Princess Sultana's Daughters

of four
million tramping feet.
    Stubborn, and determined to fulfill my
personal desires, as is my way, I challenged Mohammed’s warning,
saying that in my opinion, as a result of the Iranians’ past
violence, those pilgrims traveling from Iran would be so carefully
screened and observed by Saudi Security that they would be of
little danger to Haj worshipers.
    Mohammed, with a stern and uneasy look on his
face, said, “No. The Iranians can never be trusted. Do not let
yourself forget, Sultana, that we are dealing with Shiite fanatics
who dream of overthrowing our Al Sa’ud-led Sunni government!”
    Seeing that my reasoning was not going to
achieve the reassuring response I was seeking, I used a female
tactic, mischievously asking Mohammed and my husband if they failed
to remember that according to Islamic teachings, to die while in
Makkah ensures immediate ascension to heaven?
    My husband and brother-in-law failed to see
any humor in the situation, and my religious argument made little
impact with Kareem, but obviously he too felt the wonderful release
of anxiety that came with Maha’s miraculous recovery even more than
I had imagined.
    Kareem took a deep breath, gave a weak smile,
and said, “Sultana, I will face a thousand dangers if it will give
you peace of mind. Together, we will take our children and go on
the pilgrimage.”
    Mohammed hid a disappointed face with a
smile, and I gave my husband an unexpected kiss on the cheek and
began to pull on his earlobes, promising him that he would never
regret his decision.
    Mohammed looked scandalized at my
affectionate display and made some small excuse to leave the room.
Kareem’s younger sister Hanan, who had been married for some years
to Mohammed, gave us a knowing smile and said that we should ignore
her husband’s prudish facade, that Mohammed was the most loving,
affectionate, and attentive of men behind closed doors.
    I laughed aloud, wondering about their secret
life of sweet sex, for Mohammed had always seemed strict and
standoffish, and in the past I had pitied my sister-in-law.
    I looked at my husband and saw that his face
had reddened at the idea of his sister’s marriage bed. I thought to
myself that our Saudi men are too uptight and unbearably
puritanical when it comes to married passion, even their own.
    Remembering that we were soon going to
Makkah, I kissed my husband again! I was elated!
    Kareem and I invited Sara, Asad, and their
growing brood to accompany our family on our long-awaited religious
odyssey. Sara never failed to do Haj and was immensely pleased that
this year our family would not be traveling abroad during the
religious occasion.
    We made excited plans to depart Riyadh for
Makkah in two days’ time.
    *
    Finally, it was the day of our trip to
Makkah. There was much to be accomplished! Our plan was to meet
Sara and her family at the airport in Riyadh at seven o’clock in
the evening. Prior to that time, each member of the family had to
enter Ihram, which is marked by an all-consuming intention of the
heart to fulfill all the rites of pilgrimage.
    During the time of Ihram, nothing involving
normal life is acceptable. Hair cannot be cut, nails cannot be
trimmed, beards cannot be shaved, perfumes cannot be worn, garments
with seams cannot be worn, animals cannot be killed, sexual
relations must be postponed, and direct contact between men and
women avoided, until the sacred time of Ihram has ended.
    All the members of our family started their
rituals for the pilgrimage before leaving Riyadh. It was important
for each person to enter a state of purity even before the
long-awaited journey began.
    Startling my Filipino maid, Cora, who was
dusting in my bedroom, I entered my private quarters chanting the
famous cry uttered by all pilgrims as they perform the rites while
in the holy city of Makkah, “Here I am, God! Here I am! Here I am
to do your bidding.”
    After Cora recovered herself, I, in a happy
frame of mind, explained the significance of our upcoming religious
journey.
    Cora, a dedicated Catholic, had little
understanding of Muslim traditions, but as a girl of deep religious
convictions, she did appreciate my delight at going on a
pilgrimage.
    I continued to chant my cry to God as a
smiling Cora filled my bath. I counted off on my fingers all the
tasks I had to accomplish. My face had to be cleansed of all
makeup, and I had to take off my jewelry, even the ten-carat
flawless diamond earrings given to me by my husband the