Princess Sultana's Daughters

that
Prophet Mohammed helped to place it in the Kaaba.
    That’s when my sister and I, along with our
daughters, began to walk around the Kaaba. It is imperative to keep
the Kaaba to our left as we chant, “God is most Great. O God, grant
us good in this work and good in the hereafter, and protect us from
the torment of the fires in hell.”
    Much to my surprise I saw that Amani was
weeping. Through her cries, I heard her ask God to assist her in
divorcing herself from the world of royal luxuries, to help her be
better equipped to stamp out human wickedness. She pleaded with God
to swallow up all the sins of mankind and to cure the ills of the
world. Amani was having a religious experience. Her eyes were red,
but she ignored my touch of love, tenderly given as we left the
area to continue our walk to the Station of Ibrahim, which is also
located in the Holy Mosque. I watched Amani even as I performed
further prostrations.
    Soon we left to walk to the Well of Zamzam,
and the Mas’a, or what is known as the Running Place. My family has
built an air-conditioned gallery so that pilgrims would not suffer
sunstroke in the hot Saudi desert. Although men run, women walk. I
drank the waters of the Zamzam from a water tap covered by a marble
vault. Just as we were about to depart the waters of Zamzam, we
heard a loud commotion sweeping through the crowd of pilgrims.
    Curious, I walked toward a group of Muslim
women from Indonesia and asked them in the English language if they
knew the source of the excitement.
    One of them replied, “Yes!” Three men had
fallen and been trampled upon, and they had heard that two of the
men had died! I could not catch my breath! I could think of nothing
but my husband! Kareem! Had his nightmare come true, after all?
    I ran back to my sister and our daughters, my
eyes wild with terror, my incoherent words making no sense. Sara
grabbed my shoulders and demanded to know what was the trouble.
    “Kareem! I have heard some men have been
trampled. I fear for Kareem’s life!”
    Thinking that I had seen his body, my
daughters began to moan, and Sara raised her voice, demanding to
know why I thought one of the dead men might be Kareem.
    I told Sara, “A dream! Kareem suffered a
dream that he would be crushed at Haj! Now, some men have been
trampled to death in the area where he was last seen.”
    Sara, like me, has learned there is much in
life that is not for our understanding, that unexplained forces
move through our lives. She was concerned, though not yet as
hysterical as I.
    Just as we were about to split into three
groups to search for our men, we saw that two stretchers with
bodies covered in white sheets were being carried through the
crowd. I ran as fast as I could and, screaming, ripped the sheets
from the bodies of the dead, first one and then the other.
    The four hospital workers from Makkah stood
frozen to the spot, not knowing what to expect next from this woman
who was clearly deranged.
    Neither of the dead men was Kareem! Both were
old, and it was easy to see how they could have been pushed to
their deaths.
    I held the sheet in my hand and stood over
the body of one man, crying out in great relief that I did not know
him. I was standing in that position just as Kareem, Asad, and our
sons followed the sounds of the shouting women to see what calamity
had occurred.
    Kareem could not believe his eyes! His wife
was laughing with joy at the sight of a man dead! He pushed through
the crowd and caught me by my wrists, pulling me from the
scene.
    “Sultana! Have you gone quite mad?” Sara
quickly explained what I had feared, and Kareem’s angry look
softened. Embarrassed, he had to explain the fearful nightmare he
had described to his wife.
    The atmosphere was electric with emotion. The
crowd began to mumble and look menacingly in my direction, as the
wives of the two dead men realized their tragedy and learned that I
had laughed like a hyena at the deaths of their husbands.
    We hurriedly left the area, while Asad
revealed our identity to some guards. With the protection of the
guards, Asad gave a gift of SR 3,000 to each of the families and
told them we were of the royal family. He quickly explained my fear
of Kareem’s dream and pacified the angry crowd.
    After we escaped the scene, my family began
to laugh nervously, and later, as time erased the shame of my
conduct, the situation became a hilarious event that has
entertained them on more than one occasion.
    *
    Our rituals were