Princess Sultana's Circle

does he work? Where does he
live?”
    “ Well, Margaret has never
been to Saudi Arabia, and she has no idea where he lives. He has a
degree from Arkansas State University, so he is qualified to teach
computer programming. But, since Abdulbaset so recently returned to
Saudi Arabia, Margaret has no way of knowing if he has a
job.”
    “ Hmmm.” I was thinking how
I might help. If only there were a telephone number or a home
address.
    “ Anne, I cannot rescue this
child. You know that. But, if the mother can provide pictures of
Heidi and her father, I will do my best to locate her, but don’t
raise her hopes too much, please.”
    “ I have a recent picture of
Heidi,” Anne said, “but I will have to telephone Margaret about a
picture of the father.”
    “ His evil act shames every
Saudi and every Muslim,” I murmured.
    “ Well, Margaret says that
Abdulbaset professes to be a devout Muslim.”
    “ Believe me, Anne, no truly
good Muslim would steal a child away from its mother,” I said
angrily.
    Before we ended our
conversation, Anne promised to send any additional information on
this case to me at the Plaza Hotel.
    I sighed deeply, overcome
with depressing visions of the innocent Heidi in her bewilderment
at finding herself in a strange country, far away from her loving
mother.
    My sorrow soon turned to
anger, which grew until I began to feel an unreasoning hatred
toward every man.
    When Kareem returned to our
hotel suite I refused to answer his queries about my day of
shopping. Confused by my surliness, he persisted with his
questioning until I burst out, “You, and every other man on earth
should be flogged, Kareem!”
    Kareem’s mouth dropped in
surprise, and his comical expression finally convinced me to tell
him the reason for my distress.
    “ I telephoned
Anne.”
    Kareem’s lips pressed into
a thin line. “Oh?” Although he likes Anne he believes she is a
woman who would rather climb a wall than go through an unlocked
gate.
    But I know that Anne’s
willfulness is borne of her sincere desire to help many people, and
for that, I like and admire her.
    I then told Kareem the
details of my conversation with Anne. His reaction was exactly as I
would have predicted. Despite the fact that he is more sympathetic
to feminist issues than most Arab men, he is reluctant to waste
time on problems that he believes are unsolvable.
    “ Sultana, when will you
ever learn that it is impossible for one woman to solve every other
woman’s problem?”
    “ That is why we need help
from men—men in power!”
    Kareem shook his head in a
determined manner. “I refuse to get involved in this situation,
Sultana. This is a personal matter best dealt with by members of
the family.”
    I could not restrain my
urge to strike Kareem for one moment longer! I kicked out at his
leg, but missed.
    A laughing Kareem grabbed
me and held me close.
    I broke down in tears.
Without the help of our men, how would we women ever change the
course of women’s lives? Men had all the political
power!
    In his desire to alter the
course of the evening, Kareem began to kiss my face and tell me,
“It’s just that I worry about you, Sultana.” He stroked my back.
“You have such small shoulders, darling, yet you try to carry every
problem afflicting women on these delicate shoulders.”
    I refused to
respond.
    Kareem studied my face
carefully before saying, “Darling, I have a special gift for you. I
was saving it for later, but now seems an appropriate
time.”
    I resisted Kareem’s attempt
to kiss my lips. I was not interested in yet another expensive
gift.
    “ It’s not what you think,
Darling.” He paused. “I wrote a poem for you.”
    I leaned back in
surprise.
    We Arabs are “people of the
ear,” rather than “people of the books,” and we are often inclined
to express our strongest feelings by composing poetry and reading
it aloud.
    Yet, Kareem was one of the
few Arabs I knew who rarely arranged his thoughts and emotions into
poetry. My husband has an analytical mind, which I attribute to his
lawyer’s training.
    Kareem gently led me toward
a chair. “Sit down, darling.”
    I sat.
    Kareem knelt on the floor
and took my hands into his, his eyes staring straight into mine.
His strong, clear voice lowered to a lover’s whisper.
     
    You go first.
    Go through the door before
me.
    Enter the limousine while I
wait by your side.
    Enter the shops while I
stand behind, guarding your back.
    Sit at the table before
me.
    Please,