Jean P Sasson - [Princess 02] (15 page)

Walking up the steep slope of Mount Arafat, I cried, "Here I am, O God! Here I am!" This is the day when God erases all of our sins and confers his forgiveness.

For six hours my family and I, with the other pilgrims, stood in the heat of the desert. We prayed and read from the Koran. My daughters, like many other pilgrims, held umbrellas over their heads to seek the shade, but we felt the need to suffer the effects of a baking sun, as a testimony of my faith.

Many men and women were fainting all around me, and they were transported on stretchers to the sun-stroke vans, manned by hospital attendants.

At dusk we moved to the open plain between Mount Arafat and Mina. We rested for a while and then started our prayers once again.

Abdullah and Kareem gathered small stones for the following morning's rituals, and without family communication-for each of us showed signs of physical weariness-we rested fitfully that last night and pre pared ourselves for the final day of Haj.

The last morning we chanted, "In the name of God Almighty I do this, and in hatred of the devil and his pretense! God is Great!" We each cast seven sets of the small stones gathered by Kareem and Abdullah at the stone pillars symbolizing the devil that stand along the road to Mina. This is the spot where Ibrahim drove Satan away when the devil tried to tell him not to sacrifice Ismail as God had ordered. Each of the stones was representative of a bad thought, or a temptation to sin, or the burdens endured by the pilgrims.

We were cleansed of our sins! Now, in the final ritual of the Haj, we traveled to the plain of Mina.

There, sheep, goats, and camels were being butchered to commemorate Ibrahim's willingness to sacrifice his beloved son to God. Butchers roamed throughout the crowd of pilgrims, offering to butcher an animal for a certain sum. Once paid, they held the animal with care, and faced its head toward the Kaaba at the Holy Mosque, all the while praying, "In the name of God! God is Great!"

After their prayer, the butchers quickly slit the throat of the animal, allowing the blood to drain prior to skinning the beast.

Hearing the cries of the poor beasts and watching the blood run freely, poor Amani screamed as one insane and dropped to the ground in a faint. Kareem and Abdullah carried her to one of the small trailers that are set about for the faint of heart and the weak.

They soon returned, saying that Amani was resting comfortably but was still crying, paralyzed with grief at what she deemed to be the senseless slaughter of many beasts.

Kareem gave me an I-told-you-so look. I felt some small degree of happiness that a recognizable part of Amani's personality had survived intact and hoped that Kareem was right in his assessment that once we departed Makkah our daughter would be her old self.

As we watched the violent activity, I reminded myself that it was an important ritual, that the animals are sacrificed to remind the pilgrims of the lessons they have learned at Haj: sacrifice, obedience to God, mercy to all men, and faith.

Since childhood, I have always been fascinated with the skinning process-the butcher cutting a thin slit in the leg of the animal, then pumping air through the slit to separate the skin from the flesh. The animals grew larger and larger before my eyes, while the butcher struck the body of the animal with a strong stick to distribute the air evenly.

The four days of celebration now began in earnest. I knew that Muslims all over the world were joining us, their hearts longing to be in the holy city of Makkah. Shops were closing, families were receiving new clothes, and vacations were being taken.

We cut off locks of our hair to signify the end of our pilgrimage and then we women exchanged our plain garb for colorful dresses, while the men put on clean cotton thobes, the white of the garments shining as bright as new-spun silk.

That afternoon, the actual feast began. Amani was still pale but had recovered sufficiently to join in the festivities, though she refused to partake of any meat. Our family gathered at our tent, and we exchanged small gifts and congratulated each other. We said our prayers, and then sat together at a long table and ate a wonderful meal of lamb with rice.

What remained of our feast was given to the poor. While many of the pilgrims would pray and repeat their rituals over the next few days, our family decided to return to our home in Jeddah to celebrate further. 

We prepared our departure.

My children were now entitled to place the honored title of Haji before their first names. In spite of the fact that I knew they would not do so, this term of respect reminds all Muslims that a person has fulfilled the fifth pillar of Islam. I knew that we had pleased God by doing Haj.

Now, I prayed for God to please me by releasing my daughter Amani from the fundamentalist leanings that seemed to grip her soul. I knew that mental instability could lend sanctity to the most extreme doctrine. I did not want my daughter sacrificed to the militant ideals, so common to many religions, which I had struggled diligently against from the moment of understanding.

It was not to be. Whether I had pleased God or not, his decision concerning my daughter failed to please me.

The trip to Makkah would later prove to be both a blessing and a misfortune for my family. While Kareem and I grew closer than we had been since the first few years of our marriage, and Maha and Abdullah sought to live the lives of responsible citizens, Amani became a gloomy recluse.

My deepest fears were realized.

Just imagine a desert country lying in absolute darkness with many living things swarming blindly
about in it.

-BUDDHA

HAJ WAS COMPLETED and summer was upon us. The hot desert air had disturbed us little during our pilgrimage to Makkah, for our minds were on other, more important matters connected to our spiritual oneness with God.

From Makkah we traveled to our palace in Jeddah, thinking to return to Riyadh the following day. It was not to be. While I was organizing the palace staff for our departure, Kareem entered the room and said that he had canceled our flight, for he had been informed by the air traffic controllers that there was a particularly turbulent sandstorm from the Rub Al Khali desert toward the city of Riyadh.

Even without the effects of a sandstorm, nearly four thousand tons of sand routinely settle on Riyadh every month. Wanting to avoid the terrible sandstorm that would soon assault our capital, dumping sand that stings the eyes, fills the pores, and covers everything, I was pleased that we would remain in Jeddah despite the fact that Jeddah's humidity is more oppressive than the dry desert heat of Riyadh.

Abdullah and Maha were excited to be postponing our return to Riyadh and their normal routines for a few more days. Our two eldest children began to plead with us to take a small holiday while in Jeddah. I looked at my husband and smiled. But the smile faded from my face when I noticed that Amani was sitting off to herself in the corner of the room, her nose in the pages of the Koran. Amani was quickly becoming a gloomy recluse and seemed unconcerned as to where she might be. It appeared to me that my youngest child had raised barriers against her normal desire for harmless fun, for in the past nothing thrilled Amani more than to swim in the lapping, warm waters of the Red Sea.

Determined to avoid becoming even further depressed by Amani's activities, I nodded my head, yes, in response to Kareem's questioning eyes. So, in spite of the humidity and the heat waves that were dancing in the air, Kareem and I decided to remain in Jeddah an additional two weeks, for we could see that our two eldest children were sorely tempted by the blue mirror of the Red Sea waters, which we could view from our palace walls.

I was not displeased at the idea, for I, like many members of the royal family, prefer the lively port city of Jeddah to the staid atmosphere of Riyadh. Thinking that I would take my daughters shopping in the modern shopping malls of Jeddah and entertain family friends who lived in the city, the holiday loomed pleasantly in my mind. Had not Amani chosen this time to expand the growing gap between herself and her family, it would have been a perfect time in another wise imperfect life.

I was down on my knees in the long corridor that connected the various wings of the palace when Maha made the discovery that her mother was attempting to overhear the voice of her sister, Amani, through a crack in the doorway leading into the Turkish baths and indoor garden area.

"Mummy! What are you doing?" Maha called out in a loud, laughing voice, even as I tried to wave her away with my hand.

Inside the room, Amani stopped speaking, and I heard my daughter's determined footsteps as she made her way toward me. I made a desperate attempt to spring to my feet so that I could move away from the door, but my pointed shoe heel caught in the hem of my long dress. I was struggling to free myself when Amani flung the door open and stood staring down at her obviously guilty mother.

I was unnerved by my daughter's accusing face, for her piercing eyes and tight lips made it plain that she clearly understood the situation.

Unable to acknowledge my despicable deed, I began to rub my fingers against some red threads that were worked into the hall carpet, and with what I hoped was a lilt to my voice, I began to lie with the intensity of one who knows her listeners see through her lie.

"Amani! I thought you were in your room!" I exclaimed.

I returned my gaze to the carpet, seriously studying the red threads. "Darlings, have either of you noticed the red stains on this carpet?"

Neither of my daughters responded.

With a frown, I gave the red threads a few more rubs, and with my shoe heel still caught in my dress, I stood up hunched over and limped down the corridor. Short on explanation, I mumbled, "The servants have become quite lax. I fear that the stain is permanent."

Amani, unable to allow me the pleasure of believing that my small lie had been convincing, spoke to my back. "Mummy. This carpet is not stained. Those are red roses woven into the pattern!"

Maha could not restrain herself, and I heard her as she began to giggle.

Amani called out, "Mummy, if you wish to hear my words, you are most welcome. Please, come into the room where I am speaking." The door leading into the garden room slammed with a thunderous clap.

Tears formed in my eyes, and I rushed to my bedroom. I could not bear to look at my beautiful daughter, for since we had returned from Makkah, she had begun to clothe herself from head to toe in black, even going so far as to wear thick black hosiery and long black gloves. In the privacy of our home, only her face remained uncovered, as my child wrapped her beautiful black hair in a stiff black head covering that reminded me of something a goat-herding Yemeni woman might wear. When Amani ventured outside our palace walls, she added a veil of thick black fabric that hindered her vision, even though the religious officials of Jeddah were much more relaxed in pursuing women with unveiled faces than were those of Riyadh. Our desert capital is known throughout the Muslim world for its diligent morals commit tees, which are composed solely of angry faced men who harass innocent women on the city streets.

Nothing I could say or do could persuade my daughter to dress more comfortably than in the heavy black cloak, veil, and headdress that strike most Muslim believers in other Islamic lands as nothing less than ridiculous.

I could not control my sobs. At great risk to my happiness, I had battled most of my life for my daughters to have the right to wear the thinnest of veils, and now my dear child dismissed my small victory as if it had no value.

And that was not the worst! Not content with her newfound faith, Amani felt the zeal of the missionary to convert others to her new way of thinking. Today, Amani had invited her closest friends, along with four of her younger cousins, to our home to hear her read from the Koran and speak about her interpretation of the Prophet's words, which sounded distressingly like the interpretation I had so often heard from the government's Committee for Commendation of Virtue and Prevention of Vice.

The intonation of Amani's childlike voice was ringing in my head as I closed the doors to my private quarters and lay crossways on the bed, wondering how I was going to tackle this latest crisis of motherhood.

While eavesdropping, I had overheard Amani as she read from the holy Koran:

Do ye build a landmark

on every high place

to amuse yourselves?

And, do ye get for yourselves

fine buildings in the hope of living therein forever?

and when ye exert your strong hand

do ye do it like men of absolute power?

Now fear God and obey me And follow not the bidding

of those who are extravagant, and make mischief in the land, and mend not their ways.

My knees shaking, I had listened in horror as Amani stressed the Saudi royal family's similarity to the ostentatious sinners in the verse of the Koran.

"Look around you! Witness the wealth of the home from which I speak! A palace fit for a god could be no finer! Are we not disregarding the very words of God in embracing the opulence of costly indulgence that no human eyes are fit to see?"

Amani's voice went soft, as if she were speaking in a whisper, but I had closed my eyes and leaned closer, listening with great care. I could barely hear Amani's words. "Each of us must banish extravagance from our lives. I will set the first example. The jewels I have received from the wealth of my family name, I will give to the poor. If you believe in the God of Mohammed, you too must follow my example."

I did not hear the audience's response to their leader's outlandish demand, for at that moment, my eldest daughter, Maha, had made my unwelcome presence known.

Now, remembering Amani's promise to divest herself of her jewels, I pushed myself from the bed and hurried to my daughter's bedroom. There, I opened the safe she shared with her sister and removed a large quantity of expensive necklaces, bracelets, earrings, and rings, locking those items into the safe in Kareem's office. I had taken Maha's jewelry along with Amani's, for who knew what offense Amani might commit in her state of religious upheaval.