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

inch this unnatural tyranny now focused
on one whom we all loved, Sameera.
    The day before, Sameera had been sentenced by
the men of her family and of her religion to be confined to a room
of darkness until she was claimed by death. Sameera was twenty-two.
Death would come slowly to one so young and strong of limb.
    Her crime? While in school in London, she had
met and fallen in love with one not of our faith. From our first
age of understanding, we Saudi women are taught that it is a sin
for any Muslim woman to bind herself to a non-Muslim: The religion
of her children cannot be guaranteed if her husband is Christian or
Jewish. Since the last word in the Middle Eastern family rests with
the husband, the children might well be brought up as Christian or
Jewish; the wife and mother would have no say.
    Every Muslim is taught that Islam is the
final message from Allah to mankind, and, therefore, it is the
faith superior to all others. Muslims are not allowed to bring
themselves knowingly under the patronage of non-Muslims, nor should
they ever allow such a relationship to develop. Yet many Saudi men
do marry women of other faiths without repercussions. Only Saudi
women pay the supreme price for their association with a
nonbeliever. Our religious scholars say the union of Muslim men
with women of other faiths is permissible, for the children are
raised in the superior Muslim faith of their father.
    Just thinking about the unfairness of it all
made me scream out in rage. My sisters and I understood that from
this moment, the stepping-stones of Sameera’s life, one by one,
would lead to a great tragedy. And we, her friends from childhood,
were helpless in our desires to rescue her.
    Sameera had been Tahani’s dearest friend
since the age of eight. She was an only child; her mother had
fallen ill with ovarian cancer and, although cured, she was told
there would be no other children. Surprisingly, Sameera’s father
had not divorced his now barren wife, which would have been
customary for the majority of Saudi men.
    My sisters and I had all known women stricken
with serious illnesses, only to be thrust aside by their husbands.
The social stigma of divorce is severe, and the financial and
emotional trauma overwhelming for women. If the children of a
divorced woman are not suckling, they too can be taken from her. If
divorced women are fortunate, they will have loving parents to
welcome them home, or an elder son who will give them shelter.
Without a supportive family, they are doomed, for no single or
divorced woman can live alone in my land. There are
government-sponsored homes built specifically to accommodate such
women, but life is bleak and each moment is cruel. Those few
divorced women who have an opportunity to remarry are lucky enough
either to be a great beauty or to have a great fortune. As with
everything else in Saudi society, the failure of the marriage and
the blame for divorce rests with the woman.
    Sameera’s mother had been one of the
fortunate. Her husband loved her truly and did not think of casting
her aside at her time of greatest need. He did not even take a
second wife to provide him with sons. Sameera’s father is a man
considered strange in our society.
    Sameera and Tahani were the best of friends.
And, since Sara and I were closest to Tahani in age, we were
playmates of Sameera too. All three of us were envious of Sameera
in many ways, for her father bestowed great passion on his only
child. He, unlike most Saudi men of his generation, was of a modern
mind and promised his daughter that she would be free of the
antiquated customs forced upon the females of our land.
    Sameera had felt our pain at the obvious
failings in our father. In every crisis she had stood firm with the
passion of our cause. My eyes stung as I recalled Sameera’s tears
at Sara’s wedding. She had clung to my neck, moaning that Sara
would die in the harness of servitude! And now she, Sameera, was
locked in the darkest of prisons where even servants were forbidden
to speak as they pushed her meals through a special slot at the
base of the only door. She was never to hear another human voice.
Her total world would be only the sound of her own breathing.
    The thought was unbearable. I turned to Sara
and suggested that Kareem and Asad might lend some assistance.
Tahani looked up in expectation. Sara shook her head slowly, no.
Asad had already made inquiries; neither the uncle nor Sameera’s
former husband would lift the harsh