Jean P Sasson - [Princess 02] (11 page)

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 fulfil 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 en closed 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, our family met with a specially appointed official guide who would lead us through the rituals of Haj and act as our Imam, or minister, during our prayers. Sara and I remained with our daughters, while Kareem and Asad walked away with our sons. All around us other pilgrims called out their prayers to God as we mounted the expansive marble steps of the Holy Mosque. Taking off our shoes at the entrance of the Mosque, we continued to walk and to pray, "God, you are the peace, and from you peace proceeds. O God of ours, greet us with peace."

As the Prophet always moved with the right side of his body, I was careful to enter the white marble courtyard of the Holy Mosque by stepping through the Gate of Peace with my right foot first.

There are seven main gates that open into the immense courtyard, and crowds were surging through each one. On the sides of the Mosque, white marble columns rose high into the air, while elaborately carved minarets towered above the columns. Red silk carpets ran the length of the courtyard, where pilgrims were sitting and reading silently or meditating about God.

The cry of the muezzin rang out, and we were called to prayer. There is a section of the courtyard reserved for women only, but Sara and I, with our daughters, lined up in a row behind the men, who were in the front, joining other Muslims in prayer, rising and falling in the prostrations so familiar to all Muslims the world over.

I felt myself humbled. I am of the royal family, but before the eyes of God, I was at one with all classes of people. All around us were the poorest of God's people, yet they were as rich as I, in the eyes of God. 

When the prayers finished, we streamed forward toward the Kaaba, which is a simple stone structure with a single door that sits six feet off the marble floor. Fifty feet high and thirty-five feet long, the Kaaba is in the center of the sacred Mosque. This is the spot where three millenniums ago, Ibrahim, known as Abraham to Jews and Christians, first dedicated a house of worship to a single God. In the Koran, God says, "The first house of God that was built for people is the one in Makkah."

It is toward this structure that one billion people turn five times each day to bow down and pray.

A huge black velvet cloth embroidered in gold with verses from the Koran was draped over the Kaaba. I knew that at the end of the annual Haj, the cloth would be taken down and replaced by a new cloth that had been woven in a special mill in Makkah. Many pilgrims would pay large sums of money to take home a bit of the beautiful cloth as a memento of their sacred journey to Makkah.

In a corner of the Kaaba is the Black Stone, which is the symbol of Muslim love of God. The Black Stone, framed in silver, had been honored by Prophet Mohammed. The hadith, or sayings and traditions of the Prophet, says that our Prophet kissed the Black Stone as he helped to place it in the Kaaba. For this reason, the stone is particularly sacred to all Muslims.

In our next sacred rite of pilgrimage, the tawwaf, or the circumambulation, people began to walk around the Kaaba.

Keeping the Kaaba on our left, we circle while reciting, "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."

After we completed this ritual, I saw Kareem. He motioned with his head for us to come. We were fortunate, for Kareem had arranged for us to be taken inside the Kaaba to offer additional prayers.

My family and I climbed a portable stair case that had been rolled up to the structure to enter through the door set high above the ground. The door had been inscribed in silver with verses from the Koran. Inside the Kaaba is the most sacred spot in the world for Muslims.

The interior of the Kaaba was very dark, and I prayed in each corner, asking God to keep the devil away from my daughter, Maha, and to bless the other members of my family. In light of the recent Gulf War, I also re quested that God assist Muslims in keeping peace. Not forgetting my main focus in life, I prayed that God would guide the men of Arabia in their interpretation of the teachings of the Prophet, and would release their wives, sisters, and daughters from the bondage wrapped so tightly around us in our daily lives.

I heard the sobbing of a child and, looking through the darkness, witnessed my own daughter Amani 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 Kaaba.

Once we had departed the Kaaba, we walked to the Station of Ibrahim, which is located in the Holy Mosque, and there we per formed two more prostrations. Bowing to God, we acknowledged to ourselves that the ritual of circling the Kaaba was not a worship of that structure but a worship of God, the One and Only One, the Eternal and the Absolute, and that none except God deserves to be worshiped. 

We then left the courtyard of the Holy Mosque to begin our next rituals, which would take place at the Well of Zamzam, and the Mas'a, or the Running Place. This spot is in the plains that surround Makkah.

Once again, Sara and I separated from the male members of our family. Though we would perform the same rituals, we would do so with those of our own sex.

It was in the plains surrounding Makkah that Ibrahim, weary of Sarah's persecution of Hagar, allowed Hagar to leave with his son, Ismail. It was then that Ibrahim left with Sarah and Isaac to travel to Palestine. Christians and Jews know that Ibrahim's descendants in Palestine developed the Jewish faith, while his descendants in Makkah went on to establish the Islamic faith.

Thus, by one great man, Ibrahim, two of the three great monotheistic religions, Judaism and Islam, are joined.

Hagar and Ismail traveled through the desert with nothing more than a bag of dates. Searching desperately for water for her young, Hagar ran between the two hills of Safa and Marwa, seeking a well of water from which she could nourish her child. A miracle happened. The Angel Gabriel replenished a well that had gone dry at the feet of Hagar's son, Ismail. Thus God saved Hagar and her son. This well, which was named Zamzam, still runs clear and fresh.

While Hagar ran over rocky terrain in the boiling sun, we pilgrims run between the hills of Safa and Marwa in an air-conditioned gallery. This convenience was built by the men of my family in order to reduce the number of casualties suffered each year at the Haj. Old, sick, and handicapped pilgrims carried on the shoulders of the faithful used to run seven times between the hills, regardless of the heat. Sun stroke and heart attacks were not uncommon.

There are signs posted in the gallery that tell men when to run and when to walk, while women are instructed to walk. While moving between the hills, pilgrims recite verses from the Koran and chant "God is Great." After seven trips, my daughters and I drank the waters of the Zamzam and sprinkled drops of the liquid on our clothing. The mountain spring is no longer visible, as the waters of the well are now delivered to pilgrims through hundreds of water taps covered with a beautiful 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 completed for the first day of Haj.

We then returned to our palace in Jeddah, which is situated on the waters of the Red Sea. During the drive, in an attempt to put the experience of the trampled men out of our minds, each of us shared our profound experiences of the day. Only Amani was strangely quiet and withdrawn.

I thought to myself that there was something perplexing about my youngest child's demeanor.

The feeling of impending doom would not leave me, and once we were back in our home, I followed Kareem around until I could focus my thoughts and articulate what was in my heart and on my mind. 

I accompanied him from the entrance hall to our bed room and out onto the balcony, then back into the bedroom and into his library.

An abyss divided our moods.

Looking at me in exasperation, Kareem finally asked, "Sultana, what can I do for you?"