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

arose as to
donor-typing and surgical procedures. It was unlikely that the
child had undergone surgery in Saudi Arabia; at that time such an
operation was not common in the kingdom.
    When the police investigated, they suggested
that the child had been taken to India by a rich Saudi who had a
child in need of a kidney transplant. Perhaps this person had
abducted more than one child and had selected the one most
suitable. No one could determine the events that led to the
surgery, for the child could recall only a long black car and a
bad-smelling handkerchief held by a big man. She had awakened to
severe pain. Isolated in a room with a nurse who could not speak
Arabic, she saw no other persons. The day of her release, she was
blindfolded, driven for a long time, and unexpectedly dropped at
her door.
    Without a doubt, whoever had abducted the
child was wealthy, for when her father had jumped from the car and
seized his daughter in his arms, she was clutching a small bag
filled with more than twenty thousand dollars in cash, along with
many pieces of expensive jewelry.
    Understandably, Widad despised my land and
the oil riches that had shaped a people who considered their wealth
the conqueror of all of life’s obstacles. Sacred body parts were
taken from innocent children and cash left to neutralize the anger
of those injured! When Widad saw my look of utter disbelief at her
story, she rushed to bring me her sleeping child and exposed the
long red scar that showed clearly the moral depths to which some
men will stoop.
    I could only shake my head in horror.
    Widad gazed at her sleeping daughter with
rapt love; her return was nothing short of a miracle. Widad’s
parting words erased the fragile pride I still had left in my
nationality: “You, as a Saudi woman, have my sympathy. In my short
time in your country, I saw the manner of your lives. For sure,
money may smooth your paths, but such a people as the Saudis will
not endure.” She paused for a moment of reflection before
continuing: “While it is true that financial desperation leads
foreigners to Saudi Arabia, you are still hated by all that have
known you.”
    I last saw Widad at the London airport,
clinging fiercely to her precious child. After scheduled medical
appointments in London for her daughter, Widad was willing to risk
the bombs of Lebanese enemies over the hypocrisy and inconceivable
evil of those of my land, the Saudis.
    The children and I stayed overnight in
London. We crossed the Channel in a ferry and arrived in France the
following day. From there we went by train to Zurich. I left the
children in a hotel for a few hours while I emptied my son’s Swiss
bank account. With a draft for more than six million dollars in
hand, I felt secure.
    I hired a driver with a car to take us to
Geneva; from there we flew back to London and then on to the
Channel Islands. There, I deposited the money in an account in my
name and kept the cash from the safe in Riyadh for our expenses. We
then flew to Rome, where I hired another driver to take us back to
Paris.
    In Paris, I hired a full-time housekeeper, a
driver, and a bodyguard. Then, under an assumed name, I rented a
villa on the outskirts of Paris. After such a confusing trail, I
felt secure that Kareem would never find us.
    A month later, I left the children in the
care of the housekeeper while I flew to Frankfurt. There, I entered
a bank and said that I was from Dubai and wanted to make a large
deposit. Escorted into the bank manager’s office and given
preferential treatment, I removed large sums of money from my bag
and laid the cash upon the manager’s desk.
    While he stared in shock at the money, I said
that I needed to make a telephone call to my husband, who was away
on business in Saudi Arabia. I was, of course, more than willing to
pay for the call and laid five hundred dollars in his hand. The
manager quickly got to his feet and practically clicked his heels
together as he told me to take as much time as I needed. He closed
the door and said he would be three offices down the hallway if I
needed him.
    I telephoned Sara. I knew her baby had been
born by now, and she would more than likely be at home. I breathed
a sigh of relief when one of the servants answered and said yes,
the mistress was at home.
    Sara screamed in relief when she heard my
voice. I quickly asked her if her telephone lines were tapped and
she said she was not certain. In a rush of words she added that
Kareem was out of his mind