Princess Sultana's Circle

daughters and I
would present to our family and friends into the trunk of our new
Mercedes. The elegantly wrapped gift boxes contained delicate
chocolates molded in the form of a mosque, silk scarves embroidered
with golden threads, bottles of the finest French perfumes,
colognes, and pearl necklaces.
    I knew exactly the palace
that I wanted to visit first! The previous year an eccentric cousin
whom we didn’t know very well had built a magnificent palace that I
had long been anxious to visit, because I had heard many fantastic
stories of its wonders from friends. This cousin, named Faddel, had
reportedly spent unimaginable sums of money to construct a palace
and surrounding gardens to closely resemble the likeness of
paradise itself—the heavenly paradise as described in our Holy
Koran.
    The Holy Koran gives many
details of the glory and pleasure that await those who honor God by
living the earthly life of a good Muslim. Patient and obedient
souls can look forward to spending eternity in one vast garden,
watered with pleasant streams and shaded with green trees, dressed
in silk and jewels. They will spend their time reclining on couches
while eating the finest food. Wine will not be forbidden, as it is
on earth, but will be served in silver goblets carried by handsome
servants.
    For a Muslim man fortunate
enough to reach paradise, yet another reward awaits him.
Seductively beautiful virgins, never yet touched by another man,
will attend to his every need, and fulfill his every sexual desire.
Each man will possess seventy-two of these lovely
virgins.
    Pious women will also enter
paradise, and it is said that these women will receive the greatest
joy from reciting the Koran and experiencing the supreme ecstasy of
beholding Allah’s face. All around these women will be children who
never grow old. Of course, since Muslim women do not have any
sexual desires, there will be no sexual partners awaiting them in
paradise.
    Although I was filled with
the greatest curiosity, wondering how my cousin Faddel had emulated
the wonders of paradise on earth, I also had a feeling of
foreboding. For some reason, my heart was telling me not to go to
that palace, to turn back. Despite this warning, I plunged ahead,
taking along my two daughters.
    Upon our arrival at
“Paradise Palace,” as one of our cousins had mockingly named it,
our driver found the iron gate to the entrance locked. The gate
guard was nowhere to be seen. Our driver went to search for him,
and reported that he could see two bare feet protruding from under
the guard’s chair through the gatehouse window.
    I ordered our driver to
pound on the glass partition. Finally, a sleepy Yemeni guard awoke
and opened the gate, and at last, we were able to enter.
    Although the driveway was
made of many costly polished stones reflecting a glittering luster,
it provided a jolting ride for those arriving in an automobile. I
looked about with great interest as we passed under the dense
branches of a thicket of trees. Once we had passed through the
grove of trees, we saw before us a scene of breathtaking
beauty.
    Faddel’s palace was not one
large building, as I had expected, but rather a succession of snowy
white pavilions. Perhaps as many as fifteen or twenty identical
pavilions with billowing sky blue roofs were arranged in a circle
around a larger pavilion, creating an imposing sight.
    The grass surrounding the
pavilions provided a lush carpet of green. Colorful beds of rare
flowers were artfully arranged throughout the grounds. The combined
colors of the white pavilions, the blue-tented roofs, the green
grass, and vivid blossoms were truly an inspired and beautiful
composition.
    “ Look, children,” I said,
“the grass here is as green as my new emerald necklace!”
    Maha exclaimed, “There are
more than ten pavilions!”
    “ Eighteen.” Amani said in a
flat tone of voice.
    “ Amani,” I said, pointing
at an ornate gold sign with “Stallions” written on it in green
lettering. “There’s a path leading to the stables.”
    I was somewhat surprised
that the Faddel I knew had stables. While a large number of my
cousins purchase and breed expensive horses, I had never heard of
Faddel having an interest in horses.
    Amani leaned over me to
peer at that sign, but said nothing.
    Our driver followed a
winding road that took us beneath an imposing white marble arch.
This surely was the entrance to the largest pavilion. A tall,
handsome Egyptian doorman opened the door of