Princess Sultana's Circle (34 page)

I looked at Sara before
turning back to face our men. “Never again will I stand by while a
woman is being abused.” I squared my shoulders in determination.
“If Shadi tries to take this woman away, he will have to kill me
first!”

Sara stepped forward and
seized my hand. “Shadi will have to kill me, also.”

Dunia cried out. “Oh!
Allah! Help us!”

Nura pulled me close to
her. “Sultana and Sara are right. We cannot allow a situation that
shames Allah, Himself.”

Together, Tahani and Haifa
walked over to embrace me.

Haifa said, “I stand with
my sisters.”

Tahani’s eyes were wet with
tears as she stared at her son, Taher. “Our sons have committed an
evil act. I, too, will join Sultana’s circle.”

A fierce-looking Ali stared
at our husbands, as he spoke contemptuously. “You cannot control
your women?”

Kareem appeared stricken,
but said nothing. Not knowing what to do, Ahmed chose to do
nothing.

Only Asad spoke up. “Our
wives are right. We must not support such evil. If our sons need
sexual companions, there are many women who will willingly
participate. There is no need for our sons to ever take a woman by
force.”

The changing situation did
not sweeten Shadi’s temper. He shouted, “You are interfering in my
business! This woman belongs to me, and there is nothing you can do
about it!”

Dunia, who had recovered by
now, stood up and rushed to Shadi’s side. Standing arm-in-arm with
her son, she looked at my sisters and me.

“
You are not thinking
clearly, sisters. For their health, our sons must have women.
Otherwise, there will be a build-up of their body fluids, and this
will lead to grave illnesses.”

Nura wearily shook her head
at such ignorance. “You speak nonsense, Dunia.”

Dunia persisted. “Remember
that this woman was purchased from her own father. He received more
money than he could ever hope to earn in more than five years! He
was pleased to sell his daughter! Pleased, I tell you! My son did
nothing wrong!”

I was so disgusted that I
could not even look at Dunia, my own sister.

Ali began to speak, “Dunia
is right. Without available women to have sex, our unmarried sons
will sicken.”

Asad raised his voice, “Are
we men animals, then, Ali?”

Ali then foolishly tried to
put the blame on Allah! “Asad,” he said, “Great Allah, Himself,
made us the way we are.”

At this Ahmed finally burst
out, “Oh, shut-up, Ali. You speak as though all men are weak and
helpless fools.”

Ali’s face grew bright red
but the force of Ahmed’s words silenced him.

I exchanged a quick look of
satisfaction with Sara and began to walk toward the exit of the
tent.

A battle of wills had
begun, and I knew that if I did not prevail, that the life of yet
another woman would be destroyed.

I challenged Shadi one last
time.

“
I am going to Veena,
Shadi. If you want her badly enough to kill me, then she is
yours.”

“
And, me, too.” Sara
declared without a moment of hesitation.

“
And, me.” Tahani said in a
low voice.

“
I am coming, too,
Sultana.” Haifa called out.

Nura’s voice was loud and
clear. “Shadi, your Aunties will form a circle of protection around
Veena. I advise you not to try to cross it.”

“
Sultana’s circle of
safety,” Tahani said suddenly in a fierce tone.

Apart from Dunia, all my
sisters joined me as I left the tent.

Apart from Asad, who
quickly followed Sara, our men were left alone, standing in
shock.

Epilogue

On that same evening that
my sisters and I circled protectively around Veena, our husbands
finally moved to support us. Veena was transported to a private
medical clinic in Riyadh where her internal injuries were treated.
We discovered that the poor Veena had lost several pints of blood
during the gruesome attack. It turned out she was only fourteen
years old. Later, after she was deemed medically fit for release
from the clinic, my sisters and I learned the details of Veena’s
pitiful life.

She was born in the slums
of Lahore, Pakistan. The family lived in a flimsy shack built from
scrap lumber, sheets of metal, and cardboard that Veena’s parents
had gathered from one of Lahore’s many city dumps. Her father was a
cobbler; her mother, a street beggar.

Veena’s childhood had been
brutish. She had never been to school, but instead, from the time
she could walk, she had been a beggar like her mother.

Other children were born to
Veena’s parents until the family eventually swelled to twelve.
Rarely was there enough food for everyone. Veena could not recall a
single instance of eating food until her stomach was
full.

In Pakistan, as in Saudi
Arabia, there is no value placed on women’s lives. Too often, poor
families sacrifice their daughters for the general good of the
family. And, that is what happened with Veena.

Veena was always a small,
pretty child, and when she reached puberty, her attractiveness was
noted by a number of people on the streets in their slum
neighborhood. Several women known to the family began to tell
stories of other pretty young girls who had brought a high price
from wealthy brothel keepers who were always looking for new
virgins.

Since Veena’s family all
lived together in one room, she had occasion to observe her father
and mother in sexual acts; therefore, she knew the meaning of the
women’s words. Understanding that she would have no say in her
future, though, Veena remained silent.

Soon Veena’s beauty was
noticed by a man who walked around the city streets observing young
female beggars. He sought out Veena’s mother and told her that
assuming her daughter was still a virgin, there was an opportunity
for the family to make a large sum off their daughter’s purity.
Fearful of contracting AIDS, and other venereal diseases, many
wealthy men were looking for young untouched girls. The man offered
a small sum as a down payment, promising that if Veena were sold to
a rich man, he would return with additional money.

Veena’s mother quickly ran
to her husband’s cobbler station to discuss the man’s offer. After
returning with her husband, the three adults agreed upon a price
for the hapless Veena.

Veena did recall that her
parents both seemed saddened at her departure, but she understood
that the money she brought into the family would ensure a year of
living well for eleven other people.

Veena asked for time to say
goodbye to her siblings, but the man said he had other transactions
to complete, and if Veena did not go with him immediately, that he
would cancel the arrangement with her parents.

Veena left with the
stranger. Her heart was fluttering in terror, but she steeled
herself for the benefit of her younger sisters and
brothers.

For over a month, Veena was
kept with ten other girls in a small house in Lahore. She was
pleased at the opportunity to take frequent baths, and to wear
decent clothes. For the first time in her life, she received ample
food. Veena thought she might like to stay in that house forever.
But that was not to be, for various rich men, most of them
foreigners, regularly visited the house to look over the available
stock of young girls. It was every girl’s wish was to be purchased
by an old man—for it was known that their sexual demands would be
less than that of a younger man.

One by one, the other young
girls were purchased and taken away. Veena then watched sadly as a
number of unhappy girls not chosen by individual clients were
transported to brothels in the city. Veena actually felt herself
lucky when she was told that she had been purchased for the
pleasure of only one man, a rich man from the Middle East, a man by
the name of Shadi.

Veena had never met Shadi,
as he had selected her from a book of photographs. He was staying
at the home of one of his Pakistani partners, and he had not wanted
that man or his family to know that, while in their country, he had
purchased a young virgin.

Veena finally came
face-to-face with Shadi several days before leaving Lahore. The
seller of young girls had taken her to a coffee shop where Shadi
could give final approval of his purchase. The meeting was so
fleeting that Veena did not exchange a word with her new owner. She
was disappointed to see that, indeed, he was a young, strong man.
She remembered what the other girls had said about the sexual
appetites of young men, and she was frightened. But Veena had no
say in her future. And, too soon, the day arrived that Veena was to
forever depart from her country.

On the plane ride from
Pakistan to Saudi Arabia, Shadi’s male servants had sat with Veena
in coach-class, while Shadi remained in first-class. Within two
hours of their plane landing in Riyadh, Shadi had left for the
desert to visit with his parents and other family members. He had
taken Veena and several other servants along on the trip with him.
Veena claimed that Shadi never once spoke to her on the trip,
although she saw him staring at her on several
occasions.

Waiting until after the
family retired, Shadi had taken his two cousins into Veena’s
quarters. He had told his two cousins, “Here is that whore I bought
in Pakistan.”

Although Veena had prepared
herself to have sex with a man she did not know, she had never
imagined that her first sexual experience would be a brutal assault
by three strange men.

After being roughly
stripped of her clothing, she had been raped first by Shadi. Veena
wept as she declared that she had never known such pain! After all,
her mother had never screamed during the sexual act with her
father. She had no idea that a man’s sexual organ was so big, and
would hurt so much.

When she had begun to cry
and plead for them to stop, the men had merely laughed and covered
her mouth. When the third man climbed on her, Veena truly believed
that she was going to die from the assault. And then, miraculously,
she was saved. But what was to become of her now?

While my sisters and I
wished for nothing more than to send Veena back to her parents, we
realized that her family’s poverty might once again drive them to
sell Veena.

I was the one chosen to
tell Veena that it had been decided that she would live in Sara’s
home, to help my sister care for her younger children. My sisters
and I knew that no one in our family would dare take any action
against Sara, for this sister is greatly loved by
everyone.

The joy I saw reflected on
Veena’s face at this news justified every moment of fear and anger
I had undergone to free this young woman. Still, my sisters and I
were brokenhearted to hear Veena’s story, for we knew too well that
there were many thousands of similar stories. We sat together for
many hours discussing what we might do to stop this ongoing and
senseless abuse of innocent women and girls.

During this sad time, the
world was shocked by the death of the lovely Diana, Princess of
Wales. Princess Diana’s death momentarily took our minds away from
Veena’s cruel life. Several of us had met this extraordinary woman
during the years she toured the world as a royal princess. Although
none of us could claim to be a close friend of Diana, we had all
admired her. Now, we could not imagine such a young and vibrant
woman on the way to her grave.

During the days before her
funeral, watching the television coverage of her life, I learned
much good about this Princess that I had not known before.
Apparently, no person was too poor or too sick to attract this good
woman’s attention. And, she was well-known for faithfully following
up on her interests with continuing assistance and commitment. In
her tremendous kindness, Princess Diana proved that one person can
make a real difference. Every act of kindness generated by this one
person resonated as a pebble dropped in water, as a ripple which
then spread far beyond the original gesture.

This idea flowed so
strongly into my mind that I finally began to understand what I
might do to help other women.

I called my sisters
together.

“
I suddenly realize the
only way we can help women, is to do what we have done with poor
Veena.” I said. “Each time one of us hears of an individual
mistreated woman, we will move together to help that one woman in
any way we can.” I paused, “We’ll create a circle of
support.”

Tahani smiled, “Yes, we
will become known as Sultana’s circle.”

Haifa expressed her
enthusiasm. “Together, we’ll be a great force.”

Sara nodded. “I have female
friends that I can trust. They, too, must begin to seek out women
with troubled destinies.”

Nura squeezed my hand.
“Your circle will benefit many women, Sultana.”

Never have I felt more
contented with my life, than at that moment.

Following the example of
the gentle and loving Princess Diana, I know that this spiral of
caring will expand from mother to daughter and down through the
chain of life, even reaching through the centuries
ahead.