Princess Sultana's Daughters

clamor for adjustments
in an unfair world.
    Longing for unaccustomed peace in a household
of three lively children, I welcomed the idea of the peaceful
family life that Kareem promised would come, now that Amani would
surely get over her love affair with the world of animals.
    Shortly afterward, the Gulf War began,
followed by the culmination of Maha’s mental instability. During
this stressful period, a stymied and solitary Amani had no one to
help her search for a more fitting, fresh objective in life.
    Now, retracing Amani’s pattern of obsession
with causes that held her interest, I, a woman schooled in
philosophy, which is the critical study of fundamental beliefs,
should have recognized that my youngest child possessed the traits
often connected with those we deem fanatics, frightening people who
eagerly embrace extremist convictions.
    Perceiving the resolute earnestness of my
daughter, I now reproach myself for initiating an impressionable
and mentally confused child into that most religious occasion, Haj.
For Amani was only fourteen years old, the time of maximum
adolescent upheaval.
    During our pilgrimage to Makkah, by one of
the strangest transformations in our family history, Kareem and I
observed our daughter Amani emerge almost overnight from her
dormant religious faith and embrace Islamic beliefs with unnerving
intensity. I was nothing more than a mother tending her child,
offering her the foundation of her heritage, but it was as if
Amani’s mind were caught by a higher vision, a secret that was in
herself, too intimate to reveal to her mother or father.
    The morning after our arrival in Jeddah, we
made the short drive in an air-conditioned limousine from that Red
Sea city to the holiest city of Islam, the city of the Prophet
Mohammed, Makkah. I was thrilled to find myself at the Haj with my
most beloved family members in attendance. I tried to concentrate
on my prayers but found myself peering out the car window, thinking
of ancient times when enormous numbers of the faithful had come by
camel caravan or trekked barefoot over rugged and rocky terrain in
the eager quest to fulfill one of the five pillars of the Islamic
faith.
    I wanted desperately to share my thoughts
with Kareem and my children, but I saw that each of them was busy
contemplating God and his or her relationship with Him. Maha’s eyes
were closed, while Abdullah was fingering his prayer beads. Kareem
seemed glassy-eyed, and I hoped he was not reliving his youthful
nightmare of being trampled to death on this day. I leaned close
and stared, but my husband studiously avoided my eyes. Amani was
caught up in her own solitary meditations, and I thought that my
daughter’s face seemed afire.
    Satisfied, I smiled and patted her hand,
thinking that I had accomplished much good in bringing my family
together for the holy event.
    Soon we arrived in the city, which is
enclosed by the Valley of Abraham and surrounded by mountain ranges
to the east, west, and south. Makkah is set in a rugged landscape
that consists mainly of solid granite, but the ancient city is the
most beautiful of sights to all Muslims.
    I chanted, “Here I am, O God! Here I am!”
Outside the Holy Mosque of Makkah, a specially appointed official
guide greeted us. He would be our Imam, or minister, during our
prayers. Sara and I remained with our daughters, while Kareem and
Asad walked away with our sons. As we climbed the marble steps of
the Holy Mosque, we could hear other worshippers praying. As
everyone did, we slipped off our shoes before entering the
mosque.
    All Muslims know that the Prophet always
moved with the right side of his body, therefore I carefully
entered the courtyard of the Holy Mosque by stepping through the
Gate of Peace with my right foot first.
    Crowds were rushing through all seven gates
that open into the Mosque courtyard. There were many pilgrims
sitting in the area, most were reading quietly.
    That’s when the call to prayer was heard.
Sara and I, with our daughters, lined up in a row behind the men to
give our prayers. Although I am of the royal family, I know that in
the eyes of God, I am the same as the poorest Muslim. As soon as
our prayers were completed, we walked toward the Kaaba. The Kaaba
is located in the centre of the Mosque. Our Koran tells us that
“The first house of God that was built for people is the one in
Makkah. In a corner of the Kaaba is the Black Stone. The Black
Stone had been honored by Prophet Mohammed. We are taught