by Jean Sasson
I sighed heavily, thinking of how life would have been so much sweeter had my mother not left this earth when I was only a young girl. As a Muslim, I am not supposed to question God’s wisdom when those we love pass from this earth, but it is impossible to fight back the feelings of love and yearn for her. So long as I am on this earth, I will mourn and miss my mother.
After I left my mother, I walked to the small private area where my family takes the noontime meal. I was surprised but pleased to see my three children sitting with Kareem, all seemingly in the best of humors. Even Maha and Amani were exchanging smiles.
“What is this?” I asked with a tinge of shock in my voice.
“Darling,” Kareem said, “I was about to come for you. Last evening, the children and I agreed to meet for lunch. When we arrived, we all wanted to wait so that we might eat our meal with you.”
I nodded, glancing at my children, all of whom had broad smiles on their faces and were looking at me with extreme affection.
“Sit, darling.” Kareem caressed my arm and hand, as he led me to a comfortable chair. “We are having your favorite lunch today. There will be chicken salad with grapes and that special French bread you crave from your favorite French restaurant, Paul, on Tahlia Street.”
My mouth watered. There is no better place to have freshly baked croissants and French bread in all of Saudi Arabia.
“Abdullah was in the area and he thought to pick up a few things for you there.”
I flashed a smile to my son. He is the most thoughtful of all my children.
“Then, darling, we will have Lebanese honeyed pastries—some of your favorite, in fact, from Set Al Sham. I sent my driver to Sulimaniyyah for the sweets and made sure that they were made fresh today.”
“That is so nice, Kareem.” I was very curious to ask how it was that my warring family was now behaving so lovingly, reminding me of the sweet pair of lovebirds that we had recently given to Little Sultana to keep on her balcony. But I made a promise to myself to let my family talk this out. I generally take the lead in family discussions, but I was ready to sit back to see what everyone had to say for themselves.
Maha motioned for me to give her my hand, but just at that moment one of our new female servers from Sri Lanka brought tea and we were quiet until she was out of range, although I am certain that our servants hear much of what we say because they live in our home and it is necessary for them to be near to the people to whom they provide services.
Maha glanced around me to ensure that we were alone before reaching for my hand a second time. I placed my small hand in Maha’s much larger hand, wondering for a moment about birth and how it is very small women can give birth to such large, healthy, and strong children, but I brushed that thought aside when Maha began to speak.
“Mother, I believe that Amani, Father, and I owe apologies. I know that you and Abdullah are the innocent parties in this matter. Amani has told me that you did not share my secret but instead she waited for you to go to your dressing room before searching your bedroom. That is where she found the letter I sent you. From what Amani tells me, you had obviously just read my letter because you were in anguish when she walked in to visit. Her curiosity was aroused and when you did not tell her the problem, she decided to find out on her own. That is when she discovered my secret.”
Maha gazed at Amani, who nodded her head and had the decency to look ashamed, as she should. “I will try to stop my sneaky ways, Mother,” she faintly muttered.
I laughed, but not loudly. It would be the same to ask a leopard to remove its spots as it would be to stop Amani from nosing around in other people’s affairs. But I held my tongue and said nothing.
Maha continued. “Amani told me that she had just read some materials on the Islamic State, and knew their location and how close the Syrian men of ISIS were to Turkey. She had read that they do not respect borders and that it is routine for them to attempt to kidnap those who are working with the Syrians in the refugee camps.” Maha squeezed my head. “My sister’s fear drove her to reveal my secret to Father. She did not know what would happen but never dreamed that there would be such an eruption.”
“This is all true, Sister,” Amani said softly.
“Father has apologized as well. He now knows that he should have asked me to come home and discuss my charity work rather than arrive in Turkey like a dictator, spouting out orders and handing out cash. All of this just to keep his own child from the camp, despite the fact many young and innocent people have died, and others are in dire need of help.”
Maha looked at her father. “My life is no more important than any other life on this earth. Those people in the camp deserve the chance to live, too, and most particularly the children. Every adult should be willing to give his or her life to save a child who has had so little time to experience this world.”
Kareem squirmed in his chair. He didn’t speak, but he blinked his eyes in recognition of the truth of what his daughter was saying. And it was good for him to hear her speak so honestly and so directly.
I gave Kareem a slight smile, remembering the young man he used to be. In the early years of our marriage, my husband relished talking for long hours about all sorts of important issues. As the years have passed, he has become more private and keeps most of his thoughts and ideas to himself. Truthfully, I miss the young Kareem, who was idealistic and vocal about his ideas. I now hoped this luncheon might encourage him to realize that his communication skills had suffered over the years and that his family would welcome his thoughts and reflections.
Maha paused, giving Amani a meaningful look.
Thus prompted, Amani said, “Oh yes. Mommy, I agree with all that Maha has said. I should have found the goodness and strength not to be sneaking around and, of course, I know that some secrets are meant to remain secret and that I should not have looked through your personal things. This was an important secret, and I should have controlled my inquisitiveness. I was wrong, Mummy.”
It is so rare for Amani to apologize and to acknowledge guilt for her actions that in my astonishment I could find nothing to say, although I did lean in and give both daughters a kiss on their faces. When one is a mother, there is no way not to love your children, despite their disagreeable actions.
Quite obviously, the apology lineup had been decided upon prior to my arrival. All three of my children looked at Kareem with expectation.
“Sultana, you are sometimes wiser than your husband. And certainly, when it comes to our children and our reactions to the problems that arise in families, you seem always to know what is the right thing to do or say. From this time onward, I will seek your advice before taking action. All decisions about family matters will be made jointly. I am sorry for my hasty trip to Turkey and for the chaos I caused.” Turning to the children, Kareem then said, “I hope this is a lesson we can all learn.”
Abdullah was not there to right any wrongs, but he did speak. “Mother, we were worried about you last evening. I have never seen you so upset. Everyone in the family has agreed to be more careful with their behavior.”
I smiled. “With all these apologies, I hardly know what to say, except thank you.”
I could see that Kareem was relieved his words meant a great deal to me and so he continued to talk. “Sultana, I believed you were on the edge of a nervous breakdown, and we were all so frightened. We want you to be well, happy, and enjoying your family.”
Maha agreed. “We really believed that you would need to see a doctor last night, Mother, to check your mental state. We were all panicked beyond belief. None of us left until Father slipped in to make sure that you were sleeping. Only then did we retire to our beds.”
“Your father slipped in? Is that correct, Kareem?” I asked in disbelief.
Kareem once again looked uncomfortable. Several years before, I had put a special lock on my quarters so that when I wanted to have complete peace and relief from my dramatic family I could feel that no one could enter my most private sanc
tum. I had told Kareem that even he should not have a key. I must have a retreat where I felt myself totally private.
“You have a key?”
“Just one.”
“And how did you get the key, Husband?”
I believe that Kareem considered telling me a lie. He opened his mouth. Then he shut his mouth. Then he opened it again.
“Kareem?”
Maha realized she had given up her father’s secret. She blushed.
“The truth, Husband. How did you get a key?”
His words rushed out. “I paid the contractor a small bonus. I felt that we both need access to every room in our home, Sultana. What if you became ill behind locked doors? I cannot allow such a potential danger.”
I swallowed my anger, as I did not wish to fight with my husband in front of my children.
“Husband, let us discuss this later.”
“Yes. I agree.”
My poor husband was trapped and he knew it. He squirmed a bit more and then reached in his briefcase, which is always nearby, opened it, and took out a velvet jewelry box from one of the most expensive stores in Riyadh. “This is for you, darling. I love you very much, Sultana, and want you to be happy.”
Kareem knows that I no longer collect jewelry and that I have already given most of my jewels to my daughters. Maha had sold her collection, but Amani was keeping hers for her daughter.
I reluctantly opened the case, as I did not wish to feign pleasure over something as cold and impersonal as jewels.
The diamond and emerald set was breathtaking and clearly very expensive. An excited Amani counted twenty diamonds and ten emeralds in the necklace, and there were more large stones in the bracelet and the earrings.
I thanked my husband as sincerely as possible, as I knew he had given me the present with very good intentions. Every Saudi prince I know spends enormous sums of money on jewelry for the women in his family, but I am one of the few princesses who truly does not care to collect jewels. I lost the desire to accumulate such valuable baubles many years ago.
I closed the velvet box and leaned over to hug my husband. He enjoys buying presents for all in his family, and most particularly for me. Jewels are an easy gift for someone who is wealthy. I knew that I would probably never wear them, but I would save the jewels for Little Sultana, thinking that she might like to wear them on her wedding or for some other grand occasion.
As if on cue, Little Sultana ran into the room wearing a new electric blue jogging suit, as she had decided to join her aunt Maha in the exercise room that day. She was so cute that she brought smiles to all our faces, and the difficulties and problems of the previous evening seemed forgotten once and for all.
Hopefully, though, some members of my family had been reminded of the importance of keeping secrets for the ones they love.
Within a short twenty-four-hour period, I had known despair and joy. I felt fortunate that all my children were safe and were making an attempt to have a more easy relationship with one another.
I would speak with each of them individually later, for I was unclear as to Maha’s choice, whether to return to Turkey or go back to Europe. And I wished to know for sure that Amani had learned a valuable lesson and would stop her lifelong habit of sneaking around to discover the secrets of others.
I gazed at the ones I loved. Abdullah was laughing with his small daughter, while Kareem looked on proudly. Amani and Maha were discussing the women in Pakistan, and Maha was asking to see the photographs.
For the first time, I felt the years of my life gaining on me and felt myself the matriarch of my young family. Furthermore, for the moment, I could find nothing to fret about, and that was a wonderful feeling.
Little did I know that when I heard again from Dr. Meena the dear woman would present a rash of problems for me to consider and inform me of an unexpected but important project that needed my attention. The undertaking would cause the most serious argument in years with my husband, leading him to speak of divorce for the first time in our marriage.
8 - Worthy Saudi Men
I was eagerly anticipating my meeting with Dr. Meena, but the day before Little Sultana was stricken by an unexplained and extremely high fever. Abdullah first telephoned his father, and a concerned Kareem rushed home from his offices. Amani heard the news from Zain, Abdullah’s wife, and insisted she leave her children for the day and be with us. I barred her from visiting since we were uncertain if Little Sultana had contracted a contagious disease.
“No, darling,” I answered to Amani’s pleas. “May Allah forbid that all four of our beloved grandchildren become ill at once, possibly with a perilous disease. Stay with your children and protect them from a potential infection.”
These days, when any Saudi is struck with a sudden fever, most tremble in terror of the disease originally known as severe acute respiratory syndrome, or SARS, which killed nearly a thousand people in a global outbreak in 2003.
This is because we have our own version of SARS in this region. Known as MERS (short for Middle East respiratory syndrome), it is a virus that is related to the common cold, but it can also cause a high fever and pneumonia. In the most serious cases, kidney failure or even death is a concern.
Much to the alarm of the men in my family, the al-Saud rulers, the virus erupted in our own country in 2012 and has infected a confirmed 1,034 persons since that time. Of this number, 457 have died. It has since spread from the Persian Gulf to France, Great Britain, Tunisia, Italy, and Germany. The outbreak is still ongoing, although it is not as rampant as before.
A worried Abdullah and Zain transported their small daughter the short distance from their palace to our own, where she would be treated in our palace medical clinic,
which has all the latest equipment and is as well appointed as a private medical facility can be.
Kareem had had the clinic built some years ago so there would be no unnecessary time spent driving to hospitals in Riyadh should any in our family require medical attention. The trigger for his action occurred the same year that Abdullah obtained his driving license. Kareem fretted endlessly about the horrific traffic we endure in Riyadh and was highly fearful that one of the many inexperienced drivers on our roads might crash into our son’s vehicle. Thankfully, such an accident did not occur, but the clinic was hailed as a great addition to our palace regardless, in the event one of our children or grandchildren might sustain an injury or become ill with a contagious disease. We quickly realized the grand convenience of such a facility and so the project grew from a small clinic to a larger one. Kareem increased the medical staff so that our huge workforce of several hundred domestic and office employees had quick, easy, and excellent medical care. In the beginning, Kareem had employed only one physician, but he soon saw the need for a total of four European employees: Those who come to live and work in the kingdom take on very long hours and, in return, ask that their contracts include a generous amount of leave time to enable them to return to their home countries each year, sometimes for as long as three months, for total rest and relaxation.
The four physicians, two males and two females, who are all internists, rotate their working schedules so that three physicians remain in their quarters on the palace grounds at all times, while the fourth takes his or her scheduled leave to visit family, go on an annual holiday vacation or attend a conference. The medical staff quarters are just five minutes’ walking distance from the clinic.
Nothing is more satisfying for me personally than to know that the best care is available for my children and grandchildren, as well as for the people who work so hard to keep our household running smoothly.
Although our children and grandchildren have all suffered the usual childhood diseases, nothing had been serious to this point. As for Little Sultana, I was hopeful that she was suffering from nothing more than a common childhood fever. With this in my mind, Kareem and I were waiting together, albeit impatiently, at the clinic to see Little Sultana with our own eyes.
Finally, the family arrived. My heart plunged in true terror when Abdullah very gently and tenderly lifted Little Sultana from the backseat of his automobile. Her face was flushed a very bright red, and she was covered in tiny droplets of perspiration. I knew instantly that her fever was extremely high. Our precious child refused to open her eyes even when her mother and father spoke her name, nudged her shoulder, and asked her to respond. Abdullah placed her on a portable hospital bed that was rolled to the clinic terrace by two of the female aides. Kareem and I, much alarmed by the sight of the child, followed behind.
Just then I heard the unexpected clamor of a loud clanking noise, and there was Maha, roller-skating on the pavement toward us! She had been exercising when one of the servants located her whereabouts and informed her of the emergency. Maha gave us a grim look but said nothing. Without exchanging a word, we all went into the clinic. Maha did not even bother to release take off her skates. Normally, I would have expressed amusement, watching Maha deftly walk on the grass in her skates, but at that moment nothing could have entertained me.
When we entered the sitting room of the clinic, I saw a male physician standing over Little Sultana, a German doctor who was both serious and solemn in his manner. I studied his face very carefully as he assessed the child. I am a great admirer of German people and the fine work they do in the kingdom, but I find that they are not the sort of people one can easily “read.”