Princess Sultana's Daughters

change.
    In spite of the difficulties, the bulk of
Saudi citizens support King Fahd. It is only the religious
fundamentalists who call for his downfall. To the remainder of
Saudi citizens, he is known as a man of generosity and good
cheer.
    And, I remind myself, the women of our family
know the king is well loved by his wives, and who knows a man
better than his wives?
    While King Fahd rules with a milder hand than
did his father and his three brothers, it does not require the
wisdom of a sage to know that Princess, the book that tells the
story of my life, will be viewed as a slap in the face to the man
who rules my country.
    That, alone, I regret. I bluntly admonish
myself that I, under no duress, made the decision to break the
precedent of generations by flinging family secrets to the wind.
Now, for the first time, I wonder if I acted with passion rather
than wisdom; perhaps my earnestness and enthusiasm led me to
overestimate my capacity for intrigue.
    In an attempt to soothe my conscience and
calm my fears, I vividly recall the intensity of my anger with the
men of my family, the rulers of Saudi Arabia, who appeared so
oblivious to the suffering of the women in the land they ruled.
     

Unveiled
    Despair weakens our sight and closes our
ears. We can see nothing but specters of doom, and can hear only
the beating of our agitated hearts.
    —KAHIL GIBRAN
    It is October of 1992, and I, Sultana Al
Sa’ud, the princess featured in a tell-all book, follow the days of
the calendar with a mixture of feverish excitement and morose
depression. The book that exposed the life of women behind the veil
was released in the United States in September. Since its
publication, I carry with me a somber presentiment of my doom,
feeling as though I were precariously suspended in space, for I am
aware that no deed great or small, bad or good, can be without
effect.
    While taking a deep breath, I hopefully
remind myself that I am likely to be safe in the anonymity of the
extended Al Sa’ud family. Still, my trusty instincts warn me that I
have been discovered.
    Just as I conquer my conflicting guilt and
fear, my husband, Kareem, enters our home in a rush, shouting out
that my brother, Ali, has returned early from his trip to Europe
and that my father has called an urgent family meeting at his
palace. With black eyes glaring in a pale face marked with blotches
of fiery red, my husband looks madder than a mad dog.
    I am struck with a horrifying thought. Kareem
has been told of the book!
    Imagining suffocating confinement in a
subterranean dungeon, deprived of my beloved children, I surrender
to my agitation for a moment, and in a thin, high voice that bears
no similarity to my own, I implore, “What has happened?”
    Kareem shrugs his shoulders, answering, “Who
can know?” His nostrils flare with irritation when he remembers, “I
informed your father that I have an important appointment in Zurich
tomorrow, that you and I could see him when I return, but he was
adamant that I cancel my plans and escort you to his home this
evening.”
    Like a windswept figure, Kareem charges into
his office, exclaiming, “Three meetings have to be canceled!”
    Weak-kneed, I collapse on the sofa with
relief, thinking that all conclusions are premature. Kareem’s anger
has nothing to do with me! My courage flickers hopefully.
    Still, the threat of discovery persists, and
I have many long hours before the unexpected family meeting.
    *
    Feigning a gaiety I do not feel, I smile and
chat as Kareem and I walk through the wide entrance hall, over the
thick Persian carpets, into an enormous and grand sitting room in
my father’s newly constructed palace. Father has not yet arrived,
but I see that Kareem and I are the last of the family to make an
appearance. The other ten living children of my mother, without
their spouses, have also been summoned to my father’s home. I know
that three of my sisters had to fly into Riyadh from Jeddah, while
another two sisters flew in from Taif. Looking around the room, I
verify that Kareem is the only outside member of the family
present. Even Father’s head wife and her children are nowhere to be
seen. I surmise that they have been dismissed from the
premises.
    The urgency of the meeting leads me back to
the book, and my chest tightens from fear. My sister Sara and I
exchange worried glances. As the only member of my family aware of
the book’s publication, her thoughts seem the same as mine. Each of
my siblings