by Jean Sasson
Fouad, determined to attach himself to the respected Al Sa’ud clan, heard of Samia’s lack of beauty through women who knew her family, but his only desire was to marry a woman of many virtues. He had heard the lurid stories told by his female relatives about alluring women who made the most miserable wives because, carefully coiffed and richly garbed, they could think of little besides expensive homes, many servants, and endless jewels.
Fouad knew sound advice when he heard it. Denouncing the lure of beauty, he said that he desired a woman of humor and warmth. The particular princess he sought, while uncongenial to a poet’s dream, was one of the more popular royals, well loved for her charm and grace.
Thinking that Fouad was a fool, Samia’s family accepted his offer, and a wedding was arranged.
Fouad was well pleased with his wife, for she had a sense of humor, which, Fouad knew, would see them through the tribulations of marriage. His new bride facilitated matters by falling deeply in love with her husband. Theirs was the happiest of unions.
Fouad was a Saudi man who adored his one and only wife and who was the proud father of three sons and one daughter. In one of the stranger quirks of nature, Fouad, a plain-faced man, and Samia, a woman who was pitied for her appearance, produced the most dazzling offspring. Their three sons were strikingly handsome, while their only daughter was a ravishing beauty.
Fayza was the only girl I have ever seen who rivaled Sara’s youthful splendor. Stories about her fair complexion, wistful dark eyes, and long coal-black hair stirred the blood of Saudi Arabian men, who could only imagine the girl’s physical attractiveness from hearsay.
Fayza had other irresistible qualities. She inherited something of her mother and was a girl of rare, dry wit who often enlivened our female gatherings.
I was sorry that Fayza was older than my son, for I thought Abdullah would have loved her intensely, had he been given the opportunity.
Beautiful, witty, and smart, Fayza was a university student at a women’s school in Riyadh. She was in the first courses of predentistry and had aspirations to open a children’s dental facility.
Fouad confided that while he wanted his daughter to attain a degree, in reality she would have little need for working skills. He proudly confided to Kareem that at the completion of his daughter’s education, Fayza would be married into a wealthy family. Meetings had already been conducted, and Fouad had his pick of three influential families. When his daughter graduated, he would allow her to have supervised meetings with each of the three young men in question, allowing his child to have a say in her future.
When Kareem told me Fouad’s plans for Fayza, I felt great joy, thinking how far we had traveled since the days of my youth! None of my sisters had a voice in the choice of their husbands. And, Sara! Who among us could forget the nightmare Sara had endured in her first marriage to an evil man. She was only sixteen when our father forced her to marry a man forty-eight years her senior. The man was very wealthy and had business connections with our family. Sara became hysterical when she heard the news, pleading with our father to have mercy and cancel the wedding. Sadly, not even our mother could reverse his decision. As it turned out, Sara was allowed a divorce after she tried to take her own life. My sister was an innocent girl who knew nothing of men and their sexual appetites, but her husband subjected her to the cruelest of sexual bondage and abuse. It was a tragic union that scarred my sister and almost claimed her life. In my family, I was the only daughter privileged to meet my husband before he became my intimate partner in life. And that decision had resulted from nothing more than the actions of a spirited girl, combined with the determination of a curious suitor.
When I first learned that I would be wed to a royal cousin, I telephoned the sister of that cousin, pretending I had been seriously scarred from a chemical accident. Little in my land is more valued than female beauty. The rumor I purposely started (in order to have my engagement called off) led to a personal meeting with a group of female relatives of that cousin. These women inspected me as if I were a camel in a market, and I reacted in an outrageous manner, snapping and biting until they fled my home. When Kareem heard of my behavior, he insisted upon meeting me. Happily, Kareem and I were attracted to each other, or who knows what else might have occurred.
Now a man raised in the strictest of times was casually speaking of allowing his child the opportunity to take part in the selection of her husband.
How happy I was at the news!
Yet I did not let myself rejoice too long, for I knew that most women in my land still were used as nothing more than political or economic prizes. Nevertheless, I assured myself, each individual battle won would eventually lead to widespread and enormous victory!
*
And now! Fouad’s dreams for his daughter’s future had come to nothing. His only daughter, a beautiful woman sought by the wealthiest men in my land, had eloped with a penniless Palestinian refugee!
“How did this happen?” I asked my husband.
With their lawyer’s minds and information gathered by Samia, Kareem and Fouad had pieced together the drama of the two lovers.
Weeks after Jafer began his work at the firm, Fouad’s family came into the office to sign some papers. Fouad had acquired some rather large business interests abroad, and he put some of those businesses in the names of his children.
Jafer was responsible for the clerical aspects of the documents. When Fouad’s family arrived, they were ushered into Jafer’s office, where the young man was told to obtain the necessary signatures. As our religious customs demand, Samia and her daughter, Fayza, were veiled. Feeling protected in a locked office, in the presence of a trusted employee, both women threw their veils off their faces for the purpose of reading and signing documents.
Now, in the midst of the controversy, Samia had the dimmest recollection that her daughter and Jafer had stared at each other for too long a time. Samia, innocent in her inherent goodness, did not connect her daughter’s nervous behavior and crooked signature with the medley of incredible fancies that were playing upon her child.
At the time, Samia listened without hearing and looked without seeing.
The handsome young man, Jafer, offered them tea, and Samia watched her daughter as she gratefully received his attentions, their hands lightly brushing in the innocent exchange of pens and cups of tea. She told her husband that, at the time, she had thought the touches were accidental.
Kareem reported that Fouad had screamed insults, blaming his wife, telling her that all men are by nature villains, and that she, the mother of an innocent girl, should have been more attuned to Jafer’s evil nature! Fouad had moaned, claiming that Jafer was nothing more than a man with a poem on his lips and a dagger in his pocket!
Samia could recall nothing more, except that her child had seemed flushed and feverish while in the company of Jafer.
Fayza’s personal Filipino maid, Connie, knew many details. She was carefully questioned by Kareem and Fouad. The two men discovered that there was no end to the intrigue of the two lovers, and according to Connie, it was Fouad’s daughter, rather than Jafer, who had pursued the affair.
Connie reported that from that first day, Fayza was stricken by a great love, a weakening love that made the girl forget to eat and sleep. Torn between loyalty to her family and sexual desire for Jafer, Fayza confessed to her maid that love was the victor. She would have this man, Jafer, or no man at all.
Connie said that she had never seen a girl so taken by a man.
Knowing the plans of Fayza’s parents for their lovely daughter, Connie found herself in an unenviable position. She could not report the truth about her young mistress, yet she knew that she should. Connie swore to Fouad she had reminded Fayza that the daughter of a wealthy Saudi family, with close connections to the Al Sa’uds, could not end up with a Palestinian clerk.
Such a situation could only lead to misfortune.
Having a tendency to lapse into criticism of our male-dominated society, I
thought of where the blame might be placed. Thinking of Saudi Arabia’s restrictive social customs, I interrupted Kareem and told him I had come to a conclusion, that Fayza’s overreaction to a charming, handsome man made a mockery of our system. My voice thick with frustration, I declared that if men and women could only meet each other under normal circumstances, these delusions of instant love would be more infrequent.
While I do believe that great attractions lead to genuine love, such as had happened with my sister Sara and her husband, Asad, such a happy outcome is rare. When life is filled with harsh social restrictions, when young men and women rarely have the opportunity to enjoy one another’s company on ordinary social occasions, spontaneous emotions are quick to rise to the surface, often ending in terrible personal tragedies.
With an irritated look on his face, Kareem said he would quit the room if I insisted on burdening the conversation with my well-known theories about the subjugation of females in the Saudi culture!
Abdullah looked at me with longing, his eyes begging me not to make a scene. For the sake of my son, I agreed to be quiet.
Kareem, subtly pleased, continued to describe the drama. Fayza, telling Connie her heart had been a willing recipient of love, knew that Jafer loved her, too, but that he was vulnerable, in his low position, to her elevated status. She feared that he would never take the initiative.
Fayza boldly called Jafer at his office, asking him to meet with her, promising that her family would never know.
Jafer, while acknowledging to Fayza that no woman had ever affected him as she had, refused the tempting offer, asking the girl what benefit could come from such temporary bliss, for when the relationship ended, unbearable mental torture would be the result of his loss.
Fayza gleefully confided to Connie that Jafer was snared, that she was certain she would soon see him, for their telephone conversations had become hot with passion, Jafer warning her that if he ever had her, he would never give her up. His words were delightful to hear!
Fayza persisted. After two weeks of increasingly intimate telephone conversations, which only served to further their desire, Jafer’s resolve weakened. They agreed to meet at the Al Akariya, a large shopping mall in the city of Riyadh.
At last, a veiled Fayza, masquerading as a relative of Jafer’s, walked beside the man she had sought. The two walked from shop to shop, getting to know one another. They aroused little suspicion, for an Arab man with a veiled woman was a common sight in our city.
Their walking relationship was unnatural, but they were too fearful to seat themselves at a restaurant to share a meal, for they knew that restaurants were the principal target of the active and increasingly familiar morals committees, which harass people of every nationality who live in Saudi Arabia.
Such committees are composed of menacing men who unexpectedly surround and enter eating establishments, demanding identification of the restaurant patrons. If proof is not forthcoming that the men and women sharing a table are husband and wife, brother and sister, or father and daughter, these frightened people will be arrested and escorted to a city jail, with punishment freely given. The legal penalties vary according to the nationality of the “criminal.” Muslim offenders can be flogged for their social misconduct, while non-Muslims are jailed or deported.
In the beginning, Jafer and Fayza adjusted their morals to the situation.
Over time, Jafer located an apartment, offered by a sympathetic Lebanese friend, where they could meet in privacy. Since Fayza, as a woman, was not allowed to drive, she was forced to trust a family driver. Knowing that his participation could result in deportation or worse, Fayza lessened his hesitation by offering the man a large sum of money.
Out of this tempting attraction a great love blossomed. The lovers knew that neither one of them could ever love another. Jafer asked Fayza to marry him. Then, just as they were building up their courage to make their love known to their families, a crisis occurred. One of Saudi Arabia’s wealthiest men approached Fouad for the privilege of asking the beautiful Fayza to wed his oldest son. Pressure mounted for Fayza to agree. Fouad declared that the perspective bridegroom was matchless.
“How long I have toiled to build a perfect relationship, which my father would so readily destroy!” Fayza cried out to Connie.
The desperate lovers made their decision to flee the country. Fouad had been tricked, his honor tarnished, and now he would stop at nothing to find his only daughter! Knowing how difficult it was for females in Saudi Arabia to travel freely, I asked, “How did Fayza manage to leave the kingdom alone?”
“She did not,” Kareem replied, “leave alone.”
I was pleased to hear that Fayza did not commit the sin of traveling alone. Saudi women are forbidden by our religion to travel without a male member of the family as escort. This particular restriction is taken directly from the words of the Prophet, who said: “She who believes in Allah and the Last Day (meaning the Day of Judgment) must not travel any distance that is normally covered by one day’s and one night’s traveling unless accompanied by a mahram.”
A woman’s mahram is any relative to whom she cannot be married, such as her father, brother, uncle, nephew, stepfather, father-in-law, or son-in-law. She is allowed to travel with her husband as a matter of course.
I discovered that Fayza had talents in the art of treachery. She told her parents she needed some time away from mounting pressures. She hinted to her mother that a positive response would be forthcoming to the marriage proposal if she could only enjoy a small holiday. She thought she would like to visit her cousin, a girl who married a man from Dubai. Could she be rewarded with a weekend before she pledged herself to marriage?
Samia was bedridden with a sprained back, so Fayza’s younger brother went along as his sister’s required male escort.
Why should anyone be suspicious of Jafer’s taking his annual holiday during this same period? In their wildest imaginations, no one in the family had linked the young man with Fayza.
Once in the safety of Dubai, removed from the dangers of Saudi Arabia, Fayza outmaneuvered her younger brother, slipping her passport from his travel bag while he was in the shower, and making an ordinary pretense of shopping with other females. Her brother volunteered to drive, dropping them at the Al Ghurair Centre on his way to meet a Saudi friend who was staying at the Chicago Beach Hotel, located on one of the most beautiful beaches in the Emirates.
From the Al Ghurair Centre, a popular shopping area, Fayza whispered to her cousin that she had to seek a toilet but would soon return. Her cousin, intent upon selecting perfume, thought little of the deception, promising Fayza that she would wait for her in the shop.
Fayza was not seen again. To her cousin’s horror, she had disappeared.
A frantic search ensued, with Fouad and his wife fearing the worst for their daughter’s safety. Had their child been kidnapped, raped, or murdered? While such crimes were rare in the Emirates, violent acts were occasionally committed.
When Connie learned of her well-loved mistress’s strange disappearance, she collapsed into a weeping fit and confessed her knowledge of Jafer and Fayza’s activities.
A father’s love knows no reason. Not believing that his innocent daughter could be so devious, he cast all blame upon Jafer’s head.
Neither Kareem nor I had ever heard of Fouad’s resorting to abuse or force. He was known to all as a soft-spoken, kindly man. This was not the case during the emotional upheaval he suffered after his daughter’s flight with a man. He fired the unfortunate Connie, putting her on the next flight to Manila. Then, in his wild rage, Fouad burst into Kareem’s offices and physically assaulted Jafer’s uncle. There was a terrible scene, with Fouad threatening the man’s life if Fayza was not returned unharmed, still a marriageable virgin.
The police were summoned by a frightened Indian secretary in a neighboring office.
In Saudi Arabia, liability for public disorder falls upon the foreigner, never upon a Saudi. In this case, Fouad was
questioned by the police and apologies were made for their interference in a private matter. But had Kareem not been higher in rank and influence than Fouad, Jafer’s uncle would have been imprisoned.
Everyone in my family felt saddened by the insoluble problems of human life, and no one knew the appropriate action to take.
Sara and I visited Samia in her home. Muttering that “life without love would be a mistake,” I said everything wrong, causing poor Samia’s ugly face to grow uglier still, while Sara knew how to express intense feeling in her own quiet way.
Bewildered by her child’s rash flight, Samia had difficulty speaking and began to stutter anxious responses to Sara’s kind sympathy.
When we departed Samia’s home, I asked my sister, “How can the outworn traditions of our society be changed, without painful destruction of the older generation’s expectations?”
It is my opinion that marriage brought about by love is most natural and rewarding, while the majority in my land scorn love and look only for respect and companionship after marriage.
How would we Saudi Arabians ever reconcile our differences?
Unable to determine his daughter’s whereabouts without professional assistance, Fouad contacted private investigative agencies in France and America. One week after his child disappeared, Fouad discovered that she was in Nevada, registered in a hotel as Jafer’s wife!
The moment the information came to Fouad, he traveled with his three sons to America, vowing to bring Fayza home. He promised his wife that their daughter would not remain with a Palestinian. Caught up in his tyrannical affection, he said that Fayza’s death would be preferable to the loss of his personal honor.
This bit of news created a furor in our household.
I bit my nails until my fingers bled.
Abdullah fell into a melancholy mood that threatened his health, sensing that nothing would ever be the same again.
Praying for the souls of the lovers, Amani glumly predicted that her prayers would not be answered, that the lovers had foolishly taken their paradise on earth, and that fires of molten metal would welcome them as they exited this earth.