Princess Sultana's Circle

hostile to females.
    For some years now, I have
seen my life spread out before me as though it were already
written. I do not like what I know will come to be: my wealth will
multiply and my possessions will increase, but at the same time my
happiness and contentment will decrease. An uneasiness with the
pattern of my daily life created a problem with alcohol that led me
into a listless life where I foolishly squandered my prospects for
achieving my life-long goal of assisting women in need. The fact
that these handicaps were self-imposed undermined my feelings of
worthiness. The Sultana of an earlier time, who once dreamed of a
glorious destiny, had become an apathetic soul, miserable and
lost.
    Miraculously, I was now
given this new understanding that the pattern of my life must now
change: my beloved mother’s coming to me in dreams, the effect of
Munira’s plaintive poem, even my brother Ali’s near-death
experience—each contributed to my new perspective. I will always
believe that God Himself masterfully arranged these happenings with
the clear purpose of bringing forth the magical metamorphosis that
I experienced that day in the desert. For one who believes in the
power of Almighty God, there can be no other
explanation.
    Although in that instant my
life became even more complicated, I have no regrets. Had my
dramatic transition not occurred, I know that I would have remained
mired in a restless unhappiness. More importantly, a young
Pakistani woman by the name of Veena would have continued to live
in brutal sexual bondage.
    “ Never again,” I told Sara
as we walked back into camp. “Never again will I remain silent in
the face of cruelty and maltreatment to any woman.”
    Sara nodded grimly. She
understood.
    Just at that moment I saw
Dunia’s youngest son, Shadi, step out from a vehicle and begin to
greet his uncles and cousins with great enthusiasm.
    “ Shadi has arrived,” Sara
softly murmured.
    “ Dunia is sure to be
happy,” I replied with a smile.
    Shadi is a tall, heavily
built young man of twenty who does not present a particularly
attractive appearance. Any personal knowledge I had of this nephew
was slight, though, for we saw each other only at large family
events.
    I now vaguely recalled
Dunia’s mentioning earlier that Shadi would be late in joining his
family on this desert journey. Already Dunia had been proud to
announce that Shadi was her most brilliant son, and that his
expertise in business dealings far surpassed every other young man
in the Al Sa’ud family. In fact, Dunia smugly confided to all who
would listen, Shadi owned several joint business interests in
Pakistan, and was just coming back from a trip to that country to
purchase even more businesses. My sisters and I had not taken
personal offense at thoughtless words, even though they were an
insult to our own beloved sons.
    At that moment, Sara and I
did not go forward to greet Shadi since he was already surrounded
by his uncles and eager young male cousins. We would welcome the
young man later, we decided, as we walked toward our own
tents.
    I was not particularly
surprised to see a young woman in Pakistani clothes sitting in the
back seat of Shadi’s vehicle; our men frequently drive our female
servants from one place to another. I assumed the young woman was
one of my sister’s maids, being transported to our desert site at
Dunia’s request.
    When I returned to my tent,
I was told by my own maid, Libby, that Kareem, worried when he
found our bed empty, had sent her to look for me. After she had
assured him that I was safe in the company of Sara, Kareem had
taken our daughters on a final camel ride in the desert.
    I gratefully took this time
to indulge myself in a leisurely bath. Bathing in the desert was no
hardship, for our bathrooms were equipped with a small toilet, tiny
sink, and a large bathtub. During the daylight hours, the desert
sun heated the water in large tanks located outside our
tents.
    After Libby had filled the
tub with warm water, I soaked for a short time before attempting to
wash the sand from my hair. Afterward, I prepared myself for what I
hoped would be a pleasant last day and night in the desert. I
dressed in an ankle-length cotton dress before placing my prayer
rug on the carpeted floor of the tent.
    After kneeling toward
Makkah, I prayed to God that He would maintain my life on a
straight course of correct behavior. My heart and mind then became
more peaceful, for I had great hope that I