Princess: Secrets to Share

by Jean Sasson

  But knowing my husband, and the other men in my family, those who are at the top and who rule with power and strength, none would ever make an allowance for any criticism of the ruling family, or of the clerics, or of the social system.

  I sat quietly and gathered my thoughts, wondering how my husband would react when I approached the topic of Raif Badawi.

  When Kareem arrived home an hour later, he had a big smile upon his face and joy in his heart over Little Sultana’s recovery. He was also pleased about a business deal that had prospered. I did not get my hopes up, for I know that my husband’s temper can spark and flare in a moment if the forbidden subject of the elderly rulers in our family is broached by anyone, even his wife.

  I braced myself, as I am a wife who well knows the man she married, and I knew that there was little hope that Kareem would agree that Raif Badawi should be saved from his tortured existence.

  I also knew that I could not mention Dr. Meena’s name or she would surely be severely punished for “disobedience” against the royal family. The poor woman might end up in a cell near to Badawi himself!

  I would have to accept the full responsibility for Dr. Meena’s thoughts and ideas.

  Soon I was combatting battling a full-blown firestorm, and the dread settled in my heart that I would never know the joy of declaring victory over an antiquated government system that appeared to be set in stone.

  9 - A Middle Woman

  I am no longer a young woman. I am not yet an old woman. I am a middle woman.

  I freely admit that I have borrowed this concept. I heard this expression from the American woman who has written five books, including this one, revealing various stories of my life as a princess in Saudi Arabia. She is older than me, but we are sisters at heart, and so our difference in years has never been noticed. When I asked her age a few years ago, she courteously responded: “I am pleased to acknowledge that I am no longer a young woman. But I am not yet an old woman. I am a middle woman. Despite my middling status, my thoughts still revolve around the future, and what I might do to serve womankind, to bring better times to all people of the world. So I am a youthful-minded middle woman.

  “I have gathered some wisdom along the way, and hopefully have become more intelligent. Think of me as a field whose harvest has come in, nevertheless vibrant and strong with leaves stretching to the sky seeking the sun, not yet familiar with withering and dying. I believe that to be a middle woman is to be the best woman of all, still filled with passion for all of humankind, wealthy with promise, and steeped in wisdom.”

  Her words gave me a certain joy. I smiled at the idea that I am fast approaching my best time in life. For now, I will refer to myself as a middle woman until the day comes that I will take the lovely character and starring role of being an older woman.

  Therefore, as a middle woman, I was wise enough to shut my mouth and better prepare myself for the storm that I knew was coming when I said to my husband, “Kareem, I have something to discuss that you will not like.’

  “Then silence your tongue, Sultana,” he replied, “because I am a contented man today and do not wish to know anything of your latest passionate idea that will put me in a foul mood.”

  I felt a smile grow from my heart to my face, for I know my husband too well. “Yes, Husband, my tongue will remain at rest, at least until after a new sunrise and sunset. But remember, tomorrow evening I will expect you to listen without speaking while I share something of utmost importance with you.”

  “Tomorrow is a new day, Wife, and I promise to listen to your words, even if I disagree with those words. But today? No, today is a celebration. Our granddaughter is home, safe from harm, and no longer in distress. I closed a deal earlier that will ensure the continuing prosperity of my business in the islands, a business that provides many job opportunities for the poor.”

  He waited for a compliment or thanks from me regarding his business skills, but I said nothing, already planning my strategy for the following evening.

  “Does my news please you, Sultana?’

  “Indeed, Husband. I am happy for all of us that Little Sultana’s health scare was nothing too serious and that she is fully recovered. We are luckier than most to have three healthy children and four healthy grandchildren.”

  Kareem gazed at me in expectation.

  “Oh, and I am always pleased when your businesses prosper—particularly when help is given to those in need.”

  And so the evening passed in a most pleasant manner, with cheerful talk over dinner about our grandchildren and Kareem’s news that he was making even more money, despite the reality that if we were lucky enough to live one thousand years, we would be hard-pressed to spend the money now in our possession. Kareem makes money, and I give it away. Thus far, he has not complained because we have felt no pinch of need.

  He was so obsessed with his talk of money that I teased him: “You are the maker. I am the taker. But what I take, I give away, so I pray to Allah that He has no complaint with me on this point.”

  I am glad that my husband has developed his business acumen so well over the years that he is now a highly talented man in that world. His education was in the legal field, but he discovered soon enough that his talents lie in the vicinity of business-making deals in the commercial sector. This is good news for all the family, for when Kareem and I first married, my wealth was more than double his own. Undeniably, Kareem al-Saud is a good and mainly fair man, but in our society, regardless of class or status, men are deemed to be the head of the home, and in educated circles they are, at the very least, one step ahead of the women in their lives when it comes to business matters; it is the creation of wealth and business concepts that appeal to male sensitivities. In my land, family concerns occupy most women and can empower them.

  I have very little care as to who it is that counts the most money in their bank account, whether it is my husband or me. I spend much less on myself these days than I did in the past, for I only need so many expensive gowns, and no longer desire jewels; my six homes are all just as I need them to be, beautifully furnished and scattered around Saudi Arabia and in other countries in the world so that we always have a roof that will cover our heads. I am aware that I live in a world of opulence, but in truth, other than food and shelter, I only need enough to ensure the safety of my children and grandchildren, and the peace of mind to know that I am not depriving my family when I spend my many millions on the charities that are close to my heart. Education is my top charitable priority, as I truly feel that only education can change the status of women in the world. But over the years, other needs have been presented to me, and I am thankful to have ample funds to help those in genuine need, whether they be little children in refugee camps or women who are walking about with faces so disfigured that their lives are radically changed and their mere survival is uncertain.

  After an evening of pleasantries, Kareem retired to his quarters to telephone his business managers, located in America and other places that are eight or more hours behind or ahead of Saudi Arabia. Kareem now has so many interests in so many different countries that any hour of the day it is a workday somewhere.

  I retired to my own quarters and, once prepared for bed, I took out Dr. Meena’s letter about the “worthy man” Raif Badawi, rereading her heartfelt words and trying to remember all that I know about the young human-rights activist. I made a note to have my assistants conduct in-depth research on Badawi and his wife, Ensaf Haidar, as a top priority the following morning, so that when I discussed his case with Kareem I would have full knowledge of the man, his activities, and the subsequent reactions from the Saudi legal system and government.

  I was fighting a sinking feeling because I knew in my heart that the men of my family must be heavily involved in Badawi’s case because his cause had reached an epic magnitude. Governments and people of many nationalities were demanding his freedom. Anytime the eyes of the entire world are focused on Saudi Arabia, the men of my family take an acti
ve interest in whatever the nucleus of the problem might be, which in this case was the young man Raif Badawi.

  For the entire free world to condemn our government is a serious humiliation for the al-Saud men. While I know that Kareem is not one of the few third-generation princes who will ever be in line to the throne—for too many reasons to explain here—and that such important decisions are not his to make, my husband has close friendships with those who are currently ruling. Hopefully, they would hear Kareem’s words, take them seriously, and bring about a reversal in their decision to make an example of Raif Badawi.

  ***

  I awoke from my restless sleep with worry on my mind. I was relieved to discover that Kareem had left the palace earlier in the day. His absence would give me the opportunity to work openly with my assistants, compiling a file on Raif Badawi. If Kareem were roaming about the palace, popping in and out of my private quarters, he would certainly discover my interest in the case that had fueled a great deal of international interest. I felt it was essential that I be fully prepared to debate the issue in a wise manner based on facts and sound information. Although my grandfather King Abdul Aziz at no time had female descendants in mind when he was attempting to teach his offspring the wisdom that came so naturally to him, I feel confident he would be pleased to know that some of his granddaughters take pride in modeling themselves on his actions and taking an interest in vital issues related to the betterment of our country. Most female royals are nice enough, but they are notoriously frivolous because they are taught not to bother with important issues affecting public life in Saudi Arabia. Instead, they focus on what I believe are the shallow things of life, such as fashion and personal appearance. But there is great promise in the new generation of royals. I am seeing many more princesses who relate to the serious issues that affect most human beings. I am proud to say that I count my two daughters among these enlightened and wise young women. Each, in her own unique way, tries hard to make a positive contribution to society.

  No matter what I did or said, there was no question that my understanding of Raif Badawi’s position was certain to create a predicament in our palace. Over the years, Kareem has suffered quietly as I have focused my work on gender discrimination in Saudi Arabia and other lands. And I understand his struggle with my passionate stance. Truly, until very recent times hardly any citizens of my country would have supported my passion to help change the world for women. My actions on behalf of Saudi females would have been considered by most as nothing more than the doings of a mischief-maker. Nowadays, though, there are many more Saudi Arabians who believe in equality and that women should live more freely.

  Just as the Saudi public used to be against anyone heralding women’s rights, the Saudi public is now against young people who are focusing on freedom of speech, such as Raif Badawi. Many believe that despite the daily irritations most Saudis endure at the hands of members of the Committee for the Promotion of Virtue and the Prevention of Vice (CPVPV), most believe it is best to try to deal with the current mode of rule rather than to exchange what we have for a more aggressive form of militants. Saudi Arabians know that the governments in Libya, Syria, Iraq, and other Middle Eastern countries have been overthrown by those who support change, but in nearly every instance those citizens are now ruled by a government much more toxic than the previous one.

  Mainly, Kareem acknowledged my activities because he is a man who agrees that gender discrimination against women in Saudi Arabia, or anywhere in the world, for that matter, should end instantly. Perhaps this is because he is a man who loves his daughters and granddaughters; he does not wish for any of the four to suffer from intolerance and prejudice.

  Now, if I entered the political realm and pushed for a prisoner to be pardoned, he would be sure to react negatively, for the political arena is very dangerous ground to walk upon in Saudi Arabia, whether one is a royal or not.

  And so I began my day’s work: my objective being to discover the world of Raif Badawi, an advocate of nonviolence, finding out what he stands for, the actions he had taken, and the Saudi government’s subsequent legal prosecution of him.

  By the late afternoon, I felt I better knew and understood this worthy young man and his equally worthy wife. I held them both in high regard. Rather than punish such a man, I believed he should be rewarded. Saudi Arabia needs thousands of like-minded citizens. Both Badawi and Haidar are nonviolent and are passionate advocates for basic human rights for all. To my dismay, my government is increasing its efforts to control the “thoughts” of its citizens; such repression has never succeeded for very long in modern history.

  I feel enormous disappointment and frustration that the men of my own family do not realize that nonviolent activists are precisely what our country needs in order to move to the next step, to take our rightful place beside enlightened governments who are working on behalf of their citizens, rather than working against them. Why? Because both our social system and our legal system defy common sense. If there is anything that I have learned in life, it is that when change is needed and strongly desired by citizens, change will come, one way or another. It is wise at this time in our history to seek nonviolent examples and encourage the fair-minded activists to help create gradual change rather than leave a space in the hearts of our citizens that may welcome violent militants who swoop down like angry raptor birds and destroy all in their path. We have witnessed all around the Middle East the tragedies that occur when citizens of repressive governments become so frustrated that they turn to those who preach violence. Millions of people have become refugees and beggars when violent extremists have overthrown governments. Should this happen in Saudi Arabia, the first action taken would be to behead or burn to death every Saudi royal. Then the violent ones would turn on the citizens of our land, creating scores of refugees such as we have seen in Iraq, Syria, and Libya. It is much better to work with nonviolent activists, who take the time to set up appropriate organizations to work with citizens, rather than create violence in the hearts of men by refusing to allow them to participate in decision-making and government.

  No—Saudi Arabia does not belong to the al-Saud family. Saudi Arabia belongs to all its citizens. Never have I felt so strongly on this point than after coming to “know” the activist Raif Badawi.

  For example, here are the most pressing concerns that demand change for most Saudis who are educated, intelligent, fair-minded, and possessed of common sense:

  1. The guardian system in Saudi Arabia should be the first to be eliminated. All Saudi females, from the day of their birth to the day of their death, are under the rule of a male family member who makes all decisions affecting their lives; they are treated like children. Until the guardian system is eliminated, women cannot function as adults. Our lives are lived as those of perpetual minors. Our guardian has the right to say if we go to school, if and to whom we marry, if and where we travel, and if and when we can see a doctor. Women die in Saudi Arabia when the male guardian cannot be found to sign documents at hospitals giving approval for treatment. In fact, there was a recent case where a car accident caused the death of the husband and father. The wife and daughter were grievously wounded, but without a guardian present to sign the proper papers, the wife died for need of an amputation. Mothers are not allowed to make the most trivial decisions on behalf of their children.

  The only aspect of our lives not determined by our guardian is when we die. Our guardian does not have that power to determine the date and time of our death, which is in the hands of Allah only. In the past, Saudi women were confined in purdah, trapped in their homes, and had no inkling of how to survive or participate in public life without the men of their family. But those days are no more. The vast majority of females in Saudi Arabia are educated at least through the primary grades, with many more graduating from secondary educational institutions. With education, women are able to make their own decisions as to where to work and to whom to marry. The guardian system is so ridiculous that most peop
le living outside Saudi Arabia can scarcely believe that it is still thriving in my country.

  2. Women should be allowed to drive! The men in my family have been promising to look into the possibility of women driving since the mid-1970s. But still nothing has been done; all we do is talk about change. Too many women are stranded, unable to get to work, to the doctor, or to purchase groceries. Saudi Arabia is the only country in the world where women are not allowed to drive.

  3) The Committee for the Promotion of Virtue and the Prevention of Vice (CPVPV) should be eliminated. The committee is comprised of approximately 5,000 very angry men who are given authority to roam the streets of our cities, looking for sinners. They are searching for the most mundane reasons to harass women, and sometimes men; they arrest unrelated men and women who might be together, as my country insists upon the strictest separation of sexes. Men and women who are not related or not married cannot dine in a restaurant together, or even ride in a car with one another. (Drivers hired to transport women are exempt from this rule.)

  Members of the committee enforce what they believe to be the dress code for all women, which is to be covered from head to toe in dark colors. Although they sometimes ignore women foreign to our land, they are an achingly painful thorn in the side of Saudi women. Females in my country are afraid of these men, who have full power to arrest them for the way they look, dress, or talk. I have known three women who were terrorized by these men, then arrested for wearing high heels that made a clicking sound on the pavement. The charge was “enticing innocent men whose hearts were pure”— that is they were “pure” until they heard the clicking high heels! They also patrol the stores, making certain all are closed for salat, the prayer times, and that men do not miss going to a mosque during prayer. These men used to be armed with sticks or canes and took the greatest pleasure in beating women who dared to show their hair, or failed to cover their bodies in the abaya or a similar outfit. They were often armed with cans of red spray paint and would, with great enthusiasm, mark the legs of “offending” women.