by Jean Sasson
Thankfully, reform came in 2007 after a number of the most brutish incidents caught the attention of the foreign press. I have paid special attention to these men, and I believe that most are uneducated brutes empowered by archaic laws to harass innocent Saudis. Like most of the uneducated, they seek such power so that they might harm others, appointing themselves as judge and jury over the innocents of our land.
4. All adult Saudis should be allowed to vote, whether male and female. Although there has been endless talk and empty promises about women voting, in reality neither men nor women have a true voice in the Saudi Arabian legal or social systems. The rules are there, and we are made to follow them or else! Some men are allowed to vote in local elections, but these elected officials can do little but follow the rules themselves. As far as women voting, I will believe it when I see it. For a woman to vote, she must get to the polls. She cannot drive, as I have mentioned. Most Saudi men will refuse to transport their wives to the polls to vote. It’s a mind-numbing merry-go-round, and the losers are, once again, Saudi women.
5. All Saudis should have the right to free expression. Should any Saudi Arabian lightly criticize the government or the religious clerics, they are arrested, tried, and most often given a long prison sentence and many lashes. This has happened to the “worthy man” Raif Badawi, as well as his own attorney, a young man named Waleed Abulkhair—who happens to be married to Raif’s sister—who was imprisoned and given a fifteen-year sentence for defending his client.
There are a number of Saudi journalists who have dared criticize the men in my family, or the religious authorities, and these men have been convicted on ridiculous charges, such as “breaking allegiance with the ruler” or “contact with a foreign journalist,” or for “insulting the judiciary” or “gossiping about the ruler,” Other charges include “calling for atheist thoughts,” “disloyalty to the king,” and “harming the reputation of the kingdom.” Any exposure of human-rights abuses occurring in Saudi Arabia—and there are ample abuses—will win an activist a long term in prison and many painful lashes. This should stop now!
6. Children should be exempt from arrest and torture. Saudi judges are allowed to order the arrest and detention of children if the judge sees any sign of puberty. Since judges are not doctors, I question them such a right. How does a judge know if a child has entered puberty? Besides, puberty is coming earlier to children these days, as early as eight years in some cases. Should these children be arrested, tortured, and imprisoned, for any crime? No country should arrest and torture children.
There are other things that must change in my country, but those abuses I will save to describe on another day, as I have listed six of the most important abuses Saudi citizens are enduring.
While there are many wrongs being committed in Saudi Arabia, and so many changes that are needed in this land, only the men are in a position to bring change: One of these men is my husband, another is my father, and another is my son.
Sadly, even I, a Saudi princess, would be imprisoned for compiling this list of abuses and calling for their end. And none of the men of my family would have the power to save me from severe punishment.
The “thought police” are now ruling Saudi Arabia.
***
I considered displaying my feminine wiles when meeting with Kareem, pondering over what pretty dress I might wear and how to style my hair, but common sense prevailed. I realized that I should not have to seduce my husband with an attractive look and sweet smile when attempting to convince him to understand my views on the serious topics I wished to raise with him. I know that my husband loves me for my compassionate character and meticulous mind, so that is enough. It is wonderful that he considers me to be a physically attractive woman, but one has nothing to do with the other.
And so I wore my most comfortable turquoise lounging gown, with my hair loosely draping my shoulders. I wore no jewelry and little makeup. My lips were pink and my brows were tweezed into shape, and I sprayed my favorite perfume on my hair and wrists, but this was nothing special, rather my daily regime when I am at home with no plans to go out or to entertain guests.
I was keen anxious to see my husband, for hope was building in my heart that he, as I, was discontent with the increased security measures being taken against innocent Saudi citizens for merely speaking their minds.
When he arrived, he did not appear too pleased to see me and seemed physically weary. Although he smiled sweetly and settled into his easy chair, waiting for his Arabic coffee and a plate of dates to be served, I could see that something was troubling him.
I felt uneasy by his weariness because I worried that his smile was concealing a cranky mood. My husband is naturally irritable when he is tired.
I considered postponing our conversation until the morning, but then remembered that Kareem and his brother Assad were traveling to Switzerland for a four-day business trip the following day.
I would have to speak with him tonight, or delay for nearly a week, and I did not wish to wait so long to seek to alleviate the suffering of the “worthy man” Raif Badawi. Truthfully, I was fearful that the floggings would start once again and that the frail-bodied Badawi would depart his life on Earth as a result of this torture. I agreed with Dr. Meena, should such a thing happen, that it would be a shame that forever lived in the pages of the history of Saudi Arabia.
However, I decided that the best course of action was to stall, but only for a few hours. I would wait until after our dinner meal before approaching the delicate topic.
***
Our meal was exceptional, with our favorite foods prepared by our French chef. Many of our cousins envied us for our divine chef, despite the fact that most had French chefs in their kitchens, although all told us that no one was more talented than our own. Several of our cousins had inflamed Kareem’s temper when they attempted to lure our chef to work in their palaces to create desirable dishes for their own families.
We started dining with a shrimp cocktail, followed by fresh snapper from the Red Sea, with a savory rice dish and grilled vegetables. For desert, there was a rich French crème brûlée with fresh fruits. Although we both enjoyed the fabulous dishes, our talk was strained, for Kareem was concerned about what it was I needed to say to him, and I was apprehensive as to how the evening would end. Would Kareem feel strongly enough to approach his most powerful cousins, the sons of the recently deceased king, Abdullah, or the sons of our new king, Salman, or perhaps the grandsons of the long-deceased king, Faisal, or the sons of Sultan or Nayef? All those royal cousins had extra influence and one day some of them would be kings, sitting at the pinnacle of Saudi power. If Kareem might influence the cousins of his age, they, in turn, might influence our king to try a different tactic with those pushing for the freedom to speak their minds.
Once we finished with our meal, we sat on the balcony overlooking our beautiful swimming pool. While sipping a glass of cold buttermilk, which Kareem always drinks at the end of his evening meal, my husband looked at me with curiosity flashing in his eyes. “All right, Sultana. I am here. I will be quiet. Tell me this important news that you wish to share with me.”
“One moment, Husband,” I said, as I stood and walked to the antique Windsor cabinet we had purchased in England several years before. I had placed the reference papers for Badawi in the top drawer.
Kareem looked at me in amusement. “So, you require notes, darling? I have never known you to be short of words!”
“True, Husband,” I said with a little smile. “But this situation is very different.”
Kareem sat up straight, his eyes fixed on the papers in my hand. I knew my husband’s plan. He was trying to read the papers from an upside-down angle. My husband had perfected that ability years before when we were young and I kept many secrets. It was a way of knowing my secrets before I confessed them. And so I intentionally kept the papers slanted so he could not see clearly enough to examine the words I was hiding.
I moved my chair
and sat at a distance. “Let me read you something, Husband,” I said. I cleared my voice and spoke distinctly. “ ‘The only way to deal with an unfree world is to become so absolutely free that your very existence is an act of rebellion.’ ”
Kareem stared at me in bemusement. “And?”
“What do you think of that statement?’
“Nothing much. Did you write it?’
“No, Kareem. I did not write it! A man named Albert Camus said it.”
“Should I know this Mr. Camus?”
“He is dead now, but he was a French Nobel prize-winning author and a philosopher.”
“Why are you quoting him to me?”
“Kareem, this quote was used by someone important in our world.”
“Sultana, you are speaking in riddles. I do not know of what you speak.”
“All right, let me read you something else, Husband. ‘For me, liberalism simply means, live and let live. This is a splendid slogan. However, the nature of liberalism—particularly the Saudi version—needs to be clarified. It is even more important to sketch the features and parameters of liberalism, to which the other faction, controlling and claiming exclusive monopoly of the truth, is so hostile that they are driven to discredit it without discussion or fully understanding what the word actually means. They have succeeded in planting hostility to liberalism in the minds of the public and turning people against it, lest the carpet be pulled out from under their feet. But their hold over people’s minds and society shall vanish like dust carried off in the wind.’ ”
“That sounds like something a young person would dream up. Did one of our children write those words?” Kareem asked with alarm.
My husband so astonished me with his lack of knowledge about the blog writings of Raif Badawi that I sat slack-jawed, staring at him.
“No, Kareem,” I finally said. “This conversation has little to do with our children, other than my concern for the future of the entire al-Saud family and the country that we love.”
Kareem raised his hands, gesturing his confusion. “Please speak plainly, Sultana. I do not have a crystal ball. I cannot read your mind.”
I stared into my husband’s eyes. “Kareem, do you find it ironic that Saudi Arabia is a member of the United Nation’s top human-rights body? And that earlier in the year they tried to assume the head of the council?”
Kareem stiffened. “Ironic? No. No more than Cuba, Russia, and China, all of whom are or have been members.”
“Well, Husband, I find it ironic that the land we love is a member of such a council that was supposedly formed to stop human-rights abuses, even as we are imprisoning, torturing and destroying the lives of young nonviolent activists.”
Kareem stood up and went to the entry to the balcony before returning to me. With a lowered voice, he spoke. “Sultana, what are implying?”
“Darling husband, I am talking about Raif Badawi, Waleed Abulkhair, Abdulrahman al-Subaihi, Bandar al-Nogithan, Abdulrahman al-Rumaih, and Mikhlif al-Shammari. All of these men are peaceful tweeters, bloggers, journalists, or attorneys. None have raised a hand to another human being. Now they are either in prison or being tried for the most meaningless charges, like producing something that harms public morals Really, Kareem!”
“You do not know of what you speak, Sultana,” Kareem repeated, maddening me with his attitude that he was Mr. Wisdom.
“Do not insult your wife, Kareem.”
“I know of these men,” he confessed with a loud sigh.
“Are you certain? You seemed rather mindless to me about very important people in Saudi Arabia. Young men who are standing up for personal freedoms.”
“I really did not want to enter this conversation with you, Sultana. Take this message from me. All these men are a danger to the peaceful reign of our government.”
“How are they a danger? They only long for the freedom to speak the thoughts in their heads. Is that a danger to anyone?”
“Let me repeat, Sultana. You do not know of what you speak. Look at history. Remember 1979 in Iran? The shah of Iran was pushed by his allies to allow an easing of security. Within a year, he was pushed once again—pushed out of power! The Iranian people believed their lives would improve but with the fanatical religious clerics at the helm they have suffered a hundred times more than during the days of the shah. We can look to many other nations that are undergoing the most violent upheavals after their leaders—repressive leaders, I admit—were ousted. Saudi Arabia is far from perfect, Sultana, but if the government allows such men to arouse the people into anger, we will be driven out of our country, too. There are times when governments must tighten restrictions, rather than loosen them.” Kareem made a little sound as he shuddered. “Do you wish for your family to be ousted, some of us murdered while others live in exile in another nation? Think back. Our land has been ruled mainly very peacefully since our grandfather formed this country. What would you like to see in place of our al-Saud rulers?”
“I want no one besides our family, Kareem. For the most part, all has been well, but this is more serious. How can we punish men who are nonviolent and want nothing more than to tackle the social problems plaguing our country? That is a good goal for anyone, Kareem. I’ve been doing it for years.”
Kareem grunted but did not reply.
“Kareem, you say you know about these men. The men I am speaking about are intelligent, kind, soft-spoken, and harmful to no one. These men are suffering, and none more than Raif Badawi. He is going to die in prison, Kareem. He has the mind of a scholar, not the body of an athlete. One more flogging and he will die, Kareem. He will die! Such a black mark on our family will never be erased. At the very least, I beg you, please encourage our ruler to release these men and allow them to leave Saudi Arabia. Release them from the torture they experience every day. We would be much wiser not to punish such men. Although I sincerely believe that if they remain, and work with the government to slowly bring in democratic change, we would all benefit. Look at the wisdom shown by the Jordanian rulers. They allow dissent, at least to a degree, and for the most part their citizens love them and would seek no other ruler.”
“You cannot compare Jordan to Saudi Arabia, Sultana.”
“And why not?”
“You cannot. It is too complicated to explain.” Kareem sat and stared at me for many long moments. “Sultana, all right. I admit that I have read every word written by Raif Badawi. Although he seems a good man, his words do incite. If he were allowed to leave Saudi Arabia and live in Canada with his wife, he would be much more vocal about the things he disagrees with in our country. I feel that he would create a big following with a consensus to shame and discredit King Salman and those who will follow him in years to come. Saudi Arabia is best ruled by the al-Saud. I cringe to think what might follow our family if we are ousted.”
“So you will do nothing?”
“What can I do, Sultana? I am not the king. I am not the king-in-waiting. I am not even the crown prince-in-waiting. I will never be appointed to a high position in our government. All I can do is support our rulers because without them we will end up living as exiles. Can you not see how vulnerable we would be? Is that what you want, Sultana?
“This topic has been discussed until there is no more discussion left. As you know, the king does not decide alone. The minds of all the royals in high positions are probed to get ideas. Raif Badawi is a ‘hot potato,’ as they say in the United States. He is a threat to our rule, regardless of what happens. If he is released and is allowed to travel and live abroad, he will never stop harassing us with his words. If he is released and lives in Saudi Arabia with a travel ban, he will be a thorn in our side—and we will be the same in his. This is not a man who can be bought or threatened. He is unusual; there is no doubt.
“If he dies in prison, it will be a huge shame. You are right about that one point. But once he made the decision to attack all that is Saudi Arabia, this complicated issue was instantly unsolvable.”
&nb
sp; Kareem was correct about Raif Badawi. Badawi had the highest and most impeccable ethics. Money would not buy his silence. He would die first.
“So you will speak to no one?”
“I cannot.”
“You must! We must get this young man released, Kareem.” I was fighting back tears. I was failing. Kareem, I knew, was going to do nothing. Although from his words I felt that he would be unsuccessful, I longed for my husband to take a stand, to show the same bravery being shown by Raid Badawi.
Kareem’s face reddened and his expression became very firm, reminding me of my father in one of his nastiest moods. “Sultana, I know you well. You are a stubborn woman. You accept no advice. You plunge ahead into the forest, even when there is danger behind every tree. But, Sultana, I am warning you. If you do not burn those papers, there will be trouble, and if you ignore my counsel on the issue of the activists, I will be forced to take the strongest action. You cannot destroy the lives of your family by thrusting yourself into this political quagmire.” He stood up. “I will not allow you to destroy all that we have built. I will not allow you to ruin the lives of our children and grandchildren. If you do not cease with this foolish and dangerous behavior, I will divorce you. I will.”
Tingles of shock ran throughout my entire body. My husband was menacing me by threatening to divorce me for the first time in our married life. While I had pushed him to the limit on a number of occasions, he had never resorted to warnings of a divorce.
Kareem strode purposefully to the door, turned at the last minute and threatened me once again. “Do not doubt that I will divorce you over this. I love you, but I will divorce you. My children’s lives cannot be destroyed by your reckless acts. There is nothing you, or I, can do to change the circumstances of this young man’s life. His fate is in his hands, and in the hands of our king.”
