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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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O God, make the end of my life the best of my
life, And the best of my deeds, their conclusion, And the best of my days,
the day on which I shall meet Thee. O God, make death the best of those
things we choose not, But which we await; And the grave the best dwelling
in which we shall dwell, And, then death, make best which follows death.
-A Pilgrim's Prayer
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IT HAD BEEN a week since we left our families in
Monaco. In two days our husbands and children would return to Saudi
Arabia.
On this night each of the ten female children of my mother had gathered in
the home of Nura. We were blessed that Reema was among us, for that
morning she had been dismissed from the clinic and had come to stay in the
home of her oldest sister until her health was further improved.
The occasion was bittersweet, for we had come together on the twentieth
anniversary of our dear mother's death. This was an annual ritual that we
had never failed to commemorate, for our mother was sorely missed, even
after twenty years. On past occasions we had celebrated our mother's
memory by calling to mind our favorite childhood stories of her-telling of
the wonderful influence she had had on our lives. Tonight, because of our
sadness over Reema's recent tragedy, our mood was subdued, and our woeful
spirits led us to themes more sorrowful than in the past.
"Twenty years?" Sara mused. "It cannot be so long since I
looked upon my mother's face."
Each of us agreed that the years had moved more rapidly than we liked to
think.
I had a sudden realization that of ten daughters, eight were now older
than our mother had been at her death. Sara and I were the two exceptions.
When I gave voice to this thought, there were many moans and frowns.
Nura demanded, "Sultana! Say no more! Please!"
Nura now had grandchildren, and our eldest sister's age had become a
forbidden topic in the past few years.
Reema asked us to hush, saying that she had a small story about our mother
she had never shared, for she had thought I might take offense.
My eyes flashed with interest and surprise, and I agreed that nothing
Reema might say would create controversy.
"You must promise, Sultana! And keep your word, no matter your
emotions!"
I laughed and agreed, my curiosity aroused. When I was only eight years of
age, Reema was called into our mother's bedroom, and mother asked Reema to
give her a solemn promise. Shy Reema was awed at the thought of a special
secret that she alone would share with our mother. In great anticipation,
she gave her word that no one would know of their conversation.
Mother told her that she had made a disturbing discovery about Sultana.
Mother told Reema, "Sultana is a thief!"
My eyes popped in surprise, while my sisters burst into loud laughter.
Reema held her hand in the air, asking for silence so that she could
complete her story.
Mother had caught her youngest child stealing from the personal belongings
of others in our home. Mother said that I had been discovered stealing
toys, books, candy, cookies, and even items for which I had no use, such
as my record collection. Mother told Reema
that she had tried every tactic and punishment and nothing had succeeded,
that I was a child who could not be shamed into obeying her mother. Now,
Mother needed Reema's assistance in saving my soul.
Mother made Reema swear that each time she prayed, for the rest of her
days on earth, she would never cease to ask God to protect Sultana, guide
Sultana, and forgive Sultana.
With teary eyes glistening, Reema looked at me and said, "Sultana. I
have wearied of worrying about your sinful conduct. That promise has been
a great burden, for I am a Muslim who not only prays the five obligatory
daily prayers, but who prays on many other occasions. A promise made to my
dear mother can never be broken, so I knew that I must pray for you until
I pass from this earth. But now I pray that you are no longer a thief and
my prayers have been answered!"
The room burst with the sound of eight other voices, for each of my
sisters was whooping with laughter, screaming over the sounds of the
others. Once calm returned, we made the discovery that my mother had re
quested and received the identical promise from each and every sister!
Each had been convinced that she was the only sibling privy to the secret
that her baby sister was a little thief! For twenty years, none had broken
her promise by telling. When the truth of the situation came over us, our
wild and hysterical laughter could be heard throughout Nura's palace.
I felt a keen sense of relief. Surely I was protected by many of God's
angels, for each of my sisters was devout and said many daily prayers.
In a joking manner, Tahani asked me point- blank. "Sultana, we would
like to know if God has answered our prayers. Have you taken anything not
belonging to you since the time of your youth?"
I could see that my sisters expected me to reply in a negative manner, for
they could not imagine that I was still a petty thief. I could not keep my
face from a trembling smile, and I began to fidget, remembering Mi's
Wonder Garment, which was packed away with my belongings in the room that
I was occupying.
Surprised at my hesitant reaction, Nura said, "Sultana?"
"Wait a moment," I said, and ran to get the garment I had stolen
from Ali's home.
No one could believe her eyes or ears when I returned to the room wearing
Mia's under pants, and when I read the instruction sheet and placed two
bananas into the special "strategic" pouch, Nura tried to be
firm in her disapproval, but hysterical laughter over whelmed my sisters,
and three had to leave the room, while another claimed that she had wet
her pants.
We could not control our glee, even after three of Nura's servants came
running into the palace, fearful of the tremendous noise they had heard
from distant gardens.
After calm returned, the telephone rang, and our thoughts turned to more
serious matters. The caller was Nashwa asking for her mother, Sara. It
seemed that Nashwa was telephoning from Monaco to complain to her mother
about her cousin Amani. My daughter had been following her cousin in
Monaco and had appointed herself a one-woman ''vice and social corruption
committee."
Nashwa's indignation was running high, for Amani had gone so far as to
take her cousin's makeup, nail polish, and sunglasses, saying that for
Nashwa to wear such things made her a violator of Islamic mores!
Nashwa told her mother that if someone did not control Amani, she was
going to have three French friends follow her that evening and strip off
her clothes, leaving her clad only in her underwear in an area filled with
tourists. That should get the prude's mind set on topics other than
Nashwa's morality.
The evening's conversation shifted away from Al's underpants, and none of
my sisters could shake the irony of Sultana's daughter caught in a
religious fervor while Sara's child was happily lounging in discos.
I left the room for a moment to call Kareem, advising him of the tension
between our child and her cousin. My husband said that he had already
decided to keep Amani by his side until she was safely returned to Riyadh,
for our daughter had that very day con fronted the manager of a hotel in
Monte Carlo, demanding that he provide separate elevators in his
establishment for men and women, and advising him that unrelated members
of the same sex had no business confined together in such close quarters.
I rolled my eyes in disbelief, agreeing when Kareem declared that Amani
should be put into counseling when they returned to the kingdom. Maha's
successful recovery from her earlier mental unbalance had turned Kareem
into a staunch believer of psychiatric counseling.
I lived a short moment of relief, thinking of how Maha had rejoined our
family as a responsible girl. My oldest child's thoughts now centered on
her education and plans for a normal life.
When I reentered the room, my sisters were involved in a heated discussion
of the threat of militant fundamentalism, which was now challenging our
family's leadership of Saudi Arabia, and my thoughts returned to Amani and
her extreme interest in her faith. Each of my sisters stated that her
husband had ex pressed great fear of the growing gap between the monarchy
and the pristine ideological movement now gathering power. The Islamic
fundamentalist leaders are known to be young, educated, and urbanized.
This group preaches an uncompromising return to the Koran and is on a
collision course with our regime, which is linked to the modernization and
Westernization of the kingdom.
I said little even though I had done much investigation of the movement,
for my own child was a part of an extremist group that had indicated
opposition to the monarchy. I felt too close to the subject at hand and
made myself busy preparing pillows to place behind Reema's head.
I asked myself, what disturbances would I live to see in the land I called
home? Would my own child be a part of the opposition that brought down the
legitimate government of Saudi Arabia?
When talk of the Muslim extremists ran dry, Reema said she had another bit
of news that she wished to share.
I hoped that another one of my sins was not going to be made public
knowledge, and I tried to keep a blank face.
Reema spoke without emotion, saying that Saleem had made plans to take
another wife.
While our mother had been greatly humiliated by our father's taking four
wives, Reema was the first of my sisters to undergo such an ordeal.
My chest tightened and my eyes flooded with tears, but Reema asked that
none of us cry, for she would happily live her life as an ignored wife.
Nothing could shake her resolve to live a life of peace, so long as she
was not separated from her children. She declared in a strong voice that
she was happy, but Reema's eyes spoke a different truth.
I knew my sister had loved Saleem with a true and honest love. Reema's
reward for being a faithful wife and loving mother had not come to her on
earth.
For her sake, Reema's sisters made a pretense of belief and congratulated
our sister on her small victory.
Nura announced that Nada had once more become Ali's wife. Our brother had
signed a document giving Nada wealth in her own right, along with a trip
to Paris to purchase diamonds and rubies fit for the queen of England.
When Tahani asked how he had overcome the religious edict that forbade him
to remarry Nada, I was not surprised to hear that Ali had hired a Saudi
cousin to wed Nada without consummating the union. After the marriage, a
divorce had taken place. Then Ali and Nada had wed again.
Remembering the teachings of Islam concerning such deeds, I told my
sisters that what Ali had done was not allowed. The Prophet himself said
that God curses men who are parties to such an arrangement, for it is
nothing more than a trick against God and is considered a grave matter.
"Who is going to intervene?" Sara asked.
Nura admitted the truth-no one. "But God knows," she added, and
each of us felt great sympathy for Ali, for he had piled yet another sin
upon his soul.
The evening was coming to an end when the telephone rang once again. One
of Nura's servants came and said that Tahani was wanted on the telephone.
Those of us who had left our loved ones in Monaco thought perhaps there
was another crisis and told Tahani to spare us the details of our
children's follies.
When we heard her cry out, we rushed to her side. Once she replaced the
telephone on the hook, it took us many moments to calm our sister, and our
fears were high that a member of our family had met with misfortune.
A grief-stricken Tahani finally spoke. "Sameera has died."
No one could speak, no one could move.
Could it be true?
I counted on my fingers, trying to calculate the number of years that dear
girl had spent locked in the woman's room, a padded cell in the home of
her savage uncle.
"How long?" Sara asked, seeing me struggle with my memories.
"Almost fifteen years," I told her.
"I have committed a grave sin," Tahani confessed. "For many
years I have asked God to take her uncle from this earth!"
We had heard that Sameera's uncle was wrinkled and frail, and that
knowledge had given us hope that after his death, Sameera would return to
us.
I sarcastically commented, "We should have known that such a one
could not be depended upon to die soon enough."
Over the years, many had tried to win Sameera's release, saying that her
sin did not merit eternal earthly punishment, but her uncle felt that he
alone knew the wishes of God, and his harsh verdict had not been lifted.
Sameera had been brilliant, beautiful, and sweet in temperament. What
nature had given her, cruel fortune took away. As a result of her uncle's
unbelievable cruelty, Sameera died, completely alone, locked away in the
darkest of rooms, kept from any human contact for fifteen long years.
Tahani began to sob, her cries chopping through her words. It took her
many moments to reveal that Sameera had been buried on this day. Her
auntie confided that despite her emaciation, Sameera was still beautiful
when wrapped in the white linen shroud in which she would appear before
God.
How could we bear the pain of her cruel death?
Choking back sobs, I tried to remember a verse from Khalil
Gibran on the question of death. I first whispered it, and as my memory of
it returned, I slowly raised my voice, until all could hear me. "Only
when you drink from the river of silence, shall you indeed sing. And, when
you have reached the mountain top, then you
shall begin to climb. And, when the earth shall claim your limbs, then
shall you truly dance."
My sisters and I joined hands, remembering that we were as a chain-strong
as the strongest link, weak as the weakest link.
As never before, we belonged to a sisterhood more powerful than that of
our own blood. Never again would we sit back and wonder at the cruelty of
men and the obscene arbitrariness of innocent female death brought about
by men's evil.
I said, "Let the world know that the women of Saudi Arabia are
gaining strength in the knowledge that they are right."
My sisters looked at me one by one, and for the first time I knew that
each of them understood why I do the things that I do.
At that moment I promised myself that somehow the moral order of our world
would be changed, and right would triumph some day.
The great human rights movement for women in Saudi Arabia has just begun
and it will not be defeated by men of indoctrinated ignorance.
The men of my land will grow to mourn my existence, for I will never cease
to challenge the evil precedents they have allowed to prevail against the
women of Saudi Arabia. |
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