Princess Sultana's Circle

Egyptian massage therapist and
Lebanese facial specialist, she finally decided to accompany
us.
    Sara and I were often
annoyed with Dunia’s behavior. Without a doubt, Dunia possesses the
ideal personality for a Saudi royal princess. Of the ten daughters
born to our mother, none is better at enjoying a life of leisure
than Dunia. Her favorite pastime is to make herself as perfect as
the imperfections of her face and body will allow. This sister has
mastered filling her days with eating, sleeping, undergoing beauty
treatments, and visiting with her family and friends. Dunia does
not read newspapers, magazines or books, take any exercise, nor
show any interest in the world outside her palace. As the years
have passed, I have noticed that Dunia’s debilitating fatigue comes
earlier and earlier in the day, and her hours of rest have grown
longer and longer. I once feared that Dunia might be mentally
impaired, but it seems that she is not. Quite simply, nothing stirs
Dunia’s lazy mind.
    Still, Dunia is not a bad
person; she has never hurt anyone in her life. Yet, as far as I
know, Dunia, has never helped anyone, either. Of course, we sisters
love her, for no other reason than our beloved mother gave her
life. Although Dunia inherited none of our mother’s wonderful
qualities, she is of our blood. We have no choice but to love
her.
    Nura suddenly stopped and
bent forward to scoop up a handful of desert sand. “Yes. We just
barely escaped the harsh life of the nomad.”
    Dunia tenderly patted her
own face with her hand. “Nura, you will give me wrinkles of worry
with such talk.”
    We all laughed loudly.
Dunia’s lack of passion of any kind, either for or against any
subject, in combination with endless facials, massages, and special
creams, has kept her skin flawless. No wrinkle would dare show on
Dunia’s face!
    Years before, Kareem
privately nicknamed this sister, “The mummy,” saying that nothing
of Dunia’s years on this earth was written on her face.
    Nura grabbed Dunia, hugging
her and kissing her loudly on both cheeks. “Oh! Dunia! You worry
about the possibility of wrinkles?”
    Dunia pursed her lips and
forced a smile. As usual, she could think of no fitting
reply.
    Yes, my dear sister’s mind
must surely be empty, I thought sadly.
    From this point, we walked
in silence until we reached the rise in the desert. Suddenly, the
full splendor of the sand dunes of the Dahna Sands came into full
view. Grain upon grain of endless sand had formed awesome red
mountains of sand; several dunes rose so high that they appeared to
touch the edge of the blue sky. I held my breath in wonder at this
amazing sight.
    My sisters stood quietly,
allowing their senses to respond to the ancient sight of red sand
that shone like copper in the light of the sun. It was humbling to
think that for thousands of years our ancestors have been awed by
the beauty of such a panoramic landscape as we were now so
fortunate to look upon. As we stood enraptured, the absence of
human sounds roared in my ears, and I listened carefully to the
nothingness. When I strained to look in the distance, though, I
thought I saw something moving. I shaded my eyes with my hands.
“Look!” I shouted, as I looked across the sea of sand. “The dunes
are moving!”
    The wind was no more than a
faint breeze, yet the sand appeared to be rolling toward us. I
squinted into the distance. Was this a desert mirage?
    Sara lurched backward in
alarm and at the same moment I realized that it was not sand that
was in motion, but rather a large group of men on camels moving
across the sand toward us! These men were strangers, and we were
vulnerable and alone, at some distance from our protector Asad,
with our faces and hair uncovered! The sound of piercing cries gave
us another shock. Several of the desert travelers had unwound their
ghutras, their red-and-white checkered head coverings, and were now
waving them at us! Obviously, the men were Bedouins who had seen us
and were racing their camels in our direction!
    Greatly alarmed, my sisters
and I yelled for our daughters and young children as we all
scrambled back through the sand toward Asad.
    Tahani screamed in panic
when she stumbled over her long dress and pitched forward on the
ground. Dunia refused to stop and assist her sister; she ran ahead
at exceptional speed, and was soon out of our sight.
    Asad dropped his binoculars
as he ran to meet us. When he saw the source of our fear, he
entreated us to calm down