Princess Sultana's Daughters

to do battle with Bedouin raiding
parties or even to travel through Saudi Arabia on foot or riding
lean camels in order to fulfill their fervent desire to perform one
of the basic tenants of Islam, the annual pilgrimage to the holy
city of Makkah, known as Mecca to Westerners, still remains a
chaotic affair. Each year, hundreds of thousands of pilgrims
converge on the cities, airports, and highways of Saudi Arabia for
the rite of pilgrimage during the time of Haj. (Haj begins in Dhu
Al Qida, the eleventh month of the hejira calendar, and ends during
Dhu Al Hijah, the twelfth month of the hejira calendar.)
    I performed the traditional pilgrimage many
times in my youth, as a laughing child in my mother’s arms, and
later as a rebellious girl seeking communication with my God, whom
I prayed would bestow peace of mind on an unhappy child.
    To my great dismay, since Kareem and I wed, I
had not wor- shiped in Makkah during the official time of Haj.
    While Kareem and I, along with our children,
have made the Umrah, or the lesser pilgrimage, which can be made at
any time of year, never had we joined the multitudes in the massive
annual celebration of Haj, a time when Muslims remind themselves of
the lessons of sacrifice, obedience, mercy, and faith, models of
conduct that are required in the Islamic faith.
    Many times over the years, I emphasized to my
husband that our children should experience the moving occasion of
the pilgrimage during the designated time of Haj. Much to my
chagrin, Kareem was forever adamant that our family flee the
pandemonium of Saudi Arabia during the annual pilgrimage, which
brings the largest and most concentrated gathering of human beings
on earth into our country.
    Each time I requested of Kareem the
justification for his non-performance of Haj, my husband would
provide me with a multitude of lame explanations that were heavy
with contradiction.
    Bewildered at his attitude and determined to
get to the heart of the matter, I once purposely entangled Kareem
in the discrepancy of his excuses, trapping him on the issue.
Kareem was groping for a path out of his dilemma when I plainly
told my husband, a man who believes in the God of Mohammed, that it
seemed to me he abhorred the ritual that brings such joy to all
Muslims. There was no other explanation for his bizarre
behavior.
    I crossed my arms across my chest and waited
for his response to this insulting charge, which demanded
refutation.
    Kareem’s face swelled with revulsion at the
accusation so vile to a Muslim! Shocked at such a scandalous idea,
he swore to me that he did not abhor the pilgrimage!
    In the manner all men respond when they are
in the wrong, Kareem then yelled out, “Sultana, you are ugly to my
eyes,” and turned his back on me as if to leave the room, but I ran
around his side and with outstretched arms blocked the door with my
body, demanding more specifics.
    I screamed out that I was displeased with
what I had heard, and that I would wait forever for a compelling
explanation of his annual flight from the Haj. Sensing that Kareem
was in a position of weakness, I became reckless and added a small
lie, saying, “Others have noticed your strange distaste for Haj,
and people are beginning to talk.”
    When Kareem saw that I would not let him pass
without using physical force, he stared down at me and hesitated
for a long moment. I could see that he was examining and weighing
the wisdom of his reply. Making a decision, he pulled me by the arm
and forced me down on the side of the bed by pushing my shoulders
with his hands. He paced for a short time to the balcony doors and
back, and then his defenses fell.
    Kareem confessed in a rush that as a young
man he had once suffered a realistic and terrifying nightmare that
he was crushed to death in a crowd of Hajjis (people of the Muslim
faith who attend Haj).
    I made a sound in my throat. Many baffling
aspects of my husband’s behavior were now clear in my mind. Since
the time I first met him, Kareem had seen crowds where there were
none, interpreting the smallest groups of people as a mass of
humanity. I shook my head at the perplexing intimacies of my
husband’s inner life, which I had never known. So! Kareem was
frightened of the masses of pilgrims!
    Being a strong believer in the powerful
message of dreams, I turned my attention to Kareem’s words; my mood
was grim as I listened to his vivid description of the imaginary
yet frightening experience he had endured while