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

children! I jumped to my feet
and asked him what bad news he brought. He seemed surprised that I
anticipated unpleasant tidings. Then Kareem uttered words that I
never, in my wildest expectations thought I would hear from my
husband.
    “Sultana, I have made a decision, a very
difficult decision, some months ago. I have not discussed this
matter with you due to your illness.”
    I nodded, unclear to what was awaiting me,
though I was terrified to hear his words.
    “Sultana, you are, and will always be, the
most important woman—wife—in my heart.”
    I still had no notion of what message my
husband wanted me to hear, but without doubt, his words were meant
to prepare me for news I would not embrace. I felt numbness creep
into my face; I knew with certainty that I did not want him to
reveal what change I would soon know as actuality.
    “Sultana, I am a man that can afford many
children. I desire ten, twenty, as many as God sees fit to give
me.”
    He paused for what seemed a lifetime. I held
my breath in fear. “Sultana, I am going to wed another. As the
second wife, she will be there to provide me children. I need
nothing further from her, only children. My love is always with
you.”
    No sound could be heard because of the
pounding in my head. I was trapped in a dark reality that I did not
believe. Never, never, never had such a consideration entered the
realm of possibility.
    Kareem waited for my reaction. At first, I
could not move. My breath finally came back to me in deep, ragged
gasps. The truth of his announcement slowly sank into my mind and
came to life; when my strength returned, I could answer him only
with a fit of passion that brought us both to the floor.
    The depth of my pain could not be expressed
in words. I needed to hear Kareem beg for my mercy as I clawed his
face and kicked his groin and tried desperately to kill the man who
was my husband.
    Kareem struggled to get to his feet, but
because of the sudden madness that had consumed me with violence, I
was possessed with great physical strength. To restrain me, Kareem
had to pin me to the ground and sit astride my body.
    My screams pierced the air. The names I
called my husband caused the gathering servants to freeze. Like a
wild creature, I spit into Kareem’s face and watched his
astonishment grow as he witnessed the fury he had triggered.
Finally, the servants, in fear of what they were witnessing, rushed
to various areas and hid themselves in buildings and behind
bushes.
    At last, my rage was spent. A deadly calm
fell over me. My mind was made up. I told Kareem that I wanted a
divorce; I would never submit to the humiliation of his taking
another wife. Kareem replied that divorce would be out of the
question unless I chose to give up my children for his second wife
to raise. He would never allow them to leave his home.
    In a flash, I saw my life before me. Kareem,
far removed from the dignity and decency of a civilized man,
assuming one wife after another. Most men and women sense the
limits they can bear; philosophically, I did not have the
disposition to abide such debauchery.
    Kareem could mouth any deception he chose,
but I understood the implications of his taking a second wife. The
desire for children was not his basis. The issue was primitive. We
had been wed for eight years; sexual license was his aim.
Obviously, my husband was weary of eating the same dish and sought
a new, exotic fare for his palate.
    To think that Kareem thought me mindless
enough to accept his well-thought-out explanation further enraged
me. Yes, I would accept what God placed before me, but this
dispensation did not extend to my earthly husband. I told Kareem to
remove himself from my presence; I would, on this day, restrain
from murder.
    For the first time, I felt keenly the first
emotions of dislike toward my husband. His façade was wisdom and
kindness; his very bowels were cunning and selfish. I had lain
beside him eight years; yet, he suddenly seemed like a stranger I
did not know at all. I asked him to leave my sight. I was disgusted
to discover that he was merely a shell of a man with little to
commend him, after all.
    I watched him as he walked away, head low,
shoulders slumped.
    How was it possible to love him less than an
hour before? Yet, the flow of my love had slowed. I had held the
character of Kareem high, regarding him in great favor over other
men of our society. Yet, sadly, at the core of his being, he was as
all the rest.
    Yes, we had lived