Princess Sultana's Circle (12 page)

Meanwhile, Amani continued
with her urgent task of emptying Faddel’s paradise garden of every
singing creature. Thankfully, Khalidah’s employees were so
pre-occupied with their mistress’ condition that they did not
notice the frantic behavior of my daughter which was taking place
behind them.

Khalidah finally opened her
eyes and when she saw my face hovering over hers, she groaned and
swooned again. After the third time I had roused my cousin only to
witness her immediate relapse, I decided that Khalidah should be
moved to her bed. I sprang to my feet as I instructed the male
servants, “Quickly, lift your mistress, and carry her into the
palace.”

All three men exchanged
worried glances, and then stepped backward. Their eyes betrayed
their thoughts; I saw that they considered me of unsound mind. The
smallest of the men finally spoke, “Madam, it is
forbidden.”

Standing there, with the
helpless Khalidah at my feet, I realized that these men were
repelled by the very thought of touching Khalidah; their mistress,
true, but a woman, nevertheless.

Many fundamentalist Muslim
men believe that all women are impure, and that if they touch even
the palm of a woman not legally bound to them, they will suffer
red-hot embers applied to their own palms on Judgment
Day.

Since it is reported that
Prophet Mohammed refused to touch any woman who did not belong to
him, there are many hadiths, or interpretations of the Prophet’s
words and actions on this subject. A popular hadith on this very
topic is that: “A praying man may interrupt his prayers if one of
three things should pass in front of him: a black dog, a woman, or
an ass.” On more than one occasion I have even heard my own father
say that he would rather be splashed by a pig than to brush against
the elbow of a woman that he did not know.

Without thinking, I rushed
toward the two men closest to me and simultaneously grabbed both
their arms. “Take your mistress into the palace! Now!”

The two men, with eyes
opened wide in alarm, struggled to disengage themselves from my
grasp. Since each man had greater strength than a small woman, they
quickly succeeded in pulling away from me.

With a look of genuine
shock and repulsion on their faces, both men stooped to the ground
and began to rub sand on the skin of their arms where I had touched
them.

Their reaction infuriated
me. Even though I am aware that the Koran warns that if a man
touches a strange woman, and cannot find water to wash, then he
should find “clean” soil and rub away the pollution of that woman,
I was still offended.

The quick-thinking Layla
intervened. “Wait,” she said, “I have an idea.” She rushed back
toward the palace.

I turned my attention back
to Khalidah. I patted her cheeks and called out her name. She
refused to respond to my pleas, but when I turned slightly to
address Maha, I saw her peek at me through slightly opened eyelids.
Obviously Khalidah was feigning her condition so that she could
escape answering Amani’s charge of cruelty, and, in the process, to
gain great sympathy.

Layla returned with a
blanket which she laid out like a mat next to her mistress. Since
these foolish servants still refused to touch her, Layla, Maha, and
I rolled Khalidah from the grass onto that mat. I then ordered the
men to take the corners of the blanket, and still they recoiled. I
shrieked that I would have them jailed! Knowing I was of royal
blood, each of the men then reluctantly gripped a corner of the
blanket. With faces filled with pained endurance, they slowly
conveyed the debilitated Khalidah back to the palace.

I ordered Maha to find her
sister, who could no longer to be seen in the garden, and told her
to bring her to me in the palace.

Once Khalidah had revived
enough to take tea, I made profuse apologies for the unfortunate
incident. My cousin drank her tea in silence, refusing to look at
me. But, when I reminded her that many modern children are high
strung and uncontrollable, she gave a slight nod of recognition. I
had heard gossip that several of Khalidah’s sons were problems and
she seemed to have some understanding of having such a defiant
child as Amani.

After a somber farewell, I
left the palace without informing

Khalidah that Faddel’s
birds were no longer living in his earthly paradise. My reasoning
for this deception was that I had optimistic plans to return these
birds before they were missed.

As I walked down the long
hallway to the entrance of the palace, Maha rushed toward me. We
took each other’s hands. Out of breath from her running, she
wheezed, “Amani has disappeared, and so has our driver!”

Taking a deep breath, I
almost smiled when I remembered an ancient proverb often repeated
to me by my mother. “Remember, Maha, ‘no matter how high a bird
flies, it is destined to land somewhere.’ We will find Amani. And,
those birds will be with her.”

Questioning Mustafa, the
Egyptian doorman, I quickly learned that our own driver had
assisted Amani in gathering Faddel’s birds and had then driven my
daughter and her illicit cargo away from the palace. Mustafa
mentioned that he was surprised that his mistress had given my
daughter an Eid gift of so many birds. He whispered behind his hand
as if sharing a secret, “My master and his mistress are very
attached to their earthly belongings.”

I looked thoughtfully at
this poor man. Clearly, all was not perfect in Faddel’s
paradise.

In the Islamic religion,
there is a great duty for almsgiving, both mandatory and voluntary.
For many years, I had heard rumors that Faddel, who was one of the
richest Al Sa’uds, always made a great show of paying the
obligatory zakat, (which is the small percentage of income, like a
tithe, required by law of every Muslim) yet refused to contribute a
single Saudi Riyal voluntarily to charity. In the Arab world,
generosity is expected, especially of those who are wealthy, but
even poor Arabs are generous to a fault, believing that to receive
more than one gives is a great humiliation.

Faddel, however, was
evidently a greedy man in satisfying his own desires, while miserly
in his dealings with others. Faddel would pay his staff meager
wages, I guessed, and would happily grind the faces of the poor
into the desert sand without remorse. Such a man would surely
demand the return of the birds that his money had
purchased.

As these thoughts raced
through my mind, Mustafa arranged for one of Khalidah’s drivers to
return Maha and me to our own palace.

Once we had settled back in
the limousine as it moved through the streets of Jeddah, Maha
became impatient to bring the subject of the young girls in
Faddel’s harem to my renewed attention.

Mindful of the driver, I
silenced my daughter with a look and a nudge, and whispered,
“Darling, I promise I will hear you out, and we will help those
young women, but first, we must return these birds before they are
missed.”

The moment my feet touched
the driveway in front of our palace, I started calling out for my
youngest daughter. “Amani!”

Three of the Filipino
gardeners, Tony, Frank, and Jerry looked up from their
pruning.

“
She went there, Ma’am,”
Tony said, pointing in the direction of the women’s
garden.

“
We helped her carry many
birds, Ma’am,” Jerry added.

Good, I thought, I will
speak with Amani while the servants are re-loading the
birdcages.

At that moment, I saw
Kareem’s automobile slowly wind down our driveway. I steeled myself
for what was to come as I watched him emerge from the back seat and
walk toward me. He seemed to be in good humor after spending all
day with the King and other royal cousins, and smiled
cheerfully.

I felt a flicker of sorrow
for my husband, knowing that his good temperament would soon
dissipate.

I raised my eyebrows in
greeting, but did not smile or speak when he squeezed my
hand.

Kareem knows me well. “What
is the problem, Sultana?”

“
You will never believe
what I have to tell you,” I said, wearily.

As I confided the
afternoon’s troubles at the palace of Faddel, Kareem’s face turned
several shades of red as his anger grew.

“
And, now, Amani is in the
garden with the birds,” I concluded.

Kareem stood speechless as
he tried to grasp the consequences of his daughter stealing a large
number of birds from a royal cousin.

The persistent ringing of
Kareem’s cellular telephone interrupted our fretful thoughts, and
to my irritation, Kareem answered the phone. I quickly realized
that the conversation was not to his liking, for his face turned
even redder.

“
Yes,” he said in a calm
voice, “What you have heard is correct. Yes. I will attend to the
matter now.” Kareem gave me a pointed look.

“
Who was that?”

“
Faddel wants those damn
birds returned. Immediately.”

I groaned. No more than an
hour had passed, and Faddel already knew about Amani’s mischief! My
plan to return the birds quickly was no longer possible.

Just then Maha came running
from the women’s garden. “Mother, Amani she says she’ll kill
herself before she lets you take away the birds!”

I slapped my hands
together.

“
I think she means it,
too,” Maha added melodramatically. “She claims she will garrote
herself with her red leather belt!”

I screamed.

With a worried look, Kareem
headed for the women’s garden. Maha and I followed him without a
word. So did Tony, Frank, and Jerry, at a discreet
distance.

Amani was standing guard in
front of the lines of birdcages. A determined look was etched on
her face, and her eyes glowered. This meant trouble.

Kareem was furious but he
spoke cautiously. “Amani, I have just received a disturbing
telephone call from Cousin Faddel. He told me an unbelievable
story. He says that you, Amani, stole his birds. Is this true,
Daughter?”

Amani moved her lips into a
smile, but the look in her eyes negated it. “I did save some birds
from a terrible death, Father.”

Kareem said calmly. “You
know you must return those birds, Daughter. They do not belong to
you.”

My eyes were fixed
pleadingly on Amani, hoping she would consent.

Amani’s phony smile
disappeared. She thought for a moment before tilting her head in
defiance. In a clear and sure voice, she quoted a verse of the
Koran, “And they feed, for the love of God, the indigent, the
orphan, and the captive.” (S. LXXVI.8) And added, in her own words,
“The righteous Muslim will not starve any animal.”

I knew, as does every
Muslim, that Islamic authorities agree that the word “captive”
includes animals who are under subjection to man, and that such
creatures must be properly fed, housed, and looked after by
faithful Muslims.

“
You will have to return
the birds, Amani,” Kareem repeated sternly.

A strangled scream burst
out of Amani. “There was no food or water in many of the cages!”
Her hoarse voice lowered as she turned to stare into one of the
cages nearest her. “When I looked into their sweet little faces, I
knew that I must save them!” She gestured toward a bench behind
her. “I was too late to save them all,” she said, her voice
quivering. “I found more than two dozen dead birds.”

I looked at the bench, and
was startled to see a large number of dead birds lying in a perfect
row. Amani had placed a wreath of freshly picked flowers around the
tiny bodies.

Tears began to form in her
eyes. “I will give them a funeral later,” Amani
promised.

The insensitive Maha
laughed loudly, echoed by the three Filipino gardeners.

“
Shut up, and leave this
place,” Kareem commanded angrily.

Maha shrugged, and then
turned away, but the sound of her amused laughter followed her as
she walked down the garden path.

The three Filipinos took
cover behind some bushes. I did not point out their presence to
Kareem because they were three of my favorite servants, and I did
not want to risk deflecting Kareem’s great anger toward Amani, onto
them. The lives of our unmarried servants are so empty of family
life that they tend to take great interest in our household
dramas.

Amani was weeping in
earnest now. “I will not return these birds!” she pledged, “If you
force me to do so, I will throw myself into the Red
Sea!”

I gasped, first the
garrote, and now the sea! How would I ever protect my child from
the force of her own emotions?

Kareem and I exchanged
anxious looks. We both knew that our youngest child loved animals
with an intensity that defied all reason.

Kareem’s voice sounded
drained and tired. “Amani, sweetheart, I will buy you a thousand
other birds.”

“
No! No! I will not return
these birds!” Amani flung her small body over one of the birdcages
and began to screech.

Distraught at the sight of
our child in such anguish, Kareem and I both ran to her
side.