Princess Sultana's Daughters

became a gloomy recluse.
     

 
Extremist
    My deepest fears were realized. Let us
imagine a desert country lying in absolute darkness with many
living things swarming blindly about in it.
    —BUDDHA
    Haj was completed and summer was upon us. The
hot desert air had disturbed us little during our pilgrimage to
Makkah, for our minds were on other, more important matters
connected to our spiritual oneness with God.
    From Makkah we traveled to our palace in
Jeddah, thinking to return to Riyadh the following day. It was not
to be. While I was organizing the palace staff for our departure,
Kareem entered the room and said that he had canceled our flight,
for he had been informed by the air traffic controllers that there
was a particularly turbulent sandstorm moving from the Rub Al Khali
desert toward the city of Riyadh. Even without the effects of a
sandstorm, nearly four thousand tons of sand routinely settle on
Riyadh every month. Wanting to avoid the terrible sandstorm that
would soon assault our capital, dumping sand that stings the eyes,
fills the pores, and covers everything, I was pleased that we would
remain in Jeddah despite the fact that Jeddah’s humidity is more
oppressive than the dry desert heat of Riyadh.
    Abdullah and Maha were excited to be
postponing our return to Riyadh and their normal routines for a few
more days. Our two eldest children began to plead with us to take a
small holiday while in Jeddah. I looked at my husband and smiled.
But the smile faded from my face when I noticed that Amani was
sitting off to herself in the corner of the room, her nose in the
pages of the Koran. Amani was quickly becoming a gloomy recluse and
seemed unconcerned as to where she might be. It appeared to me that
my youngest child had raised barriers against her normal desire for
harmless fun, for in the past nothing thrilled Amani more than to
swim in the lapping, warm waters of the Red Sea.
    Determined to avoid becoming even further
depressed by Amani’s activities, I nodded my head, yes, in response
to Kareem’s questioning eyes. So, in spite of the humidity and the
heat waves that were dancing in the air, Kareem and I decided to
remain in Jeddah an additional two weeks, for we could see that our
two eldest children were sorely tempted by the blue mirror of the
Red Sea waters, which we could view from our palace walls.
    I was not displeased at the idea, for I, like
many members of the royal family, prefer the lively port city of
Jeddah to the staid atmosphere of Riyadh. Thinking that I would
take my daughters shopping in the modern shopping malls of Jeddah
and entertain family friends who lived in the city, the holiday
loomed pleasantly in my mind. Had not Amani chosen this time to
expand the growing gap between herself and her family, it would
have been a perfect time in an otherwise imperfect life.
    *
    I was down on my knees in the long corridor
that connected the various wings of the palace when Maha made the
discovery that her mother was attempting to overhear the voice of
her sister, Amani, through a crack in the doorway leading into the
Turkish baths and indoor garden area.
    “Mummy! What are you doing?” Maha called out
in a loud, laughing voice, even as I tried to wave her away with my
hand.
    Inside the room, Amani stopped speaking, and
I heard my daughter’s determined footsteps as she made her way
toward me. I made a desperate attempt to spring to my feet so that
I could move away from the door, but my pointed shoe heel caught in
the hem of my long dress. I was struggling to free myself when
Amani flung the door open and stood staring down at her obviously
guilty mother.
    I was unnerved by my daughter’s accusing
face, for her piercing eyes and tight lips made it plain that she
clearly understood the situation.
    Unable to acknowledge my despicable deed, I
began to rub my fingers against some red threads that were worked
into the hall carpet, and with what I hoped was a lilt to my voice,
I began to lie with the intensity of one who knows her listeners
see through her lie.
    “Amani! I thought you were in your room!” I
exclaimed. I returned my gaze to the carpet, seriously studying the
red threads. “Darlings, have either of you noticed the red stains
on this carpet?”
    Neither of my daughters responded.
    With a frown, I gave the red threads a few
more rubs, and with my shoe heel still caught in my dress, I stood
up hunched over and limped down the corridor. Short on explanation,
I mumbled, “The