Princess Sultana's Circle

passed
across the driver’s face, but he did as he was
instructed.
    My plan was to gather the
young women’s names and the addresses of their families so I could
contact their relatives. Once found, I calculated that their
parents could demand their daughters’ return through their
countries’ embassies.
    Maha and I both fell silent
as we walked down that long pathway. We were both aware that we
were involving ourselves in a very serious matter. And all without
Kareem’s knowledge.
    Soon I saw the infamous
pavilion, standing alone, just as Maha had described it. To me,
this building seemed identical to the other pavilions except that,
upon closer inspection, I saw that the windows were
barred!
    “ How can we get inside?” I
whispered, certain that this building was securely
locked.
    “ The door is unlocked,”
Maha told me, to my disbelief. “I asked the girls why they did not
run away. I was told that several girls had done so, but without
their passports and the appropriate travel papers signed by a Saudi
man, they were always brought back to certain punishment and even
worse treatment.”
    “ Hmmm.” I could understand
this. Unfortunately, most people in Saudi Arabia, expatriates and
native citizens alike, would be too fearful of government
retaliation to offer help to any woman claiming she was being held
in sexual bondage. Few people will risk imprisonment for the sake
of a stranger, and the men of my family often take revenge upon
people who expose the dark side of life in Saudi Arabia.
    As we neared the pavilion,
I was dumbfounded when a very old and bizarre-looking little man
stepped out of the bushes and in front of our path. We were both so
shocked at his appearance that we screamed.
    Gasping for breath, I stood
without speaking as I took in this most unusual creature. He was
short and skinny and ebony black. He appeared shorter than he was
by an unfortunate forward curvature of the spine. His withered face
showed his extreme age. His skin hung in loose folds around his
jowls. Yes, I decided, this was indeed the most ancient person I
had ever seen.
    Despite his age, though, he
was dressed in a bright yellow blouse and a sequined red vest. A
silk turban, turquoise in color, was wound around his head. His
full-cut drawers, fashioned out of a rich brocade run through with
golden threads, suggested the costumes of another age.
    “ May I help you, Madam.”
The man’s voice was abnormally highpitched. And, kindly!
    I looked more closely into
his face and saw brown eyes that were sparkling with
curiosity.
    “ Madam?” He waved one small
black hand before my eyes.
    I noted that he wore a ring
on every finger.
    “ Who are you?” I managed to
sputter.
    “ I am Omar,” he said, with
great pride. “Omar, of the Sudan.”
    For the first time I
noticed that the old man’s face was as hairless as my own. Suddenly
I was struck with a thought. Was I looking at a eunuch? I wondered.
Certainly, there were no longer eunuchs in Saudi Arabia! Surely,
they were all dead by now!
    In the not so distant past,
there were many eunuchs in Arabia. Although the Islamic faith
forbids Muslims to castrate young boys themselves, Muslims were not
forbidden from owning eunuchs as slaves. In fact, my forebears
considered eunuchs as prized possessions, and paid huge sums for
them. Once, eunuchs guarded the harems of wealthy Arabs. And they
were also a common sight in the mosques of Makkah and Medina, where
they were assigned to separate the women from the men when they
entered the mosques.
    Now, here I was actually
looking at one of these eunuchs, now pitifully aged! I was certain
of it!
    Acid words came to my
tongue, for I was immediately convinced of the role of this little
man here at Faddel’s pavilion. “And, I suppose you guard Faddel’s
harem?”
    Omar chuckled lightly. “No,
Madam, I do not.” He flexed one thin arm and pinched loose flesh
hanging from the other arm. “I could only guard prisoners who are
volunteers, nothing more.”
    As I looked down at his
small shrunken figure, I saw his point.
    He explained. “Faddel’s
father was once my master; his son allows me to live on these
premises.”
    Maha had soon overcome her
fear of the little man. She now impatiently tugged on my arm.
“Mother! Please hurry!”
    Omar’s appearance had taken
me back to another time, and I was curious to ask this eunuch many
questions, but the compelling reason for my visit here took
precedence. I must find the imprisoned