Princess: A True Story of Life Behind the Veil in Saudi Arabia

The garden was inundated in flowers sent from
Holland. With thousands of overhanging colored lights, the grounds
were spectacular. Taking in the splendor, I forgot for a few
moments the grimness of the situation.
    The tent was already overflowing with guests.
Women from the Royal Family, literally weighed down by diamonds,
rubies, and emeralds, were sharing a social event with commoners, a
rare occasion. Lower classes of Saudi women are allowed to view our
weddings so long as they remain veiled and do not socialize with
the royals. One of my friends told me that sometimes men veil and
join these women so that they can view our forbidden faces.
Supposedly, all the male guests were being entertained at a major
hotel in the city, enjoying the same socializing as these women
guests: talking, dancing, and eating.
    At weddings in Saudi Arabia, men celebrate at
one location and women at another. The only men allowed at the
women’s celebration are the groom, his father, the father of the
bride, and a religious man to perform the short ceremony. In this
case, the groom’s father was deceased, so only our father would
accompany the groom when the time arrived for him to claim his
bride.
    Suddenly the slaves and servants began to
uncover the food. There was a rush toward the feast. The veiled
ones were the first to assault the food; these poor women were
cramming food under their veils and into their mouths. Other guests
began to sample smoked salmon from Norway, Russian caviar, quail
eggs, and other gourmet delicacies. Four large tables swayed with
the weight of the food: appetizers were on the left, main courses
in the middle, desserts to the right, and off to the side were the
liquid refreshments. No alcohol was visible, of course. But many of
the royal women carried small jeweled flasks in their purses. Now
and then, giggling, they would retire to the washrooms for a small
sip.
    Belly dancers from Egypt moved to the center
of the tent. The crowd of women of all ages quieted and watched the
dancers’ movements with mixed interest. This was my favorite part
of the wedding, but most of the women seemed uncomfortable with the
erotic display. We Saudis take ourselves too seriously and look at
fun and laughter with suspicion. But I was startled when one of my
older aunties leaped into the crowd and joined in the swaying of
the belly dancers. She was amazingly skilled, but I heard the
mumble of disapproval from several of my relatives.
    Once again, the sound of drums filled the
air, and I knew it was time for Sara to appear. All the guests
looked to the villa entrance in expectation. It was not long before
the doors opened wide and Sara, accompanied by our mother on one
side and an aunt on the other, was escorted to the dais.
    Since I last saw my sister, a cloudlike pink
veil had been draped over her face, held in place by a pink pearl
tiara. The sheer veil served only to enhance her remarkable beauty.
There was a low hum as the guests whispered their approval of her
appropriately tortured demeanor. After all, a young virgin bride
should look the part: frightened to the core of her being.
    Dozens of female relatives followed behind,
filling the air with the desert sounds of excitement and
celebration: the high-pitched trill that the women produced by
flicking their tongues on the roofs of their mouths. Other women
joined in with shrill cries. Sara stumbled but was kept upright by
our mother. Soon, my father and the groom made their appearance. I
knew the groom was older than my father, but I was decidedly
revolted by my first sight of him. He looked ancient to my young
eyes, and I thought he most resembled a weasel. I cringed at the
thought of him physically touching my shy and sensitive sister.
    The groom wore a leering smirk as he lifted
my sister’s veil. She was too drugged to react, and stood
motionless, facing her new master. The real marriage ceremony had
been performed weeks prior to the wedding; no women had been
present. Only men had participated in that ceremony, for it was the
signing of dowry agreements and exchange of legal papers. Today,
the few words would be spoken that would complete the marriage
rite. The religious man looked at Father as he spoke the token
words that Sara was now married to the groom in exchange for the
agreed-upon dowry. Then he glanced at the groom who, in response,
replied that he accepted Sara as his wife and that she, from this
time forward, would be under his care and protection.