Princess Sultana's Circle

now.” Kareem gave me a pointed look.
    “ Who was that?”
    “ Faddel wants those damn
birds returned. Immediately.”
    I groaned. No more than an
hour had passed, and Faddel already knew about Amani’s mischief! My
plan to return the birds quickly was no longer possible.
    Just then Maha came running
from the women’s garden. “Mother, Amani she says she’ll kill
herself before she lets you take away the birds!”
    I slapped my hands
together.
    “ I think she means it,
too,” Maha added melodramatically. “She claims she will garrote
herself with her red leather belt!”
    I screamed.
    With a worried look, Kareem
headed for the women’s garden. Maha and I followed him without a
word. So did Tony, Frank, and Jerry, at a discreet
distance.
    Amani was standing guard in
front of the lines of birdcages. A determined look was etched on
her face, and her eyes glowered. This meant trouble.
    Kareem was furious but he
spoke cautiously. “Amani, I have just received a disturbing
telephone call from Cousin Faddel. He told me an unbelievable
story. He says that you, Amani, stole his birds. Is this true,
Daughter?”
    Amani moved her lips into a
smile, but the look in her eyes negated it. “I did save some birds
from a terrible death, Father.”
    Kareem said calmly. “You
know you must return those birds, Daughter. They do not belong to
you.”
    My eyes were fixed
pleadingly on Amani, hoping she would consent.
    Amani’s phony smile
disappeared. She thought for a moment before tilting her head in
defiance. In a clear and sure voice, she quoted a verse of the
Koran, “And they feed, for the love of God, the indigent, the
orphan, and the captive.” (S. LXXVI.8) And added, in her own words,
“The righteous Muslim will not starve any animal.”
    I knew, as does every
Muslim, that Islamic authorities agree that the word “captive”
includes animals who are under subjection to man, and that such
creatures must be properly fed, housed, and looked after by
faithful Muslims.
    “ You will have to return
the birds, Amani,” Kareem repeated sternly.
    A strangled scream burst
out of Amani. “There was no food or water in many of the cages!”
Her hoarse voice lowered as she turned to stare into one of the
cages nearest her. “When I looked into their sweet little faces, I
knew that I must save them!” She gestured toward a bench behind
her. “I was too late to save them all,” she said, her voice
quivering. “I found more than two dozen dead birds.”
    I looked at the bench, and
was startled to see a large number of dead birds lying in a perfect
row. Amani had placed a wreath of freshly picked flowers around the
tiny bodies.
    Tears began to form in her
eyes. “I will give them a funeral later,” Amani
promised.
    The insensitive Maha
laughed loudly, echoed by the three Filipino gardeners.
    “ Shut up, and leave this
place,” Kareem commanded angrily.
    Maha shrugged, and then
turned away, but the sound of her amused laughter followed her as
she walked down the garden path.
    The three Filipinos took
cover behind some bushes. I did not point out their presence to
Kareem because they were three of my favorite servants, and I did
not want to risk deflecting Kareem’s great anger toward Amani, onto
them. The lives of our unmarried servants are so empty of family
life that they tend to take great interest in our household
dramas.
    Amani was weeping in
earnest now. “I will not return these birds!” she pledged, “If you
force me to do so, I will throw myself into the Red
Sea!”
    I gasped, first the
garrote, and now the sea! How would I ever protect my child from
the force of her own emotions?
    Kareem and I exchanged
anxious looks. We both knew that our youngest child loved animals
with an intensity that defied all reason.
    Kareem’s voice sounded
drained and tired. “Amani, sweetheart, I will buy you a thousand
other birds.”
    “ No! No! I will not return
these birds!” Amani flung her small body over one of the birdcages
and began to screech.
    Distraught at the sight of
our child in such anguish, Kareem and I both ran to her
side.
    “ Darling,” I cried, “you
are going to make yourself sick. Hush, little one.” Amani’s sobs
were coming from deep inside her body. I had heard of a female
cousin who had cried so hysterically at the sight of her deceased
mother that she had broken a blood vessel in her throat and had
nearly joined her mother in the grave! I now had horrific visions
of such a thing happening