Princess Sultana's Circle

women before I was
discovered by Faddel. My only hope was that the eunuch would not
alert Faddel and Khalidah of our unauthorized entry into the
grounds.
    “ We are here only to speak
to the young women living there,” I pointed at the pavilion. “We
will not be long. You have my word.”
    Omar swept his head to the
ground in a graceful bow, “You are most welcome.”
    Enchanted at his display of
gracious manners, I smiled as Maha and I brushed past
him.
    The moment we stepped into
the interior of the pavilion, we were surrounded by a large number
of excited young women. Most looked Asian. Maha was greeted with
many hugs and kisses. Happy voices rang out in the room. “You kept
your word! We will be freed!”
    I cautioned them. “Quiet!
You will wake those already in the grave!”
    The loud laughing voices
then became low, joyful voices.
    I took a moment to survey
Faddel’s harem while the anxious young women swirled around Maha
with many questions. Surprisingly, considering Faddel’s
preoccupation with all things beautiful, the room where we stood
appeared rather shabby. Although the furniture was expensive and
the walls were covered in gold silk, ornate decorations appeared
garish and grubby. Stacks of videotapes and ashtrays piled high
with cigarette butts and ashes cluttered the room.
    I looked closely at the
young girls. Each one was beautiful, but their tawdry attire drew
the eye more than their beauty. Some were dressed in Western-style
halter-tops and jeans; others wore sheer nighties. There was
nothing glamorous about their harem apparel. Sadly, all of them
were unbearably young.
    While most of the girls
were Asian, I saw one who appeared to be Arab. Several were smoking
cigarettes and sipping cold drinks. I had never imagined that a
harem and its occupants could appear so conspicuously vulgar.
However, I imagined that to Faddel’s eyes, these young women were
like the seductive virgins called “houris” that are described in
the Koran. I suspected that I was looking at a stage intended to
provide untold delights for Faddel. Yet, this must be the scene of
unspeakable hell for these women held against their
will.
    “ Everyone, quickly, sit
down,” I ordered, as I retrieved a pen and pad from within my large
handbag. “We do not have much time,” I said, as I looked toward the
door at the entry of the pavilion. I gasped when I saw that Omar
had followed Maha and me, and was now sitting comfortably on the
carpeted floor. He smiled broadly. However, some inner sense told
me that I had no reason to fear the little man.
    “ Now, I am going to pass
this notebook around the room. Everyone, please write down your
name, and an address where I can reach your relatives.”
    A low moan of
disappointment and frustration swept through the room. One of the
older girls, whom I judged to be about twenty years old, asked me
in her soft voice, “Then, we are not going with you today,
Ma’am?”
    Sadly, with my hand I made
a sweeping motion around the room. “I cannot. Look at you, you are
too many. I have no way of obtaining passports. You would be
returned before nightfall.” I paused as I quickly counted. There
were twenty-five young girls in that room. I then tried to speak
above the din of their voices.
    “ Your families must protest
to their embassies. That is your best chance for
release.”
    Sobbing voices began to
clamor in objection.
    One of the younger girls,
who disclosed that she was from Thailand, wailed, “But, Ma’am, my
own parents sold me to this man.” Her sobbing voice drifted off.
“They will not help me…”
    “ That is my story too,”
said another girl, shivering in her skimpy outfit. “I was taken
from my small village in the North to Bangkok. My brother collected
many American dollars for me.”
    Another frightened girl
said, “I believed that I had been hired to work as a maid! But, it
was all a lie!”
    “ And, I? I was employed as
a seamstress in a factory. My days were spent sewing; my nights
were spent serving many men. I was sold to three different men
before being purchased by Master Faddel.”
    Trying to collect my
bewildered thoughts, I exchanged a glance with Maha. If the
families of these young girls had actually sold them into slavery,
how could I possibly help them?
    “ Let me think,” I said
nervously. “I need to think.”
    A delicate young beauty,
her eyes tear-filled, lightly touched my arm. “You must take us
with you! If you only knew my story, you