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

goat on a lead so that her driver could identify him. She told
him that her parents were out of town; it was safe for Ali to
follow the driver to her home for a secret meeting.
    The construction was across the street from
my girlfriend’s home, and my sisters and I had joined her on her
bedroom balcony. We made ourselves sick with laughter as we watched
poor Ali stand for hours, holding on to the baby goat and
stretching his neck for signs of the driver. Much to our amusement,
the girl managed to talk Ali into the same situation not once, not
twice, but on three occasions! In Ali’s eagerness to meet a girl,
he had lost his sanity. I remember thinking that this silly veiling
business works both ways!
    Encouraged by my sisters’ laughter and
confidence, I managed to put Huda’s rumblings out of my mind. After
all, she was over eighty years of age, and was more than likely
senile.
    My consternation returned with a rush when
Father visited us that evening and announced that he had found a
suitable husband for me. With a sinking heart I could only think
that the first of Huda’s predictions had come true. In my terror, I
failed to ask Father the name of my husband-to-be and fled the room
with darkness in my eyes and bile in my throat. I lay awake most of
the night and thought of Huda’s words. For the first time in my
young life, I feared my future.
    Nura returned to our villa the following
morning to advise me that I was to wed Kareem, one of the royal
cousins. As a young child, I had played with this cousin’s sister,
but recalled little she had said about him other than that he was a
bossy brother. He was now twenty-eight years of age and I was to be
his first wife. Nura told me that she had seen a photo of him; he
was exceptionally handsome. Not only that, he had been educated in
London as a lawyer. Even more unusual, he had distinguished himself
from most of the royal cousins in that he held a real position in
the business world. Recently, he had opened his own large law firm
in Riyadh. Nura added that I was a very lucky girl, for Kareem had
already told Father that he wanted me to complete my schooling
before starting a family. He did not want a woman with whom he
could not share mental exchanges.
    In no mood to be patronized, I made an ugly
face at my sister and pulled the bed covers over my head. Nura drew
a long breath when I shouted out that I was not the lucky one;
instead my cousin Kareem was the one with luck!
    After Nura left, I called Kareem’s sister,
whom I knew slightly, and told her to advise her brother that he
had best reconsider marrying me. I threatened that if we married he
could not take other wives or I would poison them all at my first
opportunity. Besides, I told her, Father had a difficult time
finding a husband for me since I had an accident in the school lab.
When Kareem’s sister asked me what had happened, I pretended to be
shy but finally admitted that I had stupidly dropped a flask of
acid; as a result my face was hideously scarred. I had a good laugh
when she hung up the phone in a rush to tell her brother.
    Later that evening, Father stamped furiously
into the villa with two of Kareem’s aunties in tow. I was forced to
stand at attention while they looked me over for any signs of
facial scars or misshapen limbs. I became so angry at the
examination that I opened my mouth and told them to check my teeth,
if they dared. I leaned toward them and made loud, chomping sounds.
Looking back over their shoulders in dismay, they ran out of the
room when I neighed like a horse and raised the bottoms of my feet
to their faces, which is a terrible insult in the Arab world.
    Father stood and looked at me for a long
moment. He seemed to be battling his emotions, and then, to my
complete astonishment, he shook his head and began to laugh. I had
fully expected a slap or a lecture—never in my wildest imagination
did I expect him to laugh. I felt a trembling smile form on my
face, and then I too began to convulse with laughter. Curious, Sara
and Ali came into the room and stood, with questioning smiles on
their faces.
    Father collapsed on the sofa, wiping tears
off his face with the hem of his thobe. He looked at me and said,
“Sultana, did you see their faces when you tried to bite them? One
looked like a horse herself! Child, you are a wonder. I do not know
whether to pity or envy your cousin Kareem.” Father blew his nose.
“For sure, life with you will be a tempestuous