Princess Sultana's Daughters

gentle
smile of forgiveness, and I knew that my dearest sister knew my
thoughts and forgave me my transgression.
    Struck by the memory of an apt proverb,
“ Only our own eyes will cry for us ,” I was saddened at my
family’s ability to discard the memory of those who had come before
us. I cried out in a forceful voice, “Those who seem dead to you
are alive to me!”
    My family looked at me in astonishment, all
except for Kareem, who failed to control a fit of laughter. I
glared at him as he wiped his wet eyes with a tissue and mumbled
something to Asad that I tried to hear but could not, regarding the
woman he had wed.
    To calm my emotions, I turned my attention to
my two daughters, and saw that they, at least, had heard something
of what I had said.
    Maha, preferring Europe and America over
anything Saudi Arabian, was of little comfort. She had ignored my
boastful commentary on our family history, and now began to
complain bitterly about the terminal, dismayed that anyone would
have designed an airport terminal as a tent!
    “Why dig up the past?” she muttered with a
tinge of dismay in her voice. “It is the twentieth century,
you know.”
    Amani, though, was entranced by the
spotlights mounted on the support pylons. They gave an amazing view
of the striking engineering wonder, and she gave a squeal of
delight.
    Showing off his familiarity with the
terminal, Abdullah glanced at his youngest sister and casually
remarked that at the present time the fabric roof of the tent
covered the world’s largest space, though there were plans in
motion to cover a larger space in the city of Madinah.
    Amani, my most sensitive child, squeezed my
hand and smiled sweetly, saying, “Mummy, thanks for bringing us
here.”
    I gave my daughter a happy look. All was not
lost! Who could have known that a journey made with such virtuous
thought and the desire to praise God for the return of my eldest
daughter’s lucidity would have long-lasting significance for my
youngest child, Amani, and enduringly disastrous consequences for
her mother and father?
     

 
Amani
    “ Makkah, ‘the blessed’, known as Umm Al
Qurrah, ‘Mother of Cities’, is the spot toward which every believer
faces five times a day in prayer. For millions of Muslims, it is
the goal of a lifetime to travel to Makkah for Haj. The city is
strictly banned to non-Muslims, but nonbelievers feel the keen
disappointment of what they are missing and want to know what lies
within. As a Saudi, I have been personally selected by God to
protect the true faith that got its start in the holiest city in
the world that is located in my country.”
    —The explanation given to the author by an
elderly Saudi Bedouin of why Saudi Arabians are the chosen people
of God.
    During the joyous occasion of Amani’s birth,
my sister Sara joined me in the pangs of delivery, giving birth to
her second child, a daughter whom she and her husband, Asad, gave
the name Nashwa, meaning ecstasy. While Amani has brought bliss
into our lives, Nashwa is a loud and obnoxious girl, and has often
introduced havoc into Sara and Asad’s happy home.
    Many times I have secretly questioned Kareem
about the fearful possibility that Amani was the true child of Sara
and Asad, while Nashwa was of our blood, for Nashwa’s character is
remarkably similar to mine. Amani, moreover, bears a startling
resemblance to her Auntie Sara, whom she favors in both lovely
countenance and calm spirit.
    Could the staff at the hospital have
accidentally mistaken our two daughters? Our children were born
eleven hours apart, but Sara and I occupied adjoining royal suites.
Infant confusion seemed likely to my mind. Many times over the
years, Kareem has attempted to push away my fears, quoting
meaningless statistics showing that such mix-ups rarely occur, but
each time I gaze on my perfect child, I dread the thought that she
belongs to another.
    Amani, an absorbed and melancholy spirit,
always treasured books more than toys, and from an early age was an
enthusiastic student of art and language. Unlike her older sister
Maha, Amani, for the most part, created little turbulence and
instead generated tranquility and affection in our home.
    While Amani’s sensitive soul had penetrated
more deeply into my heart than that of her two older siblings, I
nevertheless should have been alerted to the shadowed tenacity in
her complex temperament. My daughter’s alarming penchant for
animals caused open conflict with other members of our