Princess Sultana's Circle

and
blood?
    I smiled bitterly when I
heard female cousins admire Munira’s handsome and wealthy new
husband. A silent prayer lingered unspoken on my tongue. Oh God,
have mercy on Saudi women. And, quickly!
     

Chapter Three
    My Secret
    On the day following
Munira’s “sanctified bondage,” Kareem had to depart Saudi Arabia
for a three-week business trip to Japan. Abdullah accompanied his
father. The unhappy time had come for Abdullah to return to his
university schooling in the United States, and the plan was for him
to fly on to California after staying with Kareem for a few days in
Japan. Tears came to my eyes each time I remembered that I would
not see the handsome face of my beloved son for three long
months.
    Other than the servants, my
daughters and I were alone in our palace in Riyadh. But these
daughters were little comfort to their mother since they, too, were
preparing for the coming school year. They preferred to spend the
remaining time with their friends.
    I have always been restless
and easily bored, and I have to confess I am unceasingly
inquisitive as to my children’s activities. So I passed the empty
hours by pacing up and down lonely hallways on the second floor of
our home, pausing frequently at the doorways of my daughters’
rooms. When they were younger, my daughters had shared the same
wing. But now, because of Amani’s determined penchant to destroy
Maha’s glossy fashion magazines and musical tapes, Kareem and I had
moved Amani to a wing on the South side of the palace, while Maha
remained on the North wing. Therefore, the steps I made were
many.
    My findings rarely varied.
The sound of persistent chanting and praying usually drifted from
within Amani’s suite; while loud laughter and even louder American
rock and roll music blared from behind Maha’s door.
    Bored with spying on my
all-too-predictable daughters, I withdrew to my private quarters.
With Munira’s tragic plight exercising complete dominance over my
mind, I was not in the mood to attend the usual women’s afternoon
parties at the homes of friends or relatives.
    Hadi had taken his young
bride to Morocco for a month-long honeymoon. Although I could
barely bring myself to think of Munira’s present agony, I did want
confirmation that the poor child was all right. So, I telephoned
Tammam to inquire if there were any news of the couple. I was
incredulous when Tammam confessed that she had been too timid to
ask Hadi for the telephone number of the hotel where the couple
would be staying. I slammed down the telephone rather than risk a
possible outburst at Tammam’s maddeningly insipid
behavior.
    There was nothing to do but
to wait. To my dismay, I began to crave an alcoholic drink,
although I fought my sinful desire.
    A few hours later, a
distraught Tammam called to report that Munira had surreptitiously
telephoned while Hadi was out of their hotel room, to tell her
mother that she detested and feared her new husband even more than
she had ever believed possible.
    Upon hanging up the
telephone, sick with despair, I lay across the bed. A numbness
spread over my body. How powerless I felt! There was nothing that
I, or anyone else, could do to help Munira. She was legally wed to
Hadi, now.
    Years before I had learned
that no authority in our country would interfere with a private
matter between a man and a woman. A thousand years would come and
go, and the bodies of Saudi women would still be owned by Saudi
men! How I hated our helplessness!
    Tears flowed down my face.
My heart was fluttering dangerously. I quickly determined to turn
my mind to other matters. Yes, I would occupy myself with a task. I
had been negligent in keeping an account of our family’s stores of
alcohol. I would make a surprise inspection. Not that I had any
intention of having a drink, I promised myself, as I pulled a
dressing gown over my head—I simply wanted to ensure that no one
was pilfering these costly and scarce supplies. Since alcoholic
beverages are banned in Saudi Arabia, it is dauntingly expensive to
acquire a large supply on the black market. One bottle of liquor
costs from anywhere from 200 Saudi Riyals to 350 Saudi Riyals
($55-$95).
    I walked through our palace
blind to the magnificence of our recently redecorated rooms that
were rich in paintings, tapestries, and antique European furniture.
The year before, Kareem and I had employed a Milanese decorator,
who had enthusiastically hired laborers to tear down walls, replace
ceilings and