Princess Sultana's Daughters

year
before, which I rarely removed from my pierced ears.
    After removing my earrings and placing them
in the large bedroom safe that holds my collection of precious
jewels, I submerged myself for hours in a hot tub, to symbolically
cleanse myself of any impurities. While soaking, I prepared myself
for the journey by repeating aloud God’s command to Muslims to
visit Makkah, “And proclaim among men the pilgrimage, they will
come to you on foot and on every lean camel, coming from every deep
ravine.” I put aside any and every thought of my family and myself,
concentrating instead on things of peace and feelings of love for
my fellow man.
    After my long bath, I wrapped myself in a
seamless black garment and covered my hair with a lightweight black
scarf. Facing the holy city of Makkah, I prostrated myself on the
bed- room floor and performed my prayers, appealing to God to
accept the rites of Haj from me.
    Finally, I was prepared for my journey.
    I met my husband and children in the sitting
room downstairs. Kareem and Abdullah were immaculate in white
seamless robes and plain sandals. Maha and Amani were dressed in
modest, dark- colored garments that covered all flesh except their
faces, feet, and hands. They, as I, were unveiled. “The true veil
is in the eyes of men,” runs a saying of the Prophet. Thus, women
on pilgrimage are forbidden to cover their faces while on Haj.
    As a child, I often asked my mother about the
strange necessity of covering her face before man but not before
God. My mother, reared never to question the authority of men,
appeared baffled and confused at the sane logic put forth by her
inquiring daughter, but having spent a lifetime under the rigid
jurisdiction of men, she hushed me and made no answer to what I
believe is still a justifiable question.
    Now, looking at my daughters’ faces in all
their innocence, the memory came flowing into my mind.
    I hugged each of my daughters and said in an
irritated tone, “When man comes to share God’s wisdom, you can
discard the veils you so hate!” I could not help tossing a glance
of contempt at my husband and son.
    Kareem moaned, “Sultana,” admonishing me for
what I had done!
    I was struck with the horrible thought that I
had broken my Haj vow! I had lapsed into a moment of discord,
thinking of worldly concerns, when I must rejoice in topics of
peace and love.
    Embarrassed at my indiscretion, I left the
room in a rush, explaining that I must perform my rituals once
again.
    Kareem was smiling, and my children began to
laugh, as they seated themselves on chairs and sofas, patiently
awaiting my return.
    I prostrated myself on the bedroom floor,
asking God to quiet my tongue and assist me in entering Ihram once
again.
    While I was praying, sad thoughts of my
mother once again crept into my mind, and angry images of my father
played across my eyes, ending the tranquility so necessary for
entering Ihram. With a frown, I began my prayers again, from the
very beginning.
    I was on the verge of tears when I rejoined
my family, and my husband gave me a tender look of love, which I
mistook for a sexual thought. I shouted at Kareem, and then burst
into tears, declaring that I could not go to Haj, that my family
would have to leave without me, for I could not quiet my active and
spiteful mind in order to enter the state of Ihram!
    Kareem gave a nod to my daughters, for our
flesh was forbidden contact, and Maha and Amani laughingly pushed
me from the room into the waiting car. We were going to the
airport.
    Kareem quieted my protests by saying that I
could go through my rituals once again on the airplane, or at our
home in Jeddah before we made the short drive the following morning
to Makkah.
    *
    Asad, Sara, and their children were waiting
for us at the royal waiting lounge at the King Khalid International
Airport, which is a forty-five-minute drive out of the city of
Riyadh.
    I greeted my sister and her family with
strained silence, and after Maha whispered in my sister’s ear, Sara
gave a knowing smile that told me she understood our delay.
    Our family traveled in one of Kareem’s
private Lear jets to Jeddah. It was a quiet journey, the adults
thinking of God and their planned communication with him. The older
children played quiet games, while the younger ones slept or looked
through books.
    Respectful of my inability to control my
tongue, I spoke not a word until moments before we landed, and then
I spoke too much.
    It was night when we arrived