Jean P Sasson - [Princess 02] (29 page)

I met my sisters on the staircase and could see from their eyes that they'd had no success with Ali's wife.

Nada was leaving Ali.

Unlike poor Reema, Nada was not worried that her children would be taken, for Ali had little love for his female offspring and had made no secret to his wife that their three daughters were of no value to him and would be allowed to live with their mother.

I left without saying goodbye. In the car, I cradled my gin and tonic. My thievery of Ali's personal possession had brought forth childish emotions, and I felt quite daring as a princess in the House of Al Sa'ud riding down the streets of Riyadh, enjoying an alcoholic drink.

I asked Sara why Nada was leaving the tempting life of an Al Sa'ud, for she had a dubious family background, and it would be difficult for her to duplicate the wealth enjoyed as a wife of Ali. It had been Nada's great beauty, not her family connections, that had won her a husband of immense riches.

Nura said that from what she could gather it seemed that Nada and Ali's divorce had come about over an evening of love.

Nada had tearfully confessed to my sisters that she had been divorced on all three occasions over the issue of sex, saying that Ali insisted she accommodate him at odd hours in the night, often waking her from a heavy sleep. The week before, Nada had refused her husband sex, and Ali had insisted, saying that when a man calls his wife to intercourse, she must not resist him even though she might be on a camel! When Nada still refused, Ali had divorced her.

Sara then told me that Nada had made a surprising second declaration, saying that while she had some affection for Ali's other wives, she had grown increasingly weary of the bastards that sprang from his infidelities, for our brother was the father of seventeen legitimate children and twenty-three illegitimate offspring. The compound that Nada called home was overrun with her husband's concubines and their children.

At the mention of all that sexual activity, which had produced endless offspring, I could not avoid thoughts of Ali's Wonder Garment and laughed until tears streamed down my face, refusing to divulge the source of my uncontrolled merriment to my two sisters, who feared that the day's events now threatened their youngest sister's sanity.

"
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

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 often 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 requested 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 Ali'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 Ali'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 Ali'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 confronted 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 re-entered 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 expressed 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.