by Jean Sasson
Showing off his familiarity with the terminal, Abdullah glanced at his youngest sister and casually remarked that at the present time the fabric roof of the tent covered the world’s largest space, though there were plans in motion to cover a larger space in the city of Madinah.
Amani, my most sensitive child, squeezed my hand and smiled sweetly, saying, “Mummy, thanks for bringing us here.”
I gave my daughter a happy look. All was not lost! Who could have known that a journey made with such virtuous thought and the desire to praise God for the return of my eldest daughter’s lucidity would have long-lasting significance for my youngest child, Amani, and enduringly disastrous consequences for her mother and father?
Amani
“Makkah, ‘the blessed’, known as Umm Al Qurrah, ‘Mother of Cities’, is the spot toward which every believer faces five times a day in prayer. For millions of Muslims, it is the goal of a lifetime to travel to Makkah for Haj. The city is strictly banned to non-Muslims, but nonbelievers feel the keen disappointment of what they are missing and want to know what lies within. As a Saudi, I have been personally selected by God to protect the true faith that got its start in the holiest city in the world that is located in my country.”
—The explanation given to the author by an elderly Saudi Bedouin of why Saudi Arabians are the chosen people of God.
During the joyous occasion of Amani’s birth, my sister Sara joined me in the pangs of delivery, giving birth to her second child, a daughter whom she and her husband, Asad, gave the name Nashwa, meaning ecstasy. While Amani has brought bliss into our lives, Nashwa is a loud and obnoxious girl, and has often introduced havoc into Sara and Asad’s happy home.
Many times I have secretly questioned Kareem about the fearful possibility that Amani was the true child of Sara and Asad, while Nashwa was of our blood, for Nashwa’s character is remarkably similar to mine. Amani, moreover, bears a startling resemblance to her Auntie Sara, whom she favors in both lovely countenance and calm spirit.
Could the staff at the hospital have accidentally mistaken our two daughters? Our children were born eleven hours apart, but Sara and I occupied adjoining royal suites. Infant confusion seemed likely to my mind. Many times over the years, Kareem has attempted to push away my fears, quoting meaningless statistics showing that such mix-ups rarely occur, but each time I gaze on my perfect child, I dread the thought that she belongs to another.
Amani, an absorbed and melancholy spirit, always treasured books more than toys, and from an early age was an enthusiastic student of art and language. Unlike her older sister Maha, Amani, for the most part, created little turbulence and instead generated tranquility and affection in our home.
While Amani’s sensitive soul had penetrated more deeply into my heart than that of her two older siblings, I nevertheless should have been alerted to the shadowed tenacity in her complex temperament. My daughter’s alarming penchant for animals caused open conflict with other members of our family. Her youthful devotion to all living creatures clashed with the Saudi male’s love of hunting and killing all creatures that inhabit our land. While Abdullah and his father gleefully joined other royal cousins in desert hunts, machine gunning gazelles and rabbits by the light of huge spotlights mounted on specially equipped Jeeps and open trucks, Amani crept into her father’s hunting room, hiding ammunition, successfully dismantling weapons, and tossing expensive firearms into the garbage. Because of Amani’s intense love of animals, she was willing to forgo her strong desire for family harmony.
This humane but troubling trait showed up at an early age. Owing to Amani’s fervor, our home was overrun with stray beasts of many species, sizes, and colors.
Most Arabs, unlike many Westerners, feel little devotion for animals, and starving and injured cats and dogs run wild on our city streets. Since the early 1980s there has been an active government policy in Saudi Arabia of collecting strays and abandoning these creatures in the desert to die slow and painful deaths. Yet many animals do outwit their slayers and manage to find a safe haven with those of tender nature.
While I appreciated and sympathized with Amani’s pressing compulsion to protect abused animals, Kareem and others in our home were greatly distressed that our property had become a sanctuary for strays. Not content with the mere act of saving their lives, Amani pampered these abandoned creatures as if they were rare and expensive breeds, and when they died, the animals were buried with solemn funeral rites in our garden. The surviving strays she had trained to be lap pets joined the family on our grounds and in our home.
Many times it seemed to me that Amani cared more for animals than she did for members of her own family, but I am a mother who has difficulty punishing or restraining her young, and Amani was allowed her one unfortunate idiosyncrasy.
Kareem employed two young men from Thailand to clean and disinfect after the animals and to train the dogs in obedience. We even took the extreme action of building our own small zoo on the grounds, equipping the facility with spacious caged areas and purchasing numerous breeds of exotic animals in the hope that Amani’s personal zoo would satisfy her need to collect and coddle large numbers of animals. Next to the zoo area, Kareem had a sizable area walled off for Amani’s strays. He commanded his daughter to restrict those animals to that special section of the yard. But after Amani had shed many tears, Kareem reluctantly agreed that she could select her ten favorite cats and dogs, which would be allowed inside our home and given free access to the general grounds area.
In spite of these efforts, our daughter remained alert to street strays, and these creatures invariably found their way to our door.
Once Kareem came home to a strange sight. Three Filipino men who worked for our neighbors were caught in the act of delivering five cats in a bag to one of the Thai zookeepers. Confronting the Filipinos, who were frightened into silence, Kareem was handed a flyer that stated our household would reward the bearer SR 100 for each stray cat or puppy. Kareem flew into a fit of wild anger. After he threatened the Thai employees with termination, they confessed to Kareem that Amani had instructed them to attach the reward flyers to the walls of neighboring palaces and villas. In addition, the two men had been told to roam the neighborhood streets, abducting cats and dogs, and to bring them to Amani. Our daughter had sworn the two men to secrecy, and since Kareem had employed them to work directly for our daughter, they had kept her confidence.
Kareem forced a head count of strays, and when he discovered that he was feeding over forty cats and twelve dogs, he slumped to the ground in a daze. After a long period, without a glance at his family, my husband came to his feet and, not speaking a word, left our home. We heard the wheels of his automobile spin as he left the neighborhood. He was away for two days and three nights. I later learned that Kareem had been visiting his parents during this time. I heard from gossipy servants that Kareem told his startled parents he must have a few days’ respite from the complex women in his life, or he would be forced to commit us all to an institution.
While Kareem was away, I decided I must find some manner of dulling my daughter’s extreme sensitivity to animals. I made many strange discoveries that had previously gone undetected. The forty cats were dining on fresh fish from the Red Sea, while the twelve dogs were treated to gourmet meats from an expensive Australian- supplied butcher shop. Amani had been appropriating money from the weekly funds that are deposited in a small cash box in the kitchen, money that our servants used for our personal shopping. Our household expenses are so enormous that our bookkeeper had failed to notice the sum taken by our daughter to be used for her animals. When I discovered that Amani was using large amounts of money to purchase caged birds just in order to free them, I seriously threatened my child with visits to a psychiatrist, and for a while she became less involved with the animal kingdom.
I distinctly recall one dramatic occasion that involved my brother, Ali. In the past, Ali had made a point of complaining about Amani’s pets. He would grumble to me that no se
lf-respecting Muslim could enter my home for fear that the animals roaming at will would create a need for purification. Ali’s unmistakable dislike of animals evidently made an impression on the psyches of Amani’s greatly loved creatures, since the dogs generally made themselves scarce and hid in the bushes until my brother passed through the garden.
There was one particular incident that stands out in my mind. Ali dropped by our palace for a brief visit and had just entered the garden gate, when he stopped to order one of our servants to wash his car while he was visiting. While he was speaking, one of Amani’s favorite dogs, Napoleon, chose to lift his leg on Ali’s freshly laundered thobe. Ali, a vain man who is proud of his handsome and impeccable appearance, became speechless with rage. He kicked the poor creature brutally before Amani could rush to Napoleon’s rescue. My daughter was so infuriated that she flung herself on her uncle, beating him on his arms and chest with her fists.
Urinated upon by a dog and physically assaulted by his niece, Ali lost no time in leaving our home, shrieking to the smirking servants that not only was his sister completely mad, but she had given birth to demented children who preferred beasts over humans for companionship!
From that moment, Amani hated her Uncle Ali with the same intensity that I had hated my unfeeling brother as a young girl.
In the Muslim faith, a dog is considered impure, and that fact was a factor in Ali’s extreme anger and disgust. In the Islamic faith, if a dog drinks out of any container, it should be washed seven times, the first of which should be in water mixed with dust.
Ali is my only brother, and in spite of our continued explosive differences, he chooses to maintain a relationship with my family. Kareem forced Amani to telephone and apologize to her uncle, but the episode with Napoleon kept Ali away from our home for over two months. When he finally recovered from his anger and embarrassment, Ali returned for a visit, calling ahead to insist that our servants shut away Napoleon.
I was apprehensive about Amani’s anger, which I knew was thinly veiled, and was pleased with my daughter when she entered the sitting room on the day of Ali’s visit, playing hostess and offering her uncle a glass of freshly squeezed grapefruit Juice.
With an expression of relief over the forgotten incident, Ali said that he happened to be quite thirsty.
Noting the similarities between Sara and Amani, I beamed with motherly pride when my beautiful child graciously handed Ali a glass of juice and a plate of almond cookies. Her demeanor was above reproach. I gave her a happy smile, thinking to buy her a special present the next time that I went shopping.
Ali smiled his approval and commented that Amani would, one day, make some lucky man very happy. It was only after Ali left that I discovered Amani in her bedroom, laughing so loudly that the servants came from all around to learn the cause of her merriment.
Amani told an amazed audience that her uncle had drunk his juice out of a glass that had been licked clean by her entourage of stray pets! My daughter had filled the glass with cool water for her beasts prior to pouring juice for her uncle! Not only that, but she had given the recovered Napoleon a few licks on the cookies before serving them to Ali!
The servants grinned with satisfaction, for Ali is not a popular man with them.
While I tried to appear stern, my lips paid no heed, and my face trembled as I struggled to control my laughter. Giving up the charade of parental guidance, I held my daughter in my arms and roared uncontrollably.
For the first time in her life, Amani exhibited traits that led me to hope she was a child born of my body after all.
I know now that I should have scolded my child for a deed that would have caused Ali a heart attack had he known the truth, but I could barely control my glee. When I laughingly confided the story to Kareem, he had such a look of sheer horror at my amusement, that I knew my husband feared for the sanity of his loved ones.
Kareem’s patience snapped at my revelation. Seething with Muslim anger at the prank and disturbed by Amani’s preoccupation with animals, he declared that the large number of animals in our home was ruining his life, and he insisted that we sit down with our daughter and have a frank discussion about her apparent obsession.
Before I could respond, my husband spoke into the house intercom and instructed Amani to come into our living quarters immediately.
Together, Kareem and I waited for Amani in the sitting area that is attached to our master bedroom.
Amani’s black eyes sparkled with interest as she swept with sprightly grace into the room.
Before I could diffuse the situation, Kareem bluntly asked, “Amani, tell me, what is your object in life?”
Amani, with childlike serenity, replied without hesitation, “To save all the animals from man.”
“Saving animals is nothing more than a pampered passion of rich Europeans and Americans,” Kareem angrily responded. He looked at me as if I were to blame and said, “Sultana, I thought your child would be more intelligent.”
Amani’s eyes began to tear, and she asked to leave the room.
Uncomfortable with female tears, my husband thought better of his sarcastic tactics. Kareem tempered his approach and spoke with perfect seriousness. “And, Amani, after you save all the animals, of what consequence will you be to yourself, or to your family?”
Amani squeezed her lips together and looked off into space. Without responding, she gradually came back into our world. Unable to formulate her thoughts, she looked at her father and shrugged her shoulders.
Remaining wisely uncritical of her great love of animals, Kareem clarified the need for greater purpose in human life, to create and inspire those of our own kind. He reminded Amani that she could perform good deeds for four-legged beasts while still influencing civilization. He added, “Advancing civilization is the responsibility of those who are mistreated in a society, for only out of discontent with imperfection does mankind seek to better the society in which he lives.”
Amani scoffed at his message. She raised her voice and asked her father the obvious question, “In Saudi Arabia? What can a female do that will make a difference in this country?”
My daughter looked at me and waited for my expected agreement.
Just as I was about to argue with Kareem, he interrupted me and, to my astonishment, pointed me out to our daughter and said that I, as an unheard female in Saudi Arabia, had not reconciled myself to the life of a royal idler, but that I had become educated and was utilizing my knowledge to further women’s causes. He continued by saying that one day women’s roles would develop, and our influence would be felt outside the home.
Dumbfounded at Kareem’s words, I could add little to the conversation. Never before had my husband acknowledged the righteousness of my vision of freedom for women.
After a discussion of more than an hour, Amani promised her father that she would look beyond her furry friends and find a second, equally challenging purpose in her life.
As affectionate a child as ever lived, Amani kissed each of us good night, and said that she had much thinking to do. As she was closing our bedroom door, she turned back and, giving us a wonderful smile, said, “I love you, Dada, and, Mummy, you too,” bringing back to mind the innocent girl our youngest daughter still was.
Thrilled at what he declared a huge success, Kareem held me in his arms and spoke of his dreams for his daughters, as well as his son, saying that if it were up to him, “All the ridiculous restrictions placed upon the heads of women would disappear, just like magic.” Kareem snapped his fingers in the air and gave me a tender look.
Cynically I thought that there is nothing like a beloved daughter to induce a man to clamor for adjustments in an unfair world.
Longing for unaccustomed peace in a household of three lively children, I welcomed the idea of the peaceful family life that Kareem promised would come, now that Amani would surely get over her love affair with the world of animals.
Shortly afterward, the Gulf War began, followed by the culmination of M
aha’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 fulfill 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.
