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

the poor man on the back of the head when
he allowed another driver to cut in front of our car.
    Kareem began to curse himself for not
arranging a police escort. Sara did her best to calm Kareem, but he
was like an unleashed storm. Finally, the British nurse spoke
loudly in his face; she advised him that his conduct was harmful to
his wife and child. She threatened to remove him from the vehicle
if he did not quiet himself.
    Kareem, a prominent royal prince who had
known no criticism in his life from a woman, entered a state of
shock and was speechless. We all breathed a sigh of relief.
    The hospital administrator and a large staff
that had been alerted by the household were waiting at the side
door. The administrator was delighted that our child would be born
in his institution, for in those days many of the young royals
traveled abroad for the event of birth.
    My labor was long and difficult, for I was
young and small in size and my baby was stubborn and large. I
recall little of the birth itself; my mind was seduced with drugs
and my memory is hazy. The nervous tension of the staff inflated
the mood of the room, and I heard the physician insult his staff
time and again. Without doubt, they were, as were my husband and
family, praying for the birth of a son. Their reward would be great
if a male child appeared; if a female child was born, there would
be great disappointment. As far I was concerned, a female child was
my desire. My land was bound to change, and I felt myself smile
with anticipation of the agreeable life my baby daughter would
know.
    The cheering of the physician and his staff
awoke me from a shadowy hollow. A son was born! I was sure I had
heard the physician whisper to his head nurse, “The rag-head in the
dress will fill my pockets for this prize!” My mind protested at
this insult to my husband, but a deep slumber took me from the room
and the remark was not recalled for many weeks. By that time,
Kareem had awarded the physician a Jaguar and fifty thousand
English pounds. His nurses were presented with gold jewelry from
the souqs along with five thousand English pounds each. The
jubilant hospital administrator from Egypt received a substantial
contribution to be used for the maternity wing. He was overjoyed
with a bonus of three months’ salary.
    All thoughts of a daughter vanished when my
yawning son was placed in my arms. A daughter would come later.
This male child would be taught different and better ways than the
generation before him. I felt the power of my intentions creating
his future. He would not be backward in his thinking, his sisters
would be given a place of honor and respect, and he would know and
love his partner before he wed. The vast possibilities of his
accomplishments glowed and glittered as a new star. I told myself
that many times in history, one man has created change that
influenced millions. I swelled with pride as I considered the good
to mankind that would flow from the tiny body in my arms. Without
doubt, the new beginning of women in Arabia could start with my own
blood.
    Kareem gave little thought to the future of
his son. He was enamored of fatherhood and quite rash with foolish
statements regarding the number of sons we would produce together.
We were mindless with joy!
     

Chapter Fifteen: Dark Secrets
    The completion of our birth ends in death.
Life begins with only one passageway; however, there are unlimited
means of exit. The usual and hoped-for method of departure follows
the wondrous fulfillment of life’s promise. When death claims one
blooming with life and cause for hope, it is the saddest of all
events. When blossoming youth ends as the result of another man’s
hand, it is the worst of life.
    At the rapturous occasion of the birth of my
son, I was confronted with the mindless death of a young and
innocent girl. Kareem and the medical staff attempted to cloister
me from the other Saudi women who were short steps away from my
suite. While my son slept beside me, with an entourage for
protection, other sons and daughters were kept in the nursery.
Curiosity about their life stories lured me from my rooms. As with
most of the royals, I had led a life sheltered from ordinary
citizens, and now my inquisitive nature led me to conversation with
these women.
    If my childhood had been bleak, the lives of
most Saudi women had been more bleak, I soon learned. My life was
ruled by men, but there was protection of sorts because of my
family name. The majority