Princess Sultana's Daughters

Aisha.
    Forbidden fruit is too tempting for all
children, regardless of their nationality or sex.
    *
    During the height of the Gulf War, our king
harnessed the most aggressive of the roving bands of morals police,
forbidding them to harass Western visitors to our land. Quite
sensibly, the men of our family knew it would not do for
journalists from the West to view life as it really is in our
country. Happily, the women of Saudi Arabia benefited from this
royal order. The absence of sharp-eyed religious police patrolling
the cities of Saudi Arabia, searching for uncovered women to strike
with their sticks, or spray with red paint, was too good to be
true. This policy endured no longer than the war itself, but for a
few months we Saudi women enjoyed a welcome respite from probing
eyes. During this heady period, here was a universal call for the
women of Saudi Arabia to take their proper place in society, and we
foolishly thought that the favorable situation would continue
forever.
    For some of our women, too much freedom given
too quickly proved disastrous. Our men were disappointed that all
women did not behave as saints, without understanding the confusion
caused by the contradictions in our lives.
    Now I know that Aisha and Maha were two Saudi
girls not yet psychologically prepared for unfamiliar and complete
freedom.
    Because of the unusual times brought about by
war, Aisha managed to have herself appointed a volunteer at one of
the local hospitals, and nothing would do but for my daughter to
seek the same appointment at that institution. This she did two
days a week after her school day ended. It was a marvelous
experience for Maha, for although she was forced to wear her abaaya
and head scarf, she was not required to wear the hated veil once
she was inside the hospital doors.
    When the war ended, Maha refused to go back
to the old ways. She held tight to her newfound freedom and begged
her father and me to allow her to continue her work at the
hospital.
    Our approval was reluctantly given. One
afternoon when Maha was expected at the hospital, our driver was
waiting in the front drive. I decided to go and hurry her along. By
some whim of circumstance, I happened to enter Maha’s room just as
my daughter was putting a small caliber pistol into a brown leather
holster strapped to her upper leg.
    I was struck dumb! A weapon! Kareem happened
to be home for the afternoon siesta, and upon hearing our raised
voices, he came to investigate. After an emotional scene, Maha
confessed that during the war, she and Aisha had begun to arm
themselves, in the event that the Iraqi army broke through to
Riyadh! Now that the war was over, she thought she might need
protection from the morals police, who had begun to threaten women
in the street.
    The “morals” or “religious police,” sometimes
called the mutawwa, are members of the “Committee for Enforcing the
Right and Forbidding the Wrong.” Now that the foreign journalists
had departed the kingdom at the end of the Gulf War, these zealots
were more active than we could ever recall, initiating arrests and
prosecutions against women in my country.
    Maha and Aisha had decided they would not
endure the atten- tions of these zealots let loose upon innocent
women.
    I looked at my daughter in alarm and
disbelief! Was she planning to fire upon a man of religion?
    Kareem learned that the weapon belonged to
Aisha’s father. He, like many Arab men, had quite a collection of
firearms and had not missed the two pistols his daughter and Maha
had stolen.
    Imagine our horror when we learned that the
pistol was loaded and that it had no safety feature. Maha tearfully
confessed that she and Aisha had practiced firing the pistols in a
vacant lot at the back of Aisha’s home!
    To Maha’s dismay, her enraged father
confiscated the illegal weapon and bundled her into his Mercedes.
Dismissing his driver, Kareem drove like a madman across the city
of Riyadh to the home of Aisha in order to return the gun and warn
Aisha’s parents of our children’s dangerous activities.
    The result of our bizarre discovery was a
hasty conference called between ourselves and Aisha’s parents. Both
our daughters were sent to Aisha’s room.
    Aisha’s mother and I, covered still by our
black veils, sat in our world of separations and discussed the
children we had brought into the world. Oddly enough, for once in
my life I was pleased to be veiled, for I could stare in
undisguised contempt at Aisha’s