“This sleeping girl is truly you and not your friend as it seemed to you in the dream,” he told her. “I advise you, my daughter, before all else to strengthen your faith, in which is protection against every scourge and salvation from every evil. The blanket itself is the security and stability you had in your first marriage and appear to have lost. Seeing your hair as well as your head uncovered is a clear indication of your husband not returning to you. And that is better for you, because the gray hair tells us that he was an immoral person and a traitor who betrayed you. As for your beard, this gives you the good news that your son will be a man of weight and position, with God’s leave, among his family and people. Not waking up in time for prayer means that there is a difficulty in the matter for which you sought guidance. I advise you not to accept this man who has come forth to ask for your hand. Good is in what God chooses and God is the most knowledgeable.”
Gamrah began to tremble when she heard the sheikh’s interpretation of her dream. Her whole body shook and she hurried to inform her mother, who told her brother, who made a scene and threatened them all. But Um Mohammed, with her long experience in such matters, just absorbed his anger until the whole thing was over and everyone had finally averted their eyes from this engagement whose conclusion, and consummation, God had not written and decreed.
34.
To: [email protected]
From: “seerehwenfadha7et”
Date: October 1, 2004
Subject: Mourning
The series of enticing offers continue, as do all sorts of propositions, and I cannot distinguish the sincere from the scam. One Saudi producer sent me a proposal to transform my e-mails into a Ramadan TV series of thirty episodes! Why not? If we were already talking about publishing it as a novel, why not film it for TV? I concur with our own Abdullah Al-Ghadhami,* that the literature of the written word is bourgeois while the image is democratic. I prefer the series to the novel, because I want the stories of my friends to reach everyone. This would certainly be a beginning.
But here the crucial question intrudes. Who will agree to act in my series? Must we rely on actresses from the neighboring Gulf states and lose the grand and refined Saudi accent of give and take that underlies the plot? Or will we disguise Saudi boys to take on the roles of young women,** and thereby lose the audience?
The home of Sadeem’s senior uncle on her father’s side filled with mourners. Sadeem’s father, the much-respected Abdulmuhsin Al-Horaimli, had passed away in his midtown office following a sudden heart attack that did not allow him much time to linger on death’s door.
In the most out-of-the-way corner of the reception room sat Sadeem. Gamrah and Lamees were on either side of her, trying to comfort her even though their tears were flowing more abundantly than hers. How would Sadeem live now, already without a mother and suddenly without a father to watch over her? How would she sleep at night when there was no one with her in the big house? How would she manage living under the care of her uncles, who without a doubt would force her to move into one of their households? These were questions they couldn’t answer, even though, at this awful time, they could not help but ask them. Her mother had died before Sadeem could even know her, while her father had died when she was most in need of him. Verily, we are God’s, and to God all must return, and to that there can be no resistance.
Um Nuwayyir stood beside the wives of Sadeem’s paternal uncles and her maternal aunt, Badriyyah, to receive all the women who came to mourn. Frequently her eyes sought out Sadeem, wanting to see how she was bearing up under a trial that was enough to tear a person’s heart in two.
Sorrowfully, Sadeem examined the women crowding the room. No signs of true sadness showed on any of their faces. Some had come made-up and dressed to the hilt. Some shamelessly lost themselves in meaningless chitchat. She could hear suppressed laughs coming from various parts of the room. Were these the people who had come to keep her company in her awful loss? Was she sitting there to receive the condolences of people who in fact had no sympathy for her at all, while others who felt her grief could not get close enough to embrace her?
Sadeem fled from this room where no one felt the pain squeezing her heart. The only person who understood her was her Firas. No one really perceived how strong her relationship with her father had been except Firas. He alone would be capable of lightening this awful load; he was all that was left to her after her father’s departure. How much she needed him!
His text messages on her cell phone didn’t stop. He tried regularly to make her feel his presence at her side and to remind her that he shared her grief and sense of loss. Her father was his father, and she was his soul, and he would not abandon her, no matter what.
In the late hours of the night, on the phone, Firas grasped hold of a book of prayers and began reciting to Sadeem, asking her to say Amen after him:
“God, may Abdulmuhsin Al-Horaimli be in your care…”
Firas recited the prayer for the dead in a hoarse voice, his heart breaking at the sobs of his Sadeem. But he did not despair of trying to save his beloved from her bereavement. He went on trying to console her with paternal tenderness and utter self-denial, as though he were exclusively there for her, a servant to her every need. Not for a moment did she sense his distance or any inability to truly embrace her.
Firas remained on call for his little Sadeem until she could swallow the first big bite of grief. After that he continued his support, helping her until she could stand on her own and get through the days of her suffering.
35.
To: [email protected]
From: “seerehwenfadha7et”
Date: October 8, 2004
Subject: The Aquarius
After my previous e-mail, let me take you away from your grief by invoking a blessing on you this week, on the occasion of the approach of the first day of Ramadan. God has given this blessed month to us yet again, to us and to all Muslims, as He has given us His aid that we may fast the daylight hours all through it and uphold it.
I ask your forgiveness in advance for not sending messages over the course of the coming month. I promise you that I will continue to follow the stories of my friends after the month of virtue comes to a close. I confess in advance that I will miss you. After Ramadan, I will return bearing truly weighty letters, by God’s leave. Wait for me.
After finishing their fourth year at the university, Lamees and Tamadur decided to make the most of the summer break by training at one of the hospitals in Jeddah. Like all students attached to the hospital, female and male, they were not permitted to interact with the patients before they were licensed doctors. Their duties were limited to observing the resident physicians and consultants when they examined the sick and performed operations.
At the hospital with the twins were two male trainees from the College of Medicine and a few students, men and women, who were training in the hospital’s dental unit.
At first, Tamadur felt downright mortified that she and her sister were the only young women among the medical students. She was so uncomfortable with this that in the mornings she made a point of getting to the hospital late, and later in the day she left before the shift officially ended. Lamees was exactly the opposite: precise in her appointments and eager that she should miss nothing in this new adventure.
The doctors and administrative personnel at the hospital were gracious and friendly with the two of them. But Tamadur felt too shy to sit with her two male colleagues in the single small room assigned to the students for relaxation. She kept her distance from them and even found it hard to get along with the female seniors. Lamees was just the opposite. She was bold and adjusted quickly. She angered her sister by making it obvious how quickly she was falling into a pleasant rhythm with everyone who worked in the hospital.
After about a week of summer training, Tamadur stopped going to the hospital. One of the male students also pulled out in order to travel abroad for the last couple of weeks before sc
hool resumed. Lamees was the only female medical student left, next to the only male medical student, Nizar. Lamees was immediately conscious of how much she preferred being with one male student instead of two. Before, whenever she had approached the pair of them, she felt she was intruding. But now Nizar was just as alone as she was. Neither of them had any other companion to while away the empty time between patient rounds and operations.
This unplanned proximity allowed Lamees some glimpses into Nizar’s genteel personality. The way he behaved toward her was different from Ahmed or any other of her male friends on the Internet. He acted with a spontaneity that charmed her, even though she initially misunderstood his intentions. The day after his classmate left, for example, he invited her to have lunch with him in the hospital cafeteria. Lamees turned him down, saying that she was in the middle of reading a medical text and would wait a little while before eating. What he did was go to the buffet and return with two plates, one for him and the other for her! He handed hers over very politely, reminding her that the operation the two of them were to observe was going to begin in only an hour. Then he picked up the tray with his plate on it and went to a vacant patient’s room to eat.
Lamees didn’t need very long to get used to Nizar’s impulsive ways and appreciate his well-mannered personality. Their conversations began to go beyond the confines of medicine and various treatments and the latest drugs and surgical techniques. They told each other their dreams and what they imagined life would be like after graduating. Eventually, they talked about their personal lives and families, how many brothers and sisters each had, their daily aggravations and other little tidbits that showed that the ice between them was now completely broken.
At a table in the cafeteria, Lamees pretended to be a seer to guess what astrological sign Nizar had been born under. He threw himself into the game.
“So you are definitely either a Sagittarius or an Aquarius. I expect it is Aquarius…no, no, Sagittarius! No, wait, Aquarius! Yes, definitely Aquarius. Has to be.”
“Okay, so tell me, what is there about my personality that would make me Aquarius and what would make me Sagittarius?” And then, rather slyly, “So that I know which one to choose.”
“No, no, it’s not going to happen. Just tell me, tell me the truth, which sign are you?”
“Guess!”
“I told you already. Sagittarius or Aquarius. You don’t give the impression of being a Virgo—men who are Virgo are really heavy going and hopelessly romantic. They make your blood pressure go up. You don’t look like like a Taurus, either.”
“How sweet of you, madame!”
“Maybe an Aries? Yes! You could be an Aries!”
“Aha? Keep going. What else could I be? There isn’t a single sign you haven’t mentioned. And the whole time, you’re acting as though you know about sign-reading, but you’re just faking it!”
“Okay, I’ve got it now, this is really it. You’re either Aries or Sagittarius.”
“This is really it? That’s the final word?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Hmmm, okayyy…”
“What do you mean, hmmm, okayyy?”
“I mean, I don’t want to let you go down to defeat when I say that I’m an…Aquarius!”
“Ya! Really! From the very beginning I was saying Aquarius, but then it was you who got me all confused!”
“I got you confused! Wait a minute! Wasn’t it you who kept changing your mind?”
“I hate you. C’mon, let’s go. We’ve got a round to do.”
“Fine, so when are you going to tell me what an Aquarius is supposed to be like?”
“Oh, I’ll tell you right this minute. Aquarius men are really awful, they’re snobbish and they think they’re always cool. And the worst part is, some Libra girls make it easy for them!”
“So they’re the lucky ones.”
“Who? Aquarius men?”
“No! The ones they don’t look so bad to. You lucky one!”
When she got home that day, the first thing Lamees did was search her horoscope books to discover the degree of compatibility between Libra and Aquarius. She found that in one book it reached 85 percent and in another it didn’t get any better than 50 percent. She decided to put her faith in the first one. She came to a decision: this time around she would be smart and use her wiles. She would make Nizar fall into her trap. She would prove to Gamrah that it was possible for a girl to dream about the guy she wanted and then, with a little effort and patience, to get him.
That night she didn’t sleep until after the dawn call to prayer, the first of the five prayers, sounded. She stayed up filling her journal with war plans and rules of engagement that she vowed not to break. She felt she needed them for the days to come in case that heart of hers threatened to stray off the path. That was her usual way: to write down her thoughts and ideas on paper so that she would stick to her decisions.
In her journal, she wrote down everything: her general observations about men; the various pitfalls and misfortunes suffered by herself and her girlfriends and relatives; and snippets of advice she had heard or read at some time or other that remained perched in her mind waiting for the right moment. All of her instructions to herself began with “I will not…”
I will not allow myself to love him until I sense his love toward me.
I will not become attached to him before he proposes!
I will not let go of my guard and open up to him and I will not tell him about myself; I will stay vague and mysterious (men prefer that in women, an open-book girl is no challenge to them); and I will not let him feel that he is aware of every detail going on in my life no matter what the urge is to spill out everything!
I will not be Sadeem. I will not be Gamrah. I will not even be Michelle.
I will NEVER be the first to get in touch, and I will not answer too many of his phone calls.
I will not dictate to him what he must do, the way every other woman does with every other man.
I will not expect him to change for my sake, and I will not try to change him. If he doesn’t appeal to me with all of his flaws, then there is no good reason for us to stay together.
I will not give up any of my rights and I will not overlook anything wrong that he does (because he must not get used to that).
I will not confess to him my love (if I fall in love with him) before he tells me he loves me first.
I will not change myself for his sake.
I will not shut my eyes or ears to any signs of danger.
I will not live in a hopeless fantasy. If he does not tell me outright that he loves me within a period not to exceed three months, and give me very clear indications concerning the future of our relationship, I will end the relationship myself!
36.
To: [email protected]
From: “seerehwenfadha7et”
Date: November 12, 2004
Subject: Michelle Frees Herself of All Constraints
May God accept your fasting, your night prayers and all those good deeds you’ve been doing during the holy month of Ramadan. I missed all of you, my allies and my enemies, and I was touched by all the messages I got inquiring about me. They kept on coming right through the entire month of virtue. Here I am, I have returned to you like the fasting person returns to food in the month after Ramadan. Some of you thought that I would stop at this point and not continue the story after Ramadan. But friends and foes: I will carry on. The wick of confessions coils long. And the longer it burns, the more my writings blaze.
Michelle adapted to her new life more quickly than she had expected. She welcomed the fresh start and worked hard to put her former life behind her. It was true that all her deep anger and resentment at her world still lay crouched inside of her, but she was able to make enough peace with it so that she appeared undamaged to people around her. It helped that Dubai was prettier than she had expected, and that she and her family were treated far better by everyone there than she had anticipated.
At her new university, the American University at Dubai (AUD), she met an Emarati girl named Jumana who was about the same age and was also studying information technology. The two had several classes together, and each noticed the other’s good looks and perfect American accent right away. Jumana’s dad owned one of the biggest Arab satellite TV channels, and Michelle’s father was delighted to find that his daughter had made friends with the daughter of one of the most successful men in the United Arab Emirates, if not the whole Gulf. Meshaal would tell Jumana every time she came to visit them that she was a carbon copy of his sister: same height, same figure, same hairstyle, even same taste in clothes, shoes and bags. Meshaal was absolutely right. The two girls also had the same outlook on many things, and that helped them become close quickly. Their similar attributes freed them from the nasty issue of jealousy between girls who feel inferior to each other.
At the beginning of the first year’s summer break Jumana suggested to Michelle that she work with her at her father’s TV station on a weekly TV youth program. Michelle agreed enthusiastically. Every day they surfed Arab and foreign Internet sites searching out breaking arts news, which they presented in a report to the program’s producer. They were enthusiastic and thorough, and the producer gave them responsibility for handling the entire arts section on their own. As it happened, Jumana had planned to spend the rest of the vacation traveling with her family in Marbella, so the task fell on Michelle’s shoulders alone.
Michelle threw herself into her new job and continued it even after her fall term started. The program reported news and gossip about Arab and foreign celebrities, so Michelle’s job required her to contact PR managers around the Arab world to confirm this rumor or that or to schedule interviews. She got to know some of the people she reported on personally, and they began to include her in their plans when they visited Dubai. She got invitations to their parties regularly.
Girls of Riyadh Page 19