Princess Sultana's Circle

by Jean Sasson

  Faddel had the effrontery to try to justify his evil deeds. “Although it is no business of yours, Sultana, every woman here was sold by her parents. They received what they were after, as did I. These transactions were legitimate. I have done nothing wrong.”

  “Legally, perhaps not, Faddel. Morally, most certainly.”

  Faddel shrugged.

  Stung by the knowledge I was not going to succeed in freeing these young women, I intentionally insulted my cousin. “Faddel, is it so terribly difficult for you to find sexual companions who don’t have to be chained, first?”

  Maha turned to him in scorn, “You are a wicked beast! You are!”

  Faddel chuckled when he retorted, “Sultana, I believe that you and your daughters are conspiring to blacken my reputation.”

  Maha grabbed me by the waist. “Mother! Surely we cannot leave them here!”

  My heart sank as I looked into Maha’s face. “Yes, Daughter, we must. There is nothing more that we can do here.” I pulled her along, “Come.”

  Khalidah turned her back and left the room.

  Faddel’s deceptively soft voice spoke menacing words as he guided Maha and me out of that place. “You know, Sultana, if you were anyone else, I would have you killed.”

  Walking beside that depraved man, I felt greater hatred than I had ever felt for any person, even my brother Ali. How I longed to threaten Faddel with a million curses. But I knew that the law of Saudi Arabia had no provisions to help those girls. There was nothing that I could do, and I knew it. Most hurtful of all, Faddel knew it, too.

  As we walked away, I heard the heartbroken cries of the young girls, calling out from behind locked doors. It was more than I could bear! I could not imagine how this was affecting Maha.

  Dismal thoughts flooded my thinking. Oh, Allah! What a land! What a people! We are so wealthy that we give no thought to exchanging expensive real estate for a nest of motley birds that will satisfy the crazy whims of our children. Yet, we are so morally corrupt that young women are routinely held captive as sex slaves, and incredibly, there are no legal means available for decent people to free these women. I felt hot with shame for my country and my countrymen.

  Faddel summoned our driver. He was careful to wait by our side until he saw us off. When our automobile appeared, Faddel opened the door, returned my cellular telephone, and bade us an ironic farewell. “You must come again, Sultana.” He chuckled, “But, please, come to the main house instead.”

  Sometimes the defeats in life seem beyond human endurance. I could not speak, and I could not think until I was free of Faddel’s loathsome presence.

  Maha began to weep. I was too heartsick to offer comforting words, and just gently stroked her shoulder.

  As we reached the first turn in the driveway, the eunuch Omar stepped in front of our automobile. Our driver slammed on the brakes. Flashing his toothless smile, Omar tapped on the window.

  “Open the window!” I ordered.

  “Mistress, might I come with you?” Omar asked in his high feminine voice.

  “With me? I thought you were a part of Faddel’s family,”

  “I said I was allowed to live here, Madam; I did not say I was welcomed.” He added, “I have not been truly welcome since Faddel’s father died, over fifteen years ago.”

  “Well…” I glanced in the front mirror and saw that the driver was looking at me in alarm. I turned back to Omar. “Were you bought as a slave by Faddel’s family?”

  “Slaves were freed many years ago.”

  That was true. In 1962 the American President, John F. Kennedy personally appealed to Faisal, who was then Prime Minister, to abolish slavery in Saudi Arabia. Our government honored President Kennedy’s request and purchased freedom for every slave in the country for a price of nearly 5,000 Saudi Riyals ($1,500) per head. Many of these freed slaves had remained in their ex-owners’ households. Even though Omar had chosen to remain with the family who once owned him, he was his own master.

  “Please, Mistress.”

  I quickly considered this unusual request. Perhaps Faddel would punish Omar for failing to report my arrival at his harem. I now knew him to be perfectly capable of any heinous act.

  Reluctantly, I said, “Well, get in. Come with us.”

  Once the little man was settled, I asked, “What makes you want to live with my family?”

  Omar studied me carefully for a moment before answering, “Well,” he finally said, “I have lived for many years in this land. When I was eight years old, I was stolen from my family in Sudan and sold to a wealthy Turk. That same year, my owner traveled to Makkah for the Haj.” Omar chuckled, “He was a fat fool who ate too much grease and sugar, and he dropped dead while circling that black rock at the big mosque. I was taken away by the authorities before being presented as a gift to Faddel’s grandfather, who was owed some favor or another by the authorities.

  “I am now eighty-eight years old. So for eighty years, I have lived among your people.” He sat silent for a long moment before saying, “It used to be that Arabs from this country had a little humanity in their hearts. But I have not personally witnessed a single act of kindness in more years than I can remember.” He took a deep breath, “I promised myself some years ago that the next kind person I met, I would serve.” Omar looked at me and smiled gaily.

  The reality of what I had done then came to me. My husband was an indulgent man, but what he was going to say when he saw this fantastically dressed eunuch was something I could not imagine.

  When we arrived at our palace, Maha ran weeping to her room.

  I told Omar to wait for me in the main living room. He happily complied.

  I searched for Amani, and as I knew I would, I found her in the garden with her birds. I stood and watched my daughter as she indulged her birds with special seeds and treats. Well, at least these particular birds would suffer no more. The garden was filled with their joyous singing.

  I drew a sharp breath as I considered my victories and my defeats. The songbirds were free, while the young girls were still captive!

  When Kareem arrived home and found me sitting in the living room chatting with the tiny black eunuch, Omar, he stared and threw me a look of total incredulity. Poor man! He had no idea of what had transpired that day during his absence. Nor did he know that he now had a eunuch as a part of his household.

  Chapter Eight

  The Story of a Eunuch

  Many times I have heard Kareem declare that God moves in mysterious ways. Now seeing him reel toward me in a shocked stupor, I hoped to soften what I knew would be my husband’s incensed reaction by reminding him of his past assertion. “Kareem, I now know the true meaning of your wise words. God does move in mysterious ways.” I turned from him and smiled at the eunuch. “God, Himself, has brought Omar of Sudan to live in our home.”

  Kareem’s automatic Arab hospitality momentarily restrained the anger directed toward me. He looked at the strange little man sitting at my side and greeted him courteously. “You are most welcome in our home, Omar.”

  I tried to bewitch Kareem with my enthusiasm. “Darling! Omar’s story is a legend from our past!”

  Kareem showed his skepticism as he inspected Omar’s colorful ensemble. “Oh?”

  I did not want Kareem to judge Omar harshly, for I understood that this small man had not chosen the role in life he had been forced to play.

  “Yes! Omar’s lifelong mission has been that of a protector. A protector of women!”

  Just then Amani walked into the palace with a row of her new pet birds balanced on her arm. Miraculously, our daughter had already trained some of the birds she had saved from Faddel’s garden paradise.

  With a broad smile on his face, Omar jumped to his feet. “Young Mistress, I watched from the bushes as you carried these poor birds from Master Faddel’s palace to freedom! For sure, you will be favored by Allah for your goodness!”

  Amani had never been praised for protecting animals before. Disarmed, she smile
d and looked warmly at Omar.

  Kareem’s earlier reluctant tolerance was beginning to turn into alarm. “Great God, Sultana! What is this? Have you taken Faddel’s dwarf, too?”

  “Omar is not a dwarf!” I protested, “Omar is a eunuch!”

  Kareem threw his arms into the air. “Sultana!” His loud voice and gesticulating arm movements caused Amani’s birds to flutter around the room in panic.

  Amani screamed, “Father!”

  Omar rushed to help Amani gather the birds and return them to the garden. As soon as the door closed behind them, I attempted to soothe Kareem by explaining the morning’s events, and how it came about that an aged and wildly dressed eunuch was now living in our home.

  When Kareem began to comprehend that, not only had I disobeyed his earlier instructions by returning to Faddel’s palace, but had created yet another upheaval at that palace while on a second mission of mercy, his tolerance for my behavior vanished.

  Kareem shouted, “Save me Allah, from lying lips and deceiving tongues!” The raised veins on his face and neck were alarming.

  I tried to tell Kareem about the plight of the poor women being held against their will, but Kareem’s loud cries overwhelmed my words. We quickly became involved in a senseless shouting match. Our argument ceased only when our voices grew hoarse.

  When he fell silent, I tried to tell Kareem the tragic story of the young women held in sexual bondage by Faddel, but even the grim reality of innocent girls imprisoned in a harem made no impact on his anger.

  I added meekly, “I know that I should have first confided in you, Husband. But, you already were so burdened with Amani and those birds, that I hesitated.” I leaned close and placed my hand on Kareem’s leg. “Had I not gone with Maha, and made an effort to free those young women, she would never have forgiven me.”

  Kareem shook his head angrily, “What good did you do, Sultana? The women still belong to Faddel. Nothing can change that fact! You well know that no one in this country will take up the cause of women in such a situation!” He gestured toward the spot where Omar sat previously. “So, what did you accomplish? The addition of an ancient eunuch to a household that has no need for one!”

  Kareem and I were startled to hear Omar clear his throat behind us. From the heaviness now reflected on his sagging face, it was clear that he had overheard Kareem’s callous remarks.

  “I will leave your home at once, Master.” Omar stuttered in a high, meek tone of voice. “You are right. A eunuch is a pointless creature. At least these days.”

  Omar’s eyes were glistening, and I feared that the poor man was going to fall to his knees and burst into tears.

  The sad demeanor of this little man softened Kareem’s heart, stripping him of his anger. There are times that Kareem can be a sensitive man, and this was one of those times. “I am sorry for my careless words, Omar. No man is pointless in the eyes of Allah. And, if Faddel does not protest your absence, you are most welcome to live with us.”

  Omar’s countenance brightened immediately. “Oh, Master, my presence will not be missed in that place! I once left to travel with a visitor from Taif and was away for four months. Upon my return, it was clear that my absence had passed unnoticed by Master Faddel and his wife.”

  Omar went on ruefully, “I was told by other servants that Faddel and Khalidah expressed the hope that I had crept into the bushes and died. Those two even begrudged me what little food my small body requires!” He stroked the fabric of his brocade drawers. “Master Faddel refused funds for me to purchase more appropriate garments. That is why I wear such ancient attire from the days of my past, Master.”

  Kareem smiled kindly. “Here you are welcome to all the food you can eat, Omar. And, I will tell Mohammed to assist you with new clothing. If you are to live with us, then you will dress appropriately.”

  Omar looked at me with bright shining eyes before turning back to Kareem. “Master, God has answered my prayers! I knew that a good woman such as your wife would be paired with a kindly man!”

  I glanced at Kareem, thinking that he might join in Omar’s praise, but he did not. Instead, he patted Omar on the back. “Friend, one thing only, do not refer to me as ‘Master.’ No man is the master of another. Please call me Prince Kareem.”

  Omar nodded. “It is a long habit that will be hard to break, but I shall try, Prince Kareem.”

  With a smile on his face, Kareem then leaned back in the sofa and called out for the servants to bring us tea.

  I was astonished to see that my husband’s tremendous wrath had been so quickly appeased by this little man! As I thought back, I remembered how Omar had comforted me only a few hours before, and I realized that this eunuch possessed an enormously calming influence. I looked at Omar with a new thought in mind. Would this little man prove to be an unexpected gift to my overwrought, highly emotional family?

  Kareem looked at Omar with kindness. “Omar, tell us something of your past. I was certain that the last eunuch in Saudi Arabia had died some years ago.”

  Omar became animated. “It would be my great pleasure to tell you anything you ask,” he said with great excitement.

  I smiled. I had already noticed that Omar loved to tell stories at the slightest provocation.

  With a genial ease of manners, Omar then pulled himself upright, and carefully arranging his full-cut drawers, sat cross-legged on the sofa. When he lifted his head to look at Kareem, his eyes took on a faraway look as he began to relate details of the life he had lived.

  “I remember little of bilad as-Sudan, known as the ‘land of the black peoples,’ but I do know that my family’s tribe, the Humr, were nomadic cattlemen. We followed the rains and the tall grasses.

  “Those were dangerous days. Many African Chiefs worked closely with Muslim slave traders, capturing and selling their own people. Every Humr mother was burdened with the worry that her children would be stolen from her. Even now, I remember the soft brown eyes of my mother as she looked at me, and her stern warning that I was not to stray far from members of the tribe.” Omar’s sad eyes mirrored his own pain, “I was young and foolish, and failed to obey my mother. It was the aim of every young Humr male to be praised as a hunter. Small boys were always gathering stones to toss at birds or small animals. I was no different, and one day while gathering smooth stones, I foolishly wandered some distance from the tribe. Just as I was about to toss a stone at a bustard, I was suddenly grabbed from behind and taken away from that place. I never saw my mother again.”

  Even after all these years, Omar brushed away tears at the thought of his mother. “But, that was a long, long time ago.”

  Stillness hung in the air. I felt unbelievably sad for the young boy that had been taken from his mother, and for the man who had no chance to experience the life he had been born to live.

  Omar began to talk in a low voice, not looking at Kareem or me. “I was not alone in my misery. Many men, women, and children had been taken from their villages or tribes. We were tied together and led across the land toward the Red Sea. We spent many days and nights traveling. When we finally arrived at the Red Sea, an Egyptian Christian met with our leader. There was low talk concerning the young male captives. Panic ran down the line of captured slaves when the man was overheard saying that a certain number of the youngest boys were to be relieved of their three precious gifts. Unsure of what these precious gifts were, I did not protest too loudly when I was pulled from the line and taken a short distance away from the other captured slaves.”

  Plainly uncomfortable, Kareem interrupted Omar. “One moment, Omar.” He turned to me, “Sultana, please go to the kitchen and ask the cook to prepare some refreshments.”

  I knew Kareem’s intention. He did not want me in the room when Omar detailed the graphic tale of his castration. In our conservative Saudi society, my presence would be improper. This, even though Omar was not really considered a man. Poor Omar lived a sad and uncertain fate. He was neither man nor woman, although his status was sligh
tly lower than a man’s, but higher than a woman’s.

  I did not object to Kareem’s suggestion, although I had already braced myself to hear the lurid details of Omar’s castration. I knew that once we were alone, Kareem would willingly tell me everything. But I was too impatient to wait. I decided to listen to the rest of Omar’s story from the other side of the door.

  “Yes, of course,” I replied, standing up and leaving the room. I hurried to the kitchen and requested the cook to prepare a selection of refreshments consisting of cheeses, fruits, and choice sweets.

  Once I left the kitchen, I stepped quietly and stopped behind the door leading into the sitting room.

  Omar was still speaking, and I soon realized that I had not missed the main part of his story. “…man was well-prepared for his duty. His razor was sharp, and without knowing what was about to happen, I was suddenly relieved of my three manly items.”

  Kareem gasped loudly, “Surely, Allah’s word was mocked by those men and their cruel actions!”

  “Allah was nowhere to be found on that day,” Omar said wistfully, “although His name was invoked more than once by every boy subjected to this cruel treatment.”

  I heard Kareem take a deep breath.

  Omar remembered every detail of his ordeal. “A tube was inserted into the opening that was left in the place of my penis so that the hole would not close. I was bleeding badly, but the bleeding stopped when that man’s assistant poured boiling oil on my wounds.” Omar chuckled. “He presented me with my genitals in a jar, even as I lay writhing in pain! I kept that jar and its contents for many years, until fifteen years ago it was stolen by a cruel prankster.”

  “It is a wonder that you did not perish in the midst of all this cruelty,” Kareem managed to say.

  “I survived, as you see. A total of ten boys were castrated that day. One died immediately. The rest of us were buried up to our necks in the sand.” He chuckled humorlessly once more. “Who knows what cruel fool decided that hot sand was a remedy for survival? So, for three days and nights we were given no water or food. At the end, only three of the nine were still among the living.”