by Jean Sasson
My thoughts returned to Heidi. What future now awaited this lonely child?
From what I had read about Heidi’s Saudi father, I knew that the poor girl would be raised in the strictest of Muslim homes. Within a short time she would be compelled to don the veil, for in my country many Muslim girls are being forced to veil even before they reach puberty. Following her veiling, Heidi would undoubtedly be coerced into an arranged marriage to a man she would not know until the first shocking night in the marriage bed.
I tried to sleep, but my rest was fitful. After I had spent a few hours of tossing and turning in my uncomfortable seat, Sara came to my side to tell me that we were to land shortly. We would be stopping in London for the night before continuing on to Saudi Arabia.
Had I known that during our short time in England we would be humiliated by the enormous press coverage of a Saudi legal case, I would have pleaded with Kareem to cancel our London landing, and instead have our pilots fly the plane on to Paris.
Chapter Eleven
Beheaded
Upon arriving at the airport in London, we were confronted with shocking newspaper headlines: the two most prominent words were “Saudi Arabia” and “beheadings.”
“What is happening?” I asked Kareem. I was becoming alarmed for my family. Kareem spoke in a low voice as he guided us through the airport.
“This is the case of those two British nurses. It seems that they have been found guilty of murder.”
“Oh, yes.” I quickly recalled the incident that had attracted so much attention abroad.
The story had begun about a year before when two British nurses, Deborah Parry and Lucille McLauchlan, had been arrested in Saudi Arabia on the suspicion of the murder of Yvonne Gilford, an Australian nurse. And, now, during the time we had been away in New York City, a Saudi court had found these two women guilty of murder. The British people rejected capital punishment a long time ago, but in Saudi Arabia, convicted murderers are still put to death. We were entering a city that was obviously filled with great agitation at the idea of two British citizens losing their heads to the sword of a Saudi Arabian executioner!
I shuddered. Although it is my belief that the crime of murder demands uncompromising punishment, I have always found the idea of beheadings utterly horrifying! Actually, many people find our entire Muslim system of justice primitive and shocking. Islamic law, or Sharia, is the basis for civil and criminal law in Saudi Arabia. The Koran, Islam’s holy book, and the sunnah, examples of Prophet Mohammed’s deeds and commands, is the basis for Sharia. And, unlike laws in many Western countries, Sharia stresses the rights of the society over the rights of the individual.
The punishments laid down for breaking Islamic laws are swift and severe. Convicted murderers and rapists are beheaded, adulterers are stoned to death, and thieves suffer amputation of their right hand. Other penalties include public lashings, as well as the more universally acceptable jail terms, and fines. These severe punishments may look brutal, but most Muslim nations enjoy a lower crime rate than do many other countries.
Knowing that our entire system of justice was under public British media scrutiny caused our party to become unusually subdued as our drivers transported us into greater London.
After we arrived at our apartment in Knightsbridge, Kareem and Asad left for the Saudi Arabian Embassy to find out what was going on. As we settled into our apartment, we women turned our attention to the newspapers Kareem had purchased at the airport.
I winced as I read, for the accounts of the ordeal these two British nurses were undergoing filled the front pages. Every aspect of the Saudi judicial system was explored and condemned. These newspapers seemed to be outraged above all by the idea that our “primitive” society allows families of murder victims to have a say in the punishment of those condemned.
In Saudi Arabia, if a murder has been committed, the family of the victim has the right to demand that the murderer is killed in the same manner, or in any other way they choose. There have been indeed cases of families in Saudi Arabia choosing to inflict the same punishment on the murderer as their loved one had endured, for example, stabbing the condemned to death, or even running them over with an automobile. However, most Saudis accept the standard sentence of death by beheading.
Families of the victim also have a second option, that of collecting blood money in exchange for sparing the convicted murderer’s life. While camels were once used to pay blood money, today the payment is in riyals or dollars. There are set damages according to the circumstances on a scale from SR 120,000 to SR 300,000 ($45,000 to $80,000). Of course, if the victim is a woman, the blood money is half that for a man.
In this case, the two nurses had been found guilty of murdering a third woman. And, it was now being reported in British newspapers that the victim’s family had been approached about the possibility of accepting blood money for their loved one as provided for under Saudi law, even though the victim’s family lived in Australia. The dead woman’s brother, Frank Gilford, had reportedly become outraged at the idea that his sister’s life could be bought and paid for, and had angrily refused the offer of blood money.
I agreed with Frank Gilford. I, too, would reject the offer of blood money. How can anyone place a monetary value on a life? If only Saudi Arabian men had the same degree of love and esteem for their women as Western men, I mused, as I compared Frank Gilford’s reaction to a true story that recently occurred in Saudi Arabia.
This story I was reminded of unfolded when an inebriated foreigner crashed his automobile into a car carrying female passengers, and killed two Saudi women. Two serious crimes had been committed: the crime of drinking alcohol, and the crime of murder; therefore, the foreigner was immediately thrown into jail. He was certain to be condemned to death under Saudi Arabia’s strict laws. His only hope was to convince the husband of the dead women to accept blood money. Otherwise, he would be beheaded.
Although other similar cases in Saudi Arabia had shown that most Saudis prefer an “eye for an eye,” the accused’s lawyer prepared a plea offering blood money.
When the case was called before the Saudi judge, no one was more shocked at the reaction of the surviving husband than the guilty foreigner and his lawyer. The husband of the two dead women stood before the judge and said, “Your honor, I request that the prisoner be released. I do not call for his death, nor do I want his money. The two women killed were wives that I had taken in my youth, and had grown too old to be of service to me.” This man had looked at the defendant, and actually smiled. “I am glad to be rid of them, for I can now replace them with two young wives.”
Under the law, the Saudi judge had no option but to release the lucky foreigner. It was further reported that the husband actually thanked the foreigner, saying that he had wanted to divorce his wives for a long time, but had not wanted to make a financial settlement!
Once again, I considered the good fortune of women of other countries. To be valued and esteemed is beyond the expectations of many Saudi Arabian women.
My attention returned to the fate of the British nurses. Now that they had been convicted, and with execution looming, public interest was at its peak. Although a number of Muslim women have been beheaded in Saudi Arabia, never has a woman from a Western country suffered this cruel fate.
Tension was mounting between the governments of Saudi Arabia and Great Britain. The British were appalled at the possibility that two of their own might lose their heads at the hands of a Saudi swordsman, while the Saudis were angered by British criticism of their judicial system.
Huda interrupted my thoughts when she looked up from the newspaper she was reading. “These English should not complain about our Saudi method of capital punishment. Saeed Al Sayaf, the official executioner, is a skilled swordsman. My husband once witnessed a beheading and spoke of Saeed’s work with the highest praise. These British women will be fortunate to have such a practiced executioner.” Huda made a clicking sound with her tongue. “One minute t
hese women will have their heads, and the next minute they will not. They will not suffer one moment of pain.”
Sara looked at Huda in horror.
With my hand at my throat, I sat paralyzed. I, too, knew something about the swordsman Saeed Al Sayaf, as I had seen him years before being interviewed on Saudi television. I had never forgotten him.
Saeed’s jovial manner belied his gruesome job, and never would I forget his terrifying words. Saeed Al Sayaf is an employee of the Ministry of Interior. An executioner since he was a young man, he has wielded his sword many times, and he is now training one of his sons to take his place! For beheadings, Saeed claimed to use a special sword presented to him by Prince Ahmad bin Abdul Aziz Al Sa’ud.
Saeed also carries out punishments for lesser crimes, such as theft. I recalled Saeed explaining that he used sharp knives to cut the wrists of thieves, since it would be difficult to hit the exact spot on a small target such a wrist with a weapon as large as a sword!
During the interview, Saeed had laughingly claimed that he preferred chopping off heads to cutting off wrists. He also expressed his keen disappointment that the booming economy of Saudi Arabia had lowered the crime rate. There were too few criminals to keep him busy! He had then discussed some of his more memorable beheadings. And, after chopping off more than six hundred heads, as well as sixty hands, he had many stories to tell.
The most horrifying story I had never forgotten involved two condemned men, partners in crime, who were to be executed together. This was before our current procedure of covering the eyes of the condemned. As a result, the second man watched as Saeed’s sword sliced through the neck of his comrade; the severed head fell at his feet. The terrified man looked up and saw that Saeed was preparing his sword to strike him. He fell to the ground in a faint. He was examined by the attending doctor who declared that the man’s heart had stopped. As the body of his friend was carried away for burial, the fallen man revived. The swordsman was called back, and the man pleaded to be spared.
I will never forget the wicked smile on the executioner’s face as he chuckled at the memory of what must have been one of his better days. Of course, Saeed could not agree to any such thing, and the man was immediately beheaded.
Huda spoke once again. “These British women are obviously guilty of murder. They should pay for their crime against Allah.”
Sara, with her soft heart, looked at our cousin in disbelief. “Oh, Huda! Surely, you do not mean that.”
“And why not? If a Saudi citizen commits a crime in England, or in America, are they not forced to answer for their crimes?” Huda flicked her fingers in dismissal, “Do our Muslim laws mean nothing?”
Maysa spoke up as she waved a newspaper in her hand. “Did you not read this report, Huda? Perhaps these women are innocent. They say here that they were tortured by Saudi policemen. Such things do happen, you know.”
Huda flashed her an ugly look. “Maysa, do not be so naïve. Of course the women did it! They were found guilty in a Saudi court! And what else would a foreign criminal claim, if not police brutality? It is a typical Western trick to escape punishment!”
Huda then rose from her seat and straightened her dress. “All this talk makes me hungry. I believe I will have Sultana’s cook prepare me this new recipe I found in New York.”
My heretofore hidden distaste for Huda was about to surface. I spoke loudly enough for Huda to hear: “It appears that the glutton has an insatiable appetite for blood, as well as for food.”
Huda slumped against the wall as if she was stricken with severe chest pains, but we could see she was pretending. Nevertheless, Sara and Maysa ran to her side. As she was being led away, Huda shouted that she was having a heart attack, and that someone should call her husband to tell him to arrange her funeral!
Our maids were alarmed, but I reassured them. “Do not worry. Although Huda is destined to collapse of a heart attack, her destiny has no connection with my words. Huda’s final fate is directly linked to the thick layers of fat that have gathered around her heart.”
The maids began to laugh. Although overweight, Huda was the most robust woman in our extended Al Sa’ud family, and well known for her dramatics. Since she was a young girl, Huda had routinely feigned heart attacks. Most likely, I assured everyone, Huda would enjoy many delicious dishes before she heard God’s final summons.
Still smiling, I went into the kitchen to instruct Jada, our London cook and housekeeper, to prepare our dinner.
To my surprise, I found that Jada had already cooked a small feast for us: eggplant salad, lentil soup, pilaw, kufta, and shish kabob. I saw that this dear girl had even baked Arab bread to please us. “I’m so happy you are here, Ma’am,” she said as she began to load the food onto trays. “I get lonely, sometimes,” she admitted softly.
I found myself wondering about Jada’s life. I had to admit that I knew very little about the girl. While traveling alone to England the year before, Kareem had discovered that our housemaid and one of our drivers were involved in an illicit affair. Since both were wed to others, Kareem terminated their employment and sent them back to their spouses. It was then that he had hired Jada.
I now recalled Kareem telling me that Jada had wept copious tears when pleading for this position, as both maid and cook. She had told him that she came from a poor Egyptian family and must work to help finance an older brother’s college education. Although she had arrived with no references, Kareem had sensed a goodness in the girl and had hired her immediately.
I recalled hearing that her parents had emigrated from Egypt years before. After the father was unable to find suitable employment in London, the possibility of a manufacturing job had taken the family to the city of Manchester. Now that she lived in London, Jada, who was unmarried, rarely saw her family. Since Kareem and I stay at our home in London no more than once or twice a year, I knew that Jada must spend many long, boring months with few distractions to fill her days.
Looking into Jada’s youthful face, I guessed that she was not much older than my youngest daughter, Amani. Yet, Jada conducted herself as a mature woman while Amani often displayed childlike conduct. Wealth and privilege too often bring out unattractive attributes, I thought to myself. And, I must admit, that included me as well.
Through gentle questioning, I learned that Jada had been an excellent student at school, and had always longed to become a medical doctor. Her greatest ambition was to return to Egypt and care for pregnant women in the small villages in an effort to lower the high infant mortality of that country, and to combat the practice of female circumcision.
Recently, there had been a great deal of international public outrage concerning the custom of female circumcision in Egypt, and Jada was earnest in her desire to help educate women in her land so that they would turn away from that barbaric custom.
“That is an admirable cause,” I told her, as my thoughts went back in time. “The granddaughter of Fatma, our housekeeper in Egypt, was forced to undergo that brutal practice. Unbelievably, it was the child’s own mother, Elham, who had insisted upon the inhumane ritual!
“I went with Fatma to try to convince Elham not to subject her daughter to such a dangerous mutilation. But Elham truly believed that our religion demands women to be circumcised, and that her daughter could not defy the laws of her religion.” I sighed heavily, still depressed when I thought of it. “I agree that educating women is the only solution to end this frightful custom.”
“Women must learn to question authority,” Jada said. “Otherwise, they will continue to believe everything their fathers and husbands tell them.”
“That is so true,” I agreed.
In view of her own aspirations, I was surprised to learn that Jada felt no animosity about the fact that the whole of her salary was going towards educating her brother. Jada kept only a few pounds a month for herself.
“Once my brother has graduated,” Jada said with a smile, “then I will ask him to pay for my education.” The dear g
irl was quietly self-assured that her dreams would come true, and that her brother would honor her wishes as she had so unselfishly honored his.
I gazed at Jada in fascination. I well knew that had I faced the same situation with my brother Ali that I would have made a bonfire with my salary before I would have given it to him. Sadly, I suspected that Jada’s dreams might never be fulfilled, for once educated, her brother would most likely wed. Then, the needs of his wife and children would surely take precedence over his sister.
As I walked away, thoughts of Afaaf and Hussah came to my mind. I was struck once more by how the wishes and needs of Arab women are always placed behind the desires of Arab men. There is a terrible truth that permeates Muslim cultures—a truth that few Muslims will ever admit. In every Arab or Muslim society, women’s lives are like soft wax, which men are allowed to twist and stretch according to their individual beliefs and desires.
Since Kareem and Asad did not return from the Saudi Embassy until late in the evening, we women alone enjoyed the feast prepared by Jada. Huda, still angry at my earlier remarks, ate in isolation in her room. Since everyone was weary from the rigors of our trip, we retired as soon as we had finished our evening meal.
The following morning, we returned to the airport to continue our journey to Saudi Arabia. We had been out of the Kingdom for only eight days, but for some reason, the time away seemed endless to me.
Our airplane landed in Jeddah, since Maysa and Huda both lived in that city. The rest of us planned to travel on to Riyadh within the next few days. After hearing the tragic story of Heidi, I was anxious to gather Maha and Amani in my arms.
Before retiring that evening in our Jeddah palace, Kareem and I relaxed with a few cocktails. The topic of our conversation staged on the current crisis between Saudi Arabia and England. Although I attempted to change the subject more than once, Kareem was infused with anger that our country was being criticized for upholding our laws—laws that kept our crime rate substantially lower than most other countries in the world.