Kidnapped by the Sheikh (2 page)

“Don’t worry, Lady Bolton. I will treat you as my honoured guest. Please see this as an excursion into a part of Yazan that few foreigners ever have the opportunity to visit.”

She hoped that as long as he thought that she was the ambassador’s wife, she would be safe. However, she wasn’t Lady Amanda Bolton; she was Dr. Sarah Greenwich from the Women’s Hospital in the capital. As they started out on the long drive through the desert to the wastelands of Sakara, she wondered what would happen to her when Sheikh Akbar found out.

“Please, step this way.” The sheikh led her towards a large group of tents made of coarse black camel hair in the middle of a vast expanse of desert. Tethered next to the tents were a group of camels and several fine-looking horses. Sarah knew how to ride a horse, but even if she managed to get hold of one, or the keys to the Jeep, she had no idea where she was, or how to get back to the city.

They had been travelling for more than three hours through the desert and after the first thirty minutes, the sheikh had driven the Jeep off the road and headed out across an empty expanse of land. Initially, Sarah had tried hard to focus on possible landmarks so she could orientate herself and work out where she was. However, after the first hour, she became completely lost and knew that she would never be able to find her way back again on her own without a guide. As she stepped out of the Jeep, she knew that she was walking into what would be her new home for the foreseeable future, or at least until the embassy or the Women’s Hospital managed to negotiate her release.

As well as being scared, Sarah was also exhausted. Without air conditioning in the Jeep, hot dusty air had blown through the windows so that she was now covered in a fine layer of sand. She desperately wanted a shower, but there was no sign of even the most basic sanitary provisions in this Bedouin encampment. However, near the camels was a long bank of palm trees. Their leaves looked like clusters of needles stabbing the bright white sky around them. Sarah wondered whether there was some kind of well or pool of water behind them.

“As my honoured guest, you will stay here.” The sheikh gestured towards one of the larger tents. “Girl, come!” he called out.

A woman came rushing out of one of the tents. She was almost fully veiled, but Sarah could see her eyes and guessed that she was a teenager, or a young woman. The woman bowed down in front of the sheikh and kept her eyes focused on the ground. He spoke to her for several minutes, but he was so quiet that Sarah couldn’t hear what he was saying. He then turned to Sarah and said, “Lady Amanda, this is my niece. She will look after you. If you need anything, please tell her.” He touched his forehead and then his broad chest to salaam Sarah, before walking off in the opposite direction.

Sarah followed the woman into her tent. It was hung with heavy tapestries and on the floor were ornate carpets. Sarah had been in the country long enough and knew enough about Arab culture to remove her shoes before walking in. Her feet were covered in dirt from the journey; however, an older woman, possibly of African descent, came forward with a bowl of water. She gestured to Sarah to sit so she could wash her feet. Once the serving woman had finished, the sheikh’s niece invited her into the heart of the tent for some food.

Sarah hadn’t eaten since breakfast and didn’t realise how hungry she was until she saw the spread that was laid out in front of her, which consisted of feta cheese, freshly baked flat bread, hummus, and tabouleh, a finely chopped salad of parsley garnished with tomatoes. She knew that if she was going to get through her stay here, she had to eat and keep up her strength.

Once she finished, Sarah sat back on one of the heavily embroidered cushions and drank a glass of very sweet mint tea. The African woman cleared away some of the dishes and went outside with them. The other woman, the sheikh’s niece who had brought her into the tent, sat silently in the corner. She had taken off her face veil and Sarah could see that her estimation of the girl’s age was correct. She was an attractive teenage girl with thick black hair and soft, delicate features. Sarah tried to talk to her.

“Thank you for the food. My name is Sa—” Sarah stopped just in time and corrected her error. “My name is Lady Amanda Bolton. Can I ask you your name?”

“My name is Minna. I am the daughter of Sheikh Omar Al-Zafir,” she replied, looking up for the first time. The girl was obviously proud of her lineage, so Sarah tried to look suitably impressed.

“It is a pleasure to meet you, Minna. I hope that God blesses you and your family,” Sarah said, trying to observe Arabic etiquette. It was possible that she would be there several weeks until the British Embassy negotiated her release and there was no point in alienating this girl, who probably had nothing to do with her capture.

“God has cursed my family,” Minna said.

This wasn’t the reply that Sarah had been expecting at all. “Why do you say that?” she asked.

“My mother died before she could bear any sons and then my father died last month, leaving me alone.”

“But you have Sheikh Akbar to look after you, don’t you?” Sarah knew that in a country like Yazan, a woman without a family was extremely vulnerable. Hopefully, this girl’s relatives had not exploited her situation.

“Yes. I am very lucky. He is my father’s brother and he is now the leader of our people. I don’t have any parents, but he has honoured my father’s wishes and arranged for me to be married.”

“That’s good. I hope you’ll be blessed with many children,” Sarah replied, trying to observe the girl’s cultural customs. “Do you have a wedding date yet?” she asked.

“Yes, I’m to be married in a few weeks. That’s why you’re here. Your ransom will pay for my wedding. My uncle is a good man. He has promised me that he’ll honour the bride price my father agreed to before he died.”

So that was why they’d kidnapped Sarah, or rather, the British ambassador’s wife; they needed money to pay for a wedding. She wondered how much they were thinking of asking for as a ransom—probably several thousand dollars. Although the embassy wouldn’t agree to pay it, the hospital where she worked would, and then she would be free. Until then, as long as they thought she was the ambassador’s wife, she hoped she would be safe and they would treat her well.Sarah tried to remind herself that this was not a terrorist attack, but an age-old tradition of capture and release that had probably been practised in this region for hundreds of years. All she had to do was play along with the game until the hospital gave the necessary money to the sheikh.

“Please, have some more tea,” Minna offered.

The African woman, who seemed to be Minna’s servant, poured out more tea. At least Sarah presumed that the woman was a servant; she might be a slave. Slavery was only abolished in the 1960s in the Arabian Peninsula, but it continued for much longer in some of the more remote parts, such as the area where Sarah now was. She asked the woman her name. Both the woman and Minna looked shocked. Sarah guessed that they were surprised that she had spoken directly to the servant.

“Onnab,” the woman said in a voice that was barely more than a whisper.

“Thank you, Onnab,” Sarah replied.

Minna, clearly offended by this, told Onnab to get out of the tent and get on with some work.

“I am marrying a very fine man,” Minna asserted once Onnab left.

“Have you met him yet?” Sarah knew that in traditional, local communities it was quite possible that the bride would only meet her husband for the first time on her wedding day.

“Yes, we knew each other as children, though of course I haven’t seen him since I became a woman. He comes from an excellent family.”

“And who is his family?” Sarah asked. The woman clearly wanted to talk about her upcoming marriage, which was normal for any bride-to-be wherever they came from.

“His father was the younger brother of Sheikh Omar Al-Zafir, my father.”

It took Sarah less than a second to work out that that this meant that Minna was marrying her cousin and a first cousin at that. Sarah was furious. Whatever her beliefs about cultural sensitivity and respect, there was no way she was going to have her ransom money pay for such a union.

“Minna, you can’t marry him. Marrying your cousin can lead to all sorts of problems; your children, if you have any, may be severely affected.” Sarah, as a doctor, regularly saw the horrific results of consanguineous marriages, a common occurrence in the country.

“My sons will be proud members of the Al-Zafir tribe. They will grow up to be strong and feared by their enemies, like my father.”

“No, Minna, they won’t. They will be born with birth defects and genetic diseases. You can’t go through with this marriage.”

“That is a lie! You’re only saying this so that your husband won’t have to hand over your ransom to pay for my wedding.”

“Listen, Minna! I’m not lying. I know, I’m a…” Sarah was about to say that she was a doctor, but stopped herself.

“You’re an ambassador’s wife, but that doesn’t make you more important than me. You can’t tell me what to do. I am the daughter of Sheikh Omar Al-Zafir!”

“Yes, I know,” thought Sarah. “You’ve told me several times.” She could see that she was getting nowhere with the girl, but even if she did manage to convince Minna, the girl would have no power to cancel the wedding. She would have to speak directly to her uncle, Sheikh Akbar.

“I have to talk to you about Minna’s wedding,” Sarah said to the sheikh.

He looked up at her in surprise. He was sitting on some cushions in his tent, surrounded by a group of men. Most of them had rifles slung over their shoulders and one of them, a younger man who was sitting near the entrance, had taken his rifle off his back and was now pointing it in Sarah’s direction.

“Weddings are a woman’s concern,” the sheikh replied. He signalled to the younger man with the gun to put it down. “Discuss the wedding with my niece. Maybe you could help her with the arrangements. It’ll help you to pass the time until we hear from your husband. Now if you’ll excuse me, I was busy conferring with my men about more important matters.”

The sheikh turned to one side and started talking to the group of men on his left. The man with the gun stepped forward and used his rifle to try to drive Sarah out of the tent. However, Sarah pushed past him and walked nearer towards the sheikh. All of his men stood and most of them grabbed their guns. One man, with an extremely long, black beard, pulled out a sword. However, the sheikh remained seated and ignored most of what was taking place around him.

“Minna cannot marry her cousin,” Sarah declared.

“Has she refused?” the sheikh asked, barely looking at Sarah. “She seemed most grateful when I informed her of the arrangements.”

“No, it’s not that.”

“Good. She is happy and the groom, Saeed Al-Zafir, is happy. Aren’t you, Saeed?” the sheikh asked, addressing the armed man by the entrance to the tent, the one who was trying to force her out with his gun.

“I am indebted to you, Sheikh Akbar Al-Zafir, for your generosity.” The young man bowed low to the sheikh though he continued to point his gun in Sarah’s direction.

The sheikh nodded to him in return and then looked up at Sarah and smiled. “So you see, Lady Bolton, this is a blessed union. No one is being forced to marry anyone else. Everyone is happy. Thank you for your concern. Perhaps the groom can escort you back to your tent.”

Sarah wasn’t going to let him dismiss her so easily. Clearly, he thought she was protesting the fact that the marriage had been arranged, as so many were in Yazan, often against the will of one or both of the two people that made up the wedding couple.

“It’s good that both the bride and groom are happy,” Sarah said in an attempt to open up a dialogue with the sheikh about it. “However, it isn’t good that they are cousins. Cousins shouldn’t marry each other.”

One of the sheikh’s men started laughing and Sarah could hear another man muttering something about where would any of them get their wives from. The sheikh signalled to them to be quiet.

“The wedding has already been arranged,” he said. “It’s not open to discussion.”

“I insist you listen to me,” Sarah said. She stepped closer to where the sheikh was seated. Several of his men came forward. One of them looked particularly angry and bared a set of broken, yellow teeth at her. Sarah wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d started snarling like a wild dog. She knew that she was certainly overstepping the mark, first by coming into the sheikh’s tent and then by challenging him. However, she wasn’t going to let the matter rest. There was no way she was going to have her ransom money pay for such a union. As a doctor, she couldn’t have anything to do with a consanguineous marriage that would lead to proven medical problems for the couple’s children and grandchildren. She had to make the sheikh understand and call off the match.

When the sheikh saw that she wasn’t going to be intimidated into leaving, he signalled for her to sit down and told all of his men to leave them.

“I’m sorry if I’ve neglected my duties as a host. Can I get you some food or something to drink?” he asked once Sarah was seated on a large cushion on the floor next to him.

“I’m fine, thank you. Minna gave me something to eat.”

“She is such a good girl. I am proud to have her as my niece. Her father was a great man. He was Sheikh Omar Al-Zafir.”