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

had progressed without the anticipated horror
or pain. Love and affection do not last, the mother will caution
her daughter; it is best to marry into a family that they know. And
then there are men, such as my father, who base their decision of
their daughters’ marriages upon possible personal or economic gain
through the union, and there is no higher authority to question the
verdict. Sara, for all her beauty, intelligence, and childhood
dreams, in the end was no more than a pawn in my father’s schemes
for wealth.
    This intimate view of my beloved sister’s
predicament filled me with a new resolve: It was my thought that we
women should have a voice in the final decision on issues that
would alter our lives forever. From this time, I began to live,
breathe, and plot for the rights of women in my country so that we
could live with the dignity and personal fulfillment that are the
birthright of men.
     

Chapter Five: Ali
    A few months after Sara’s return, my oldest
sister, Nura, convinced Father that Sara and I needed to see the
world outside Saudi Arabia. None of us had been able to rouse Sara
from her chronic depression, and Nura thought a trip would be just
the right medicine. As to the extent of my travels, I had visited
Spain twice, but I had been so young, my recollections did not
count.
    Nura, married to one of our first king’s
grandsons, pleased Father with her marriage and her calm, placid
outlook on life. She did as she was told, no questions asked.
Father actually grew fond of her as the years passed, for few of
his daughters had Nura’s complaisant qualities. Since Sara’s
divorce, Father held Nura up as a constant reminder to the rest of
his daughters. She had married a stranger and her marriage had
proven to be satisfactory. Of course, the real reason was that her
husband was considerate and attentive.
    In Father’s mind, Sara had obviously provoked
her husband into criminal behavior. It is never the fault of the
man in the Middle East. Even if he murders his wife, the man will
state “valid” reasons for his action, which will be accepted by
other men without question. In my country, I have seen newspapers
print articles that honor a man for executing his wife or daughter
for the crime of “indecent behavior.” The mere suspicion of sexual
misconduct, such as kissing, can bring death to a young girl. In
addition, public congratulations are given from the men of religion
for the father’s “notable” act of upholding the commands of the
Prophet!
    Nura and Ahmed were in the midst of
constructing a palace and Nura wanted to travel to Europe to
purchase Italian furnishings. On the way, we were to stop off in
Egypt so that Nura’s young children could view the pyramids.
    Father, with twenty-two daughters from four
wives, was often overheard muttering, “Women are a man’s curse.” It
did not help his attitude that his younger daughters were in a kind
of rebellion against the absolute rule of men. Our talk and actions
were unprecedented and unappreciated. Knowing full well we would
never reach the heights we desired, our talk alone was a victory of
sorts, for no Saudi women had ever approached the topics we
discussed with such great abandon. Nura wanted Mother to go abroad
with us, but Mother had been strangely quiet since Sara’s return.
It was as if her one great rebellion against Father’s rule had
drained her life’s blood. But she encouraged the trip, for she
wanted Sara to see Italy. She thought I was too young and should
stay home, but, as usual, a temper tantrum accomplished the result
I wanted. Sara showed little interest, even in the possibility of
seeing the artistic wonders of Italy, but I was out of control with
happiness.
    My joy was shattered by Ali’s smug
announcement that he was going with us. Father thought I needed a
chaperon. In an instant, I lost my mind at the thought of Ali’s
treacherous presence ruining my vacation, and I was determined to
insult him in the worst way. I grabbed his new ghutra (headdress)
and igaal (black cord that rests on the top of the ghutra) and
raced through the house to my bathroom. I had no notion of what I
was going to do with them, but a Saudi man is highly offended if
anyone even touches his headdress. I felt an urge to hurt Ali as
quickly as possible.
    When Ali followed, shouting that he would
tell Father, I slammed the bathroom door on him. Since he was
wearing sandals, Ali’s big toe was broken, and his hand was
bruised. By