Princess Sultana's Circle

the story of this extraordinary
princess.
     

Introduction
    My Dream
    A few months ago as I lay
sleeping, my beloved mother came to me in a dream. Mother was robed
in an embroidered cloak of vivid red; her long, black hair was
braided with golden threads. Her face was shining and unlined, and
her luminous eyes were all-knowing and wise.
    Her appearance under a
shimmering green tree beside a spring of the bluest water dazzled
me. Bright flowers grew lush and abundant all around
her.
    In my dream, my heart was
beating wildly as I called out, “Mother!” With arms outspread, I
anxiously hurried toward her. But there was an invisible barrier
keeping her tantalizingly out of reach.
    Mother gazed at the
youngest of her earthly children with great love mingled with sad
resignation.
    And then she spoke.
Although her voice was sonorous and sweet, her revelation was
stern. “Sultana,” she said, “my journey here has been frustrated by
your pains, discontents, disappointments, and misfortunes.” She
quietly scrutinized me.
    “ Daughter, when you were a
wayward child, I often had to frighten you into reasonable
behavior.” She arched her eyebrows, “I see that my presence is
still needed, Sultana.”
    The knowledge that I had
created worries for my mother, even after she entered paradise,
caused me to burst into tears.
    I was born a Princess in a
rich desert Kingdom where the persecution of women is increasing,
and I could not dispute that I have led an unconventional
life.
    I cried out, “Mother, a
great wind has carried me through life! How might I have lived my
life differently?”
    Mother slowly shook her
head. “Even in the midst of a heated battle, Sultana, a good heart
fights clean.”
    I flinched.
    Mother’s look softened.
“But, that is not the matter of which I am now speaking,
child.”
    “ Then, what?” I
entreated.
    “ Sultana, your life is as
that of a mindless magician unfurling endless silks. You seem to
have everything in life; yet, you have nothing. Your existence does
not bring you happiness, my daughter.”
    Desperate for Mother to
comfort me as she had done in the past, the significance of her
words slipped past me.
    Then the fragile petals of
the flowers around her began to fold, and Mother’s countenance,
too, began to fade.
    I cried out, “Mother!
Please stay! Wait!”
    Her incandescent form was
now barely visible, yet I clearly heard her say, “Sultana, in the
middle of a feast, you are starving. Dissolve into something
greater than yourself, my child.”
    I emerged from that dream
in an ecstasy of joy, but the memory of Mother’s mysterious message
has continued to haunt me.
    Sadly, I had to acknowledge
that Mother’s words were true, that I have let my life stagnate.
Once, I embarked on a noble and stimulating quest to improve the
lives of women in my land. But finding myself helpless against the
unassailable power of Saudi Arabian men, I let myself grow
discouraged. Yet, so long as women in my own country can be married
against their will, physically abused and raped under the sanction
of the law, even legally murdered at the whim of their fathers,
husbands, and brothers, how could I stop fighting?
    Following my mother’s
visit, I took courage from the knowledge that there was still a
purpose for me in this ongoing struggle, a new role that I was
meant to fulfill. At this moment, however, I had no understanding
of where that might lead.
     

Chapter One
    Munira’s
Destiny
    One of the major traditions
of Islam is reported to have originated from a meeting of the
Prophet Mohammed and his followers when the Prophet took a stick
and pointed to the ground, “There is not one among you whose
sitting place is not written by God, whether in fire or in
paradise.” From this tradition, the Islamic faith teaches that all
things in life are predestined and that every person’s fate has
been decreed by Allah. While this fatalism creates a dignified
resignation to life’s hardships for many Muslims, I have fought
against this pessimistic inertia throughout my life, and I cannot
accept the tragic lives lived by so many Saudi women as the
preordained will of Allah.
    So when I learned that a
dreadful piece of our family history was about to be repeated, I
knew that I could never just fatalistically accept a horrifying and
shameful destiny being assigned to one of my nieces.
    Our family had recently
returned to our palace in Riyadh from a trip to Egypt. My husband,
Kareem and our eldest