and coddle large numbers of animals. Next to the zoo area,
Kareem had a sizable area walled off for Amani's strays. He commanded his
daughter to restrict those animals to that special section of the yard.
But after Amani had shed many tears, Kareem reluctantly agreed that she
could select her ten favorite cats and dogs, which would be allowed inside
our home and given free access to the general grounds area.
In spite of these efforts, our daughter remained alert to street strays,
and these creatures invariably found their way to our door.
Once Kareem came home to a strange sight. Three Filipino men who worked
for our neighbors were caught in the act of delivering five cats in a bag
to one of the Thai zoo keepers. Confronting the Filipinos, who were
frightened into silence, Kareem was handed a flyer that stated our
household would reward the bearer SR 100 for each stray cat or puppy.
Kareem flew into a fit of wild anger. After he threatened the Thai
employees with termination, they confessed to Kareem that Amani had
instructed them to attach the reward flyers to the walls of neighboring
palaces and villas. In addition, the two men had been told to roam the
neighborhood streets, abducting cats and dogs, and to bring them to Amani.
Our daughter had sworn the two men to secrecy, and since Kareem had
employed them to work directly for our daughter, they had kept her
confidence.
Kareem forced a head count of strays, and when he discovered that he was
feeding over forty cats and twelve dogs, he slumped to the ground in a
daze. After a long period, without a glance at his family, my husband came
to his feet and, not speaking a word, left our home. We heard the wheels
of his automobile spin as he left the neighborhood. He was away for two
days and three nights. I later learned that Kareem had been visiting his
parents during this time. I heard from gossipy servants that Kareem told
his startled parents he must have a few days' respite from the complex
women in his life, or he would be forced to commit us all to an
institution.
While Kareem was away, I decided I must find some manner of dulling my
daughter's extreme sensitivity to animals. I made many strange discoveries
that had previously gone undetected. The forty cats were dining on fresh
fish from the Red Sea, while the twelve dogs were treated to gourmet meats
from an expensive Australian-supplied butcher shop. Amani had been
appropriating money from the weekly funds that are deposited in a small
cash box in the kitchen, money that our servants used for our personal
shopping. Our household expenses are so enormous that our bookkeeper had
failed to notice the sum taken by our daughter to be used for her animals.
When I discovered that Amani was using large amounts of money to purchase
caged birds just in order to free them, I seriously threatened my child
with visits to a psychiatrist, and for a while she became less involved
with the animal kingdom.
I distinctly recall one dramatic occasion that involved my brother, Ali.
In the past, Ali had made a point of complaining about Amani's pets. He
would grumble to me that no self-respecting Muslim could enter my home for
fear that the animals roaming at will would create a need for
purification. My unmistakable dislike of animals evidently made an
impression on the psyches of Amani's greatly loved creatures, since the
dogs generally made themselves scarce and hid in the bushes until my
brother passed through the garden.
There was one particular incident that stands out in my mind. Ah dropped
by our palace for a brief visit and had just entered the garden gate, when
he stopped to order one of our servants to wash his car while he was
visiting. While he was speaking, one of Amani's favorite dogs, Napoleon,
chose to lift his leg on Ah's freshly laundered thobe. Mi, a vain man who
is proud of his handsome and impeccable appearance, became speechless with
rage. He kicked the poor creature brutally before Amani could rush to
Napoleon's rescue. My daughter was so infuriated that she flung herself on
her uncle, beating him on his arms and chest with her fists.
Urinated upon by a dog and physically assaulted by his niece, Ah lost no
time in leaving our home, shrieking to the smirking servants that not only
was his sister completely mad, but she had given birth to demented
children who preferred beasts over humans for companionship!
From that moment, Amani hated her Uncle Ah with the same intensity that I
had hated my unfeeling brother as a young girl.
In the Muslim faith, a dog is considered im pure, and that fact was a
factor in Ah's extreme anger and disgust. In the Islamic faith, if a dog
drinks out of any container, it should be washed seven times, the first
of which should be in water mixed with dust.
Ah is my only brother, and in spite of our continued explosive
differences, he chooses to maintain a relationship with my family. Kareem
forced Amani to telephone and apologize to her uncle, but the episode with
Napoleon kept Ah away from our home for over two months. When he finally
recovered from his anger and embarrassment, Mi returned for a visit,
calling ahead to insist that our servants shut away Napoleon.
I was apprehensive about Amani's anger, which I knew was thinly veiled,
and was pleased with my daughter when she entered the sitting room on the
day of Mi's visit, playing hostess and offering her uncle a glass of
freshly squeezed grapefruit juice.
With an expression of relief over the forgot ten incident, Ah said that he
happened to be quite thirsty.
Noting the similarities between Sara and Amani, T beamed with motherly
pride when my beautiful child graciously handed Mi a glass of juice and a
plate of almond cookies. Her demeanor was above reproach. I gave her a
happy smile, thinking to buy her a special present the next time that I
went shopping.
Ah smiled his approval and commented that Amani would, one day, make some
lucky man very happy.
It was only after Mi left that I discovered Amani in her bedroom, laughing
so loudly that the servants came from all around to learn the cause of her
merriment.
Amani told an amazed audience that her uncle had drunk his juice out of a
glass that had been licked clean by her entourage of stray pets! My
daughter had filled the glass with cool water for her beasts prior to
pouring juice for her uncle! Not only that, but she had given the
recovered Napoleon a few licks on the cookies before serving them to Ah!
The servants grinned with satisfaction, for Ah is not a popular man with
them.
While I tried to appear stern, my lips paid no heed, and my face trembled
as I struggled to control my laughter. Giving up the charade of parental
guidance, I held my daughter in my arms and roared
uncontrollably.
For the first time in her life, Amani exhibited traits that led me to hope
she was a child born of my body after all.
I know now that I should have scolded my child for a deed that would have
caused Mi a heart attack had he known the truth, but I could barely
control my glee. When I laughingly confided the story to Kareem, he had
such a look of sheer horror at my amusement, that I knew my husband feared
for the sanity of his loved ones.
Kareem's patience snapped at my revelation. Seething with Muslim anger at
the prank and disturbed by Amani's preoccupation with animals, he declared
that the large number of animals in our home was ruining his life, and he
insisted that we sit down with our daughter and have a frank discussion
about her apparent obsession.
Before I could respond, my husband spoke into the house intercom and
instructed Amani to come into our living quarters immediately.
Together, Kareem and I waited for Amani in the sitting area that is
attached to our master bedroom.
Amani's black eyes sparkled with interest as she swept with sprightly
grace into the room.
Before I could defuse the situation, Kareem bluntly asked, "Amani,
tell me, what is your object in life?"
Amani, with childlike serenity, replied without hesitation, "To save
all the animals from man.
"Saving animals is nothing more than a pampered passion of rich
Europeans and Americans," Kareem angrily responded. He looked at me
as if I were to blame and said "Sultana, I thought your child would
be more intelligent."
Amani's eyes began to tear, and she asked to leave the room. Uncomfortable
with female tears, my husband thought better of his sarcastic tactics.
Kareem tempered his approach and spoke with perfect seriousness.
"And, Amani, after you save all the animals, of what consequence will
you be to yourself, or to your family?"
Amani squeezed her lips together and looked off into space. Without
responding, she gradually came back into our world. Un able to formulate
her thoughts, she looked at her father and shrugged her shoulders.
Remaining wisely uncritical of her great love of animals, Kareem clarified
the need for greater purpose in human life, to create and inspire those of
our own kind. He reminded Amani that she could perform good deeds for
four-legged beasts while still influencing civilization. He added,
"Advancing civilization is the responsibility of those who are
mistreated in a society, for only out of discontent with imperfection does
mankind seek to better the society in which he lives."
Amani scoffed at his message. She raised her voice and asked her father
the obvious question, "In Saudi Arabia? What can a fe male do that
will make a difference in this country?"
My daughter looked at me and waited for my expected agreement.
Just as I was about to argue with Kareem, he interrupted me and, to my
astonishment, pointed me out to our daughter and said that I, as an
unheard female in Saudi Arabia, had not reconciled myself to the life of a
royal idler, but that I had become educated and was utilizing my knowledge
to further women's causes. He continued by saying that one day women's
roles would develop, and our influence would be felt outside the home.
Dumbfounded at Kareem's words, I could add little to the conversation.
Never before had my husband acknowledged the righteousness of my vision of
freedom for women.
After a discussion of more than an hour, Amani promised her father that
she would look beyond her furry friends and find a second, equally
challenging purpose in her life.
As affectionate a child as ever lived, Amani kissed each of us good night,
and said that she had much thinking to do. As she was closing our bedroom
door, she turned back and, giving us a wonderful smile,
said, "I love you, Dada, and, Mummy, you too," bringing back to
mind the innocent girl our youngest daughter still was.
Thrilled at what he declared a huge success, Kareem held me in his arms
and spoke of his dreams for his daughters, as well as his son, saying that
if it were up to him, "All the ridiculous restrictions placed
upon the heads of women would disappear, just like magic." Kareem
snapped his fingers in the air and gave me a tender look.
Cynically I thought that there is nothing like a beloved daughter to
induce a man to clamor for adjustments in an unfair world.
Longing for unaccustomed peace in a household of three lively children, I
welcomed the idea of the peaceful family life that Kareem promised would
come, now that Amani would surely get over her love affair with the world
of animals.
Shortly afterward, the Gulf War began, fol lowed by the culmination of
Maha's mental instability. During this stressful period, a sty mied and
solitary Amani had no one to help her search for a more fitting, fresh
objective in life.
Now, retracing Amani's pattern of obsession with causes that held her
interest, I, a woman schooled in philosophy, which is the critical study
of fundamental beliefs, should have recognized that my youngest child
possessed the traits often connected with those we deem fanatics,
frightening people who eagerly embrace extremist convictions.
Perceiving the resolute earnestness of my daughter, I now reproach myself
for initiating an impressionable and mentally confused child into that
most religious occasion, Haj. For Amani was only fourteen years old, the
time of maximum adolescent upheaval.
During our pilgrimage to Makkah, by one of the strangest transformations
in our family history, Kareem and I observed our daughter Amani emerge
almost overnight from her dormant religious faith and embrace Islamic
beliefs with unnerving intensity. I was nothing more than a mother tending
her child, offering her the foundation of her heritage, but it was as if
Amani's mind were caught by a higher vision, a secret that was in herself,
too intimate to reveal to her mother or father.
The morning after our arrival in Jeddah, we made the short drive in an
air-conditioned limousine from that Red Sea city to the holiest city of
Islam, the city of the Prophet Mo hammed, Makkah. I was thrilled to
find my self at the Haj with my most beloved family members in attendance.
I tried to concentrate on my prayers but found myself peering out the car
window, thinking of ancient times when enormous numbers of the faithful
had come by camel caravan or trekked barefoot over rugged and rocky
terrain in the eager quest to fulfill one of the five pillars of the
Islamic faith.
I wanted desperately to share my thoughts with Kareem and my children, but
I saw that each of them was busy contemplating God and his or her
relationship with him. Maha's eyes were closed, while Abdullah was
fingering his prayer beads. Kareem seemed glassy eyed, and I hoped he was
not reliving his youthful nightmare of being trampled to death on this
day. I leaned close and stared, but my husband studiously avoided my eyes.
Amani was caught up in her own solitary meditations, and I thought that my
daughter's face seemed afire. Satisfied, I smiled and patted her hand,
thinking that I had accomplished much good in bringing my family together
for the holy event.
Soon we arrived in the city, which is en closed by the Valley of Abraham
and surrounded by mountain ranges to the east, west, and south. Makkah is
set in a rugged landscape that consists mainly of solid granite, but the
ancient city is the most beautiful of sights to all Muslims.
I chanted, "Here I am, 0 God! Here I am!" Outside the Holy
Mosque of Makkah, our family met with a specially appointed official guide
who would lead us through the rituals of Haj and act as our Imam, or
minister, during our prayers. Sara and I remained with our daughters,
while Kareem and Asad walked away with our sons. Ml around us other
pilgrims called out their prayers to God as we mounted the
expansive marble steps of the Holy Mosque. Taking off our shoes at the
entrance of the Mosque, we continued to walk and to pray, "God, you
are the peace, and from you peace proceeds. 0 God of ours, greet us with
peace.
As the Prophet always moved with the right side of his body, I was careful
to enter the white marble courtyard of the Holy Mosque by stepping through
the Gate of Peace with my right foot first.
There are seven main gates that open into the immense courtyard, and
crowds were sulging through each one. On the sides of the Mosque, white
marble columns rose high into the air, while elaborately carved minarets
towered above the columns. Red silk carpets ran the length of the
courtyard, where pilgrims were sitting and reading silently or meditating
about God.
The cry of the muezzin rang out, and we were called to prayer. There is a
sect ion of the courtyard reserved for women only, but Sara and I, with
our daughters, lined up in a row behind the men, who were in the front,
joining other Muslims in prayer, rising and ~l mg in the prostrations so
familiar to all Muslims the world over.
I felt myself humbled. I am of the royal family, but before the eyes of
God, I was at one with all classes of people. All around us were the
poorest of God's people, yet they were as rich as I, in the eyes of God.
When the prayers finished, we streamed forward toward the Kaaba, which is
a simple stone structure with a single door that sits six feet off the
marble floor. Fifty feet high and thirtv-five feet long, the Kaaba is in
the center of the sacred Mosque. This is the spot where three millenniums
ago, Ibrahim, known as Abraham to Jews and Christians, first dedicated a
house of worship to a single God. In the Koran, God says, "The first
house of God that was built for people is the one in Makkah." It is
toward this structure that one billion
people turn five times each day to bow down and pray.
A huge black velvet cloth embroidered in gold with verses from the Koran
was draped over the Kaaba. I knew that at the end of the annual Haj, the
cloth would be taken down and replaced by a new cloth that had been woven
in a special mill in Makkah. Many pilgrims would pay large sums of money
to take home a bit of the beautiful cloth as a memento of their sacred
journey to Makkah.
In a corner of the Kaaba is the Black Stone, which is the symbol of Muslim
love of God. The Black Stone, framed in silver, had been honored by
Prophet Mohammed. The hadith, or sayings and traditions of the Prophet,
says that our Prophet kissed the Black Stone as he helped to place it in
the Kaaba. For this reason, the stone is particularly sacred to all
Muslims.
In our next sacred rite of pilgrimage, the tawwaf, or the
circumambulation, people began to walk around the Kaaba.
Keeping the Kaaba on our left, we circle while reciting, "God is most
Great. 0 God, grant us good in this work and good in the hereafter, and
protect us from the torment of the fires in hell."
After we completed this ritual, I saw Kareem. He motioned with his head
for us to come. We were fortunate, for Kareem had ar ranged for us to be
taken inside the Kaaba to offer additional prayers.
My family and I climbed a portable stair case that had been rolled up to
the structure to enter through the door set high above the ground. The
door had been inscribed in silver with verses from the Koran. Inside the
Kaaba is the most sacred spot in the world for Muslims.
The interior of the Kaaba was very dark, and I prayed in each corner,
asking God to keep the devil away from my daughter, Maha, and to bless the
other members of my family. In light of the recent Gulf War, I also re
quested that God assist Muslims in keeping peace. Not forgetting my main
focus in life, I prayed that God would guide the men of Arabia in their
interpretation of the teachings of the Prophet, and would release their
wives, sisters, and daughters from the bondage wrapped so tightly around
us in our daily lives.
I heard the sobbing of a child and, looking through the darkness,
witnessed my own daughter Amani weeping. Through her cries, I heard her
ask God to assist her in divorcing herself from the world of royal
luxuries, to help her be better equipped to stamp out hu man wickedness.
She pleaded with God to swallow up all the sins of mankind and to cure the
ills of the world.
Amani was having a religious experience.
Her eyes were red, but she ignored my touch of love, tenderly given as we
left the Kaaba.
Once we had departed the Kaaba, we walked to the Station of Ibrahim, which
is located in the Holy Mosque, and there we per formed two more
prostrations. Bowing to God, we acknowledged to ourselves that the ritual
of circling the Kaaba was not a worship of that structure but a worship of
God, the One and Only One, the Eternal and the Absolute, and that none
except God deserves to be worshiped.
We then left the courtyard of the Holy Mosque to begin our next rituals,
which would take place at the Well of Zamzam, and the Mas'a, or the
Running Place. This spot is in the plains that surround Makkah.
Once again, Sara and I separated from the -male members of our family.
Though we would perform the same rituals, we would do~ so with those of
our own sex.
It was in the plains surrounding Makkah that Ibrahim, weary of Sarah's
persecution of Hagar, allowed Hagar to leave with his son, Ismail. It was
then that Ibrahim left with Sarah and Isaac to travel to Palestine.
Christians and Jews know that Ibrahim's descendants in Palestine developed
the Jewish faith, while his descendants in Makkah went on to establish the
Islamic faith.
Thus, by one great man, Ibrahim, two of the three great monotheistic
religions, Judaism and Islam, are joined.
Hagar and Ismail traveled through the des ert with nothing more than a bag
of dates. Searching desperately for water for her young, Hagar ran between
the two hills of Safa nd Marwa, seeking a well of water from which she
could nourish her child. A miracle happened. The Angel Gabriel replenished
a well that had gone dry at the feet of Hagar's son, Ismail. Thus God
saved Hagar and her son. This well, which was named Zamzam, still runs
clear and fresh.
While Hagar ran over rocky terrain in the boiling sun, we pilgrims run
between the hills of Safa and Marwa in an air-conditioned gal lery. This
convenience was built by the men of my family in order to reduce the
number of casualties suffered each year at the Haj. Old, sick, and
handicapped pilgrims carried on the shoulders of the faithful used to run
seven times between the hills, regardless of the heat. Sun stroke and
heart attacks were not uncommon.
There are signs posted in the gallery that tell men when to run and when
to walk, while women are instructed to walk. While moving between the
hills, pilgrims recite verses from the Koran and chant "God is
Great." After seven trips, my daughters and I drank the waters of the
Zamzam and sprinkled drops of the liquid on our clothing. The mountain
spring is no longer visible, as the waters of the well are now delivered
to pilgrims through hundreds of water taps covered with a beautiful marble
vault.
Just as we were about to depart the waters of Zamzam, we heard a loud
commotion sweeping through the crowd of pilgrims. Curious, I walked toward
a group of Muslim women from Indonesia and asked them in the English
language if they knew the source of the excitement.
One of them replied, "Yes!" Three men had fallen and been
trampled upon, and they had heard that two of the men had died!
I could not catch my breath! I could think of nothing but my husband!
Kareem! Had his nightmare come true, after all?
I ran back to my sister and our daughters, my eyes wild with terror, my
incoherent words making no sense.
Sara grabbed my shoulders and demanded to know what was the trouble.
"Kareem! I have heard some men have been trampled. I fear for
Kareem's life!"
Thinking that I had seen his body, my daughters began to moan, and Sara
raised her voice, demanding to know why I thought one of the dead men
might be Kareem.
I told Sara, "A dream! Kareem suffered a dream that he would be
crushed at Haj! Now, some men have been trampled to death in the area
where he was last seen."
Sara, like me, has learned there is much in life that is not for our
understanding, that un explained forces move through our lives. She was
concerned, though not yet as hysterical as I.
Just as we were about to split into three groups to search for our men, we
saw that two stretchers with bodies covered in white sheets were being
carried through the crowd. I ran as fast as I could and,
screaming, ripped the sheets from the bodies of the dead, first one and
then the other.
The four hospital workers from Makkah stood frozen to the spot, not
knowing what to expect next from this woman who was clearly deranged.
Neither of the dead men was Kareem! Both were old, and it was easy to see
how they could have been pushed to their deaths.
I held the sheet in my hand and stood over the body of one man, crying out
in great relief that I did not know him. I was standing in that position
just as Kareem, Asad, and our sons followed the sounds of the shouting
women to see what calamity had occurred.
Kareem could not believe his eyes! His wife was laughing with joy at the
sight of a man dead! He pushed through the crowd and caught me by my
wrists, pulling me from the scene.
"Sultana! Have you gone quite mad?"
Sara quickly explained what I had feared, and Kareem's angry look
softened. Embarrassed, he had to explain the fearful night mare he had
described to his wife.
The atmosphere was electric with emotion. The crowd began to mumble and
look menacingly in my direction, as the wives of the two dead men realized
their tragedy and learned that I had laughed like a hyena at the deaths of
their husbands.
We hurriedly left the area, while Asad revealed our identity to some
guards. With the protection of the guards, Asad gave a gift of SR 3,000 to
each of the families and told them we were of the royal family. He quickly
explained my fear of Kareem's dream and pacified the angry crowd.
After we escaped the scene, my family began to laugh nervously, and later,
as time erased the shame of my conduct, the situation became a hilarious
event that has entertained them on more than one
occasion.
Our rituals were completed for the first day of Haj.
We then returned to our palace in Jeddah, which is situated on the waters
of the Red Sea. During the drive, in an attempt to put the experience of
the trampled men out of our minds, each of us shared our profound
experiences of the day. Only Amani was strangely quiet and withdrawn.
I thought to myself that there was some thing perplexing about my youngest
child's demeanor.
The feeling of impending doom would not leave me, and once we were back in
our home, I followed Kareem around until I could focus my thoughts and
articulate what was in my heart and on my mind. I
accompanied him from the entrance hall to our bed room and out onto the
balcony, then back into the bedroom and into his library.
An abyss divided our moods.
Looking at me in exasperation, Kareem finally asked, "Sultana, what
can I do for you?"
Unsure of what my concerns were, I had difficulty expressing myself.
"Have you noticed your daughter Amani today?" I asked.
"Amani is worrying me. I feel that a strange mood is oppressing our
daughter. I do not like it."
In a weary tone, my husband insisted, "Sultana, cease to view danger
where there is none. She is at Haj. Do you not believe that all pilgrims
are engrossed in special thought?" He paused and then added in a
malicious tone, "Other than you, Sultana."
Kareem then stood silent, but he gave me a withering look that spoke
clearly of his desire for solitude.
Irritated, I left Kareem in his library. I searched for Maha, but she had
retired to her bedroom and was sleeping. Abdullah was not around. He had
gone with his Auntie Sara to their villa. I felt terribly alone in the
world.
I decided that I would go to the source of my worry. I walked to Amani's
bedroom, and when I heard the mumbling of her voice, I put my ear to the
door and tried to under stand the words she was saying. My daughter was
praying, and her voice pleaded with God with an urgency that awakened my
memory of another I had eavesdropped upon from be hind a locked door.
Suddenly the memory of that other voice in another time reminded me why I
was so tormented with anxiety. La- wand! Amani was praying with the same
sort of isolated longing I had often heard from the locked room of her
cousin Lawand!
The atmosphere that had surrounded Amani from the moment of our
participation in the first ritual of the day had seemed vaguely familiar.
Now, on this day, Lawand's insanity had reemerged in the chilling
intensity of Amani's eyes. I told myself that Amani was going the way her
cousin Lawand!
While still a teenager, Lawand, who was a first cousin of Kareem on his
father's side of the family, had attended school in Geneva, Switzerland.
Her parents' decision to send her abroad for schooling proved a grievous
mistake. While in Geneva, Lawand disgraced her family by becoming involved
with several young men. In addition to her sexual involvements, Lawand
became addicted to cocaine. While moving secretly out of her room one
evening, Lawand was captured by the head mistress, who called her father
in Saudi Arabia, demanding that he come and collect his wayward child.
When the family found out about their daughter's activities, Lawand's
father and two brothers flew to Geneva and took the girl to a Swiss drug
rehabilitation center. Six months later, when her treatment was
completed, she was brought back to Saudi Arabia. The family was exhausted
with shame and fury, and as punishment they decided to confine Lawand to a
small apartment in their home until they were
satisfied that she had realized her reck- less offense to Muslim life.
When I heard the verdict, I could think of little but Sameera, the best
friend of my sister Tahani. Sameera had been a brilliant and beautiful
young woman when she was deprived of her freedom so long ago and
forced into the dark prison of the woman 5 room. While Lawand would one
day secure her freedom, it seemed that only death would free Sameera from
her incarceration.
Within my limited sphere of expectations, I found myself thinking that
Lawand was fortunate her father was not the unfeeling sort who could
confine his daughter to life imprisonment, or to death by stoning, and
I experienced sad relief instead of passionate anger.
How fortunate is the human being who has no memories, for memories often
remold the victim of oppression into the image of their oppressor! With
terrifying seriousness, I listened as the men of my family mouthed the law
of obedience, saying that the peaceful structure of our conservative
society rested upon the perfect obedience of children to their parents and
wives to their husbands. Without that obedience, anarchy would rule the
day. The men of my family firmly stated that Lawand's punishment was fair.
I visited the family on many occasions, listening with profound sympathy
to the grief of Lawand's mother and her sisters. Often, the women of the
family spoke with Lawand through the locked door. Initially, Lawand begged
for forgiveness and pleaded with her mother to set her free.
Sara and I smuggled notes of encouragement to our cousin, advising her to
recall the wisdom of silence and to read the books and play the games
female members of the family placed through the small
opening that had been constructed for the delivery of food and
~ for emptying the pail containing bodily wastes. But Lawand had little
interest in occupying her time with quiet pursuits.
After several weeks of confinement, La- wand returned to God and began to
pray, declaring that she had seen the error of her ways and swearing to
her parents that she would never again commit a single
wrong.
Taking great pity on her daughter, La- wand's mother beseeched her husband
to set the child free, saying that she felt certain La wand would now
return to the pious life.
Lawand's father suspected his daughter of deceit, since he had told her
that her confinement would end when her mind once again embraced the
proper thoughts of a believing Muslim.
Before long, Lawand prayed all her waking moments, failing even to respond
to our worried voices. I could easily see that Lawand was hallucinating,
for she spoke to God in her prayers on an equal basis,
shouting that she would represent him on earth, teaching his followers a
new moral code of which only she, Lawand, had knowledge.
After one particular visit, when Lawand's mother and I overheard her madly
rejoicing in the confines of her room, I told Kareem that I was certain
Lawand had lost her mind.
Kareem spoke with his father, who in turn visited his brother's home. As
the eldest brother of Lawand's father, Kareem's father had authority over
the family. On my father- in-law's advice, Lawand's father opened the
locked door and released his daughter from her prison. Lawand would now be
allowed to rejoin her family in a normal life.
Lawand's eleven-week confinement had ended, but the family tragedy ripened
rapidly. During the course of her prison sentence, La- wand had
disciplined herself to ascetic austerity, and carried out of her
imprisonment seething with Islamic fervor, claiming that a new day had
dawned for Islam.
On the day of her release, Lawand in formed her family that all Muslims
must denounce luxury and vice, and promptly pounced upon her two sisters
for wearing kohl [black powder] on their eyes, rouge on their cheeks, and
fingernail polish on their nails. After she made her sisters cower on the
sofa, Lawand ripped an expensive necklace from her mother's neck and
rushed to throw the precious stones down the kitchen drain. The women of
the house could barely restrain her, and the family disturbance resulted
in various minor injuries. Lawand was given a shot by one of the palace
physicians and a prescription for drugs to calm her mind.
Violence hid its face for a while, but nevertheless survived, and from
time to time La wand would lash out with blunt passion, directing abuse at
whoever was handy.
After she ripped Sara's gold earrings from my sister's ears, shouting that
to see such gleaming finery hurt the eyes of God, I thought to protect
myself by purchasing a small canister of Mace while I was on
holiday in the United States. I hid the item in my lug gage, even from the
eyes of Kareem, and began to carry it in a small bag when I visited
Lawand's home.
As is my disastrous misfortune, Lawand selected an afternoon when I was
paying a visit to demonstrate her renewed religious fervor.
Lawand, her mother, two sisters, and I were having a pleasant chat while
sipping tea, eating pastries, and discussing my last trip to America when
Lawand suddenly became rest less, her eyes flashing about, seeking some
affront to God.
In her temporarily disordered state, she began to criticize her mother's
choice of clothing, which Lawand stated was much too immodest for a
believing Muslim. Fascinated, I watched as Lawand carefully folded her
table napkin and very courteously covered her mother's neck with the
fabric. Then, without warning, Lawand began to curse. She made a sudden
wild leap in the air, twisting her body in midair to face me.
I saw that Lawand was eyeing my new pearl necklace, and remembered too
late Kareem's warning that I should not wear jewelry in her home.
Lawand's pale ascetic face, twisted in passionate and divine conviction,
awed me, and I felt the acute danger that she posed. I quickly dug in my
small bag and brought out the Mace, warning my cousin that she should quit
the room or sit down immediately, or I would be forced to defend myself
Lawand's mother began to scream and to tug on her mad daughter's sleeve. I
braced myself for an attack when Lawand pushed her pawing mother from her
side and rushed at me, forcing me into a small corner
between a lamp and a chair.
The worst was yet to come.
Sara, who had agreed to meet me at La- wand's home, entered the villa at
that exact moment. I saw that she held her youngest child in her arms.
Sara's jaw dropped when she saw that La wand had cornered her youngest
sister between a chair and a lamp, and that I was holding a weapon in my
hand. Knowing Lawand's weakness, Sara quickly regained her calm and subtly
attempted to persuade Lawand to stop her foolishness. For a short moment
Lawand, with feline deception, pretended to submit to Sara's wisdom. She
dropped her aggressive stance and began to rub her hands together in a
nervous manner.
Doubting her sincerity, I yelled for Sara to take her baby and run from
the room! At the sound of my excited voice, Lawand swung about and then,
with all the fury of one who is insane, bounded toward me with
out stretched hands, making for my pearl neck lace.
I squeezed the Mace container with both hands and Lawand dropped to her
knees. In the back of my mind, I remembered reading that it takes double
power to disable the in sane, so in my excitement, I
emptied the container and laced not only Lawand, but her mother and one
sister, who had come to Lawand's aid.
Lawand recovered from the Mace attack rapidly, but had lost her will to
fight.
Her father finally realized that his daughter needed long-term
professional attention, which she received in France, enjoying a full
recovery within a year's time.
Lawand's mother and sister required immediate medical attention. The
Pakistani physician summoned to treat the women had difficulty maintaining
his professional seriousness, when informed that one royal princess had
laced three other princesses who were members of her family.
Everyone in Kareem's family thought I had acted with too much haste, but I
refused to let myself be crucified for defending myself against a woman
who had lost her mind, and I told them so. Indignant, I added that instead
of criticism, I deserved their appreciation for my deed, for the event had
led to Lawand's recovery.
While there is a tendency among some to dismiss my actions as those of a
female of excitable emotion, I am a woman of deadly seriousness when it
comes to women 5 issues.
A wise man was once asked what was the most difficult truth in life to
uncover. His re ply was "to know thyself." While others might
harbor doubt, I know my own character. Un deniably, I have been endowed
with an over abundance of spontaneity, and it is from this exuberance that
I gain my power to do battle against those in command of females in my
land. And I can claim some degree of success in bending the bonds of
tradition.
Now, remembering Lawand's temporary and unhinged obsession with unhealthy
fundamentalist fervor, I attached great significance to my daughter's
extreme infatuation with our religion.
While I believe in and honor the God of Mohammed, it is my contemplative
interpretation that the masses of humanity who are engaging in loving,
struggling, suffering, and enjoying are living life as God intended. I
have no desire for my child to turn her back on the rich complexity of
life and reaffirm her future through the harsh asceticism of a militant
interpretation of our religion.
I ran to my husband and said in a rush of words, "Amani is
praying!"
Kareem, who was quietly reading the Koran, looked at me as though I had
finally lost all reason. "Praying?" he asked, his voice tinged
with disbelief at my extreme reaction to another's communication with God.
"Yes!" I cried. "She is exhausting herself with
prayer." I insisted, "Come! See for yourself!"
Regretfully, Kareem laid his Koran on his desk and, with an expression of
incredulity, humored his wife by following me from the room.
As we entered the hallway leading to Amani's door, we could hear the sound
of her voice, rising and falling with the intensity of her words.
Kareem left my side and burst into Amani's room. Our daughter turned,
displaying a face lined with pain and haggard with sorrow.
Kareem spoke softly. "Amani, it is time for you to take a small rest.
Go to bed. Now. Your mother will wake you in an hour for the eve ning
meal."
Amani's expression appeared stricken, and she did not speak. But still
bound to Kareem's influence, she lay across the bed, fully dressed, and
closed her eyes.
I could see my child's lips as they continued to move in silent prayer,
uttering words that were not meant for my ears.
Kareem and I quietly left our daughter. Drinking coffee in our sitting
room, Kareem confessed that he had a small degree of concern but was
skeptical of my exaggerated fear that Amani was sinking into a
medieval passion, darkened with thoughts of sin, suffering, and hell. He
sat quietly for a short while and then announced that my apprehension was
directly linked to Lawand's unhinged denunciations of human wickedness. He
told me that Amani's religious revival did not result from insanity, but
was essentially linked with the overpowering joy of Haj.
"You will see," he promised, "once we have returned to the
normal routine of life, Amani will lapse again into the habit of
accumulating wandering beasts, and her religious fanaticism will soon be
forgotten."
Kareem smiled and asked a small favor. "Sultana, please, al low Amani
some peace to turn from her daily problems to a oneness with God. It is a
duty of all Muslims."
With a grimace, I nodded my head in agreement. Somewhat relieved, I hoped
that Kareem was right.
Still, not leaving such an important matter to chance, in my prayers that
evening I indulged in long hours of pleading with God that Amani would
once again be the child she had been prior to our attending Haj.
I suffered nightmares throughout the night:
I dreamed that my daughter left our home to join an extremist religious
organization in Amman, Jordan, that doused gasoline on the clothing of
working Muslim women, setting afire and burning to death those whom they
deemed nonbelievers. |
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