by Jean Sasson
Not surprisingly, Amani refused every offer of hospitality. The four servants were all exceptionally pretty and dainty Filipinos. As I stared at those impossibly attractive young women, the idea struck me that Faddel must be truly obsessed with beauty. He seemed determined to surround himself only with beautiful objects, vistas, and people. Apparently, he had reached the conclusion that physically unattractive people were not welcome in paradise. I almost laughed aloud when I thought that if a handsome appearance should be the criterion for the key to paradise, Faddel was certain to be excluded. God had not blessed Faddel himself with good looks.
Amani startled me when she ran toward the window and squealed, “Look, there is a family of gazelles grazing on the lawn!”
Indeed, there were four gazelles. Did Faddel have a zoo?
“We’ll ask Khalidah to tour the gardens later,” I promised her. “There might be other animals you can see.”
“I want to see the horses,” Amani said determinedly.
“We shall, Daughter.”
I heard a silky rustling sound and looked up to see Khalidah, followed by Layla, entering the room. I had not seen Khalidah for several years, but her beauty had not diminished. In light of Faddel’s obvious preoccupation with all things beautiful, I was relieved for her that she was still stunning to look at. Otherwise, she would surely be divorced by her husband.
She was dressed in a gown covered with tiny white pearls, in a shade of green that perfectly set off her chestnut-colored hair and her amber eyes, which were flecked with gold. Her light-colored skin was too heavily made up to my liking, but it did nothing to lessen the impact of her lovely features.
I stood and met her embrace.
“Sultana!”
“Khalidah!”
Once our mutual greetings of peace and thanks to Allah for the good fortune of our health were completed, Maha presented Khalidah with our gifts.
Khalidah thanked us profusely and carefully set aside her gifts. She lifted three packages from a gift-laden table, and instructed Layla to deliver them to our driver. We could open our gifts later, after we returned home, she said.
Khalidah apologized that she was alone, explaining that her husband and her six sons were visiting at the palace of a friend, but would soon return. Miraculously, she had given birth only to sons, and for that feat alone, she was greatly admired and envied.
Khalidah was anxious to show us her home, and my daughters and I were happy to follow her throughout the vast complex of pavilions. Each pavilion consisted of a small apartment of rooms, each decorated with treasures of unimaginable beauty. My head was soon reeling from the details Khalidah provided us regarding the mosaic floors, wall murals, and painted ceilings.
Soon I wanted to escape this profusion of alabaster baths, jeweled vases, and silk coverings. I needed air and space, so I suggested that we go outside. “I have heard much about your beautiful gardens.”
“Yes, of course,” Khalidah agreed amiably. “Let’s sit in the garden.”
Amani reminded me, “And the stallions, Mother?”
Khalidah reacted strangely to Amani’s request. Despite her heavy make-up, her face suddenly turned pale. Her voice trembled, “Well, that is a domain for men, Amani.”
“I like horses, and I am not a man,” Amani said indignantly.
“Amani!” I warned, as I looked at Khalidah warily. “We have other places to visit. We will only look at the gardens today.”
I was not that well-acquainted with this cousin, but I knew that few people were accustomed to such an unruly child as Amani.
“Come, let us go to the gardens,” Khalidah said graciously, ignoring my daughter’s rude behavior.
Maha said that she needed to visit the bathroom, and that she would join us later. Layla had returned from her errand, and she led Maha from the room.
I saw that in her anger Amani’s lips were now puffed in a most unattractive pout. When she walked beside me, I pinched her arm as a signal that she hold her temper and her tongue.
Khalidah then led us down a broad pebbled path bordered by a thick hedge. We could see the garden long before we arrived, and as I had expected, it proved to be exquisite. Trees lined the perimeter, and a froth of blooming bushes and flowers grew in every corner. We could smell the strong scent of the flowers’ perfume even as we strolled through the garden.
Terraced flowerbeds gave way to small ponds filled with exotic fish; a series of carefully constructed brooks bubbled with the soothing sound of running water all around us. I was truly dazzled.
An artfully designed gazebo caught my eye. “Can we sit?”
“Certainly, whatever is your pleasure.”
Just as I was about to sit down, suddenly Amani gave a small cry. She had noticed cages filled with birds nearby.
I followed her gaze. Small cages, each holding far too many birds, were swinging from the limbs of every tree.
Amani rushed toward the cages.
“You have many birds, Khalidah,” I said uneasily, all the while watching Amani dart frantically from one cage to the next.
Khalidah seemed mesmerized by Amani’s small scurrying form. She sounded as one in a trance. “Yes. Faddel believes that paradise is filled with many song birds.”
Even at a distance, I could see the fury on Amani’s face.
I called out. “Amani? Amani, please join us, darling.”
With fists clenched in anger, Amani ran toward Khalidah, and began shouting, “Their cages are too small! There’s not enough food and water!”
Khalidah appeared momentarily stunned by my daughter’s rudeness, and words failed her.
“Amani!” I admonished, “You must apologize!”
Tears were streaming down Amani’s face. “Some of the birds are dead!” I turned to Khalidah and made an attempt to lighten the situation. “Do not mind Amani. All creatures are a source of endless fascination to my daughter.”
Amani looked at me disdainfully as though I were a traitor. “The cages are too small! There’s not enough food!”
“Amani! I order you to apologize. Now!”
In an effort to appease my child, Khalidah stammered, “But…my dear, there are birds in paradise.”
My daughter screamed so loudly that the veins on her neck and forehead were visible under her skin. “Birds in paradise fly free!”
Khalidah’s hands were clutching at her throat.
Amani was becoming hysterical. “They fly free, I tell you! Birds in paradise fly free! You are cruel to have them so confined!”
“Amani! Enough!” I started toward my daughter, prepared to give her a good shaking. It was time to take her home.
Khalidah kept her hand at her throat and said helplessly, “But, I tell you, Amani, there are birds in paradise. I am sure of it.”
Amani glared at her with hatred. Her voice was filled with contempt. “You will never find out! Your wicked eyes will never see true paradise!”
Overwhelmed at such unexpected aggression, Khalidah fell over in a faint.
I watched in horror as Amani, seeing her chance, darted from one cage to another. She was removing the cages from the trees!
As I knelt down to try to rouse Khalidah, Maha came running down the path toward me in a state of agitation. Her voice was loud in indignation. “Mother, did you know that Cousin Faddel has imprisoned a group of young girls? He has a harem of young women! They are held captive in one of the pavilions!”
Alarmed and shocked, I could only stare at Maha.
It was then that Maha noticed the fallen Khalidah.
“What has happened to Cousin Khalidah?”
I astonished myself with my calm tone. “Amani insulted her. Khalidah fainted.” I gestured toward the palace, “Now, go quickly and get some help.”
“But, what about those poor girls?”
“Hush, Maha! We’ll deal with that problem later.” I looked down at Khalidah, and was relieved to see that she was still breathing. I ordered Maha, “Go! Get help! Now
!”
Maha ran toward the palace, shouting Layla’s name.
Amid the turmoil and confusion I saw Amani leave the garden, struggling with an unwieldy load. It took some moments to comprehend that my daughter was in the process of appropriating Faddel’s caged birds!
I cried, “Oh Allah!” I then called out, “Amani! Amani! Come back!”
Grappling with as many cages as she could possibly carry, Amani disappeared from sight.
Chapter Six
Birds of Paradise
I once heard someone say that we do not remember days of our lives, but we do remember moments. I know it is true, for I have lived such “peak” moments myself.
Desperation swept through me now, though, as I held Khalidah’s head in my lap. I strained to look for Maha, waiting impatiently for her return. Helpless, I could only watch Amani’s small body dashing hurriedly back and forth through the garden, on forays collecting birdcages crowded with chirping birds. Such a moment I will never forget!
Maha finally returned to the garden with Layla at her side. Three Egyptian men followed closely behind. I could only assume that these men were servants employed by Faddel.
Layla had already been alerted by Maha of Khalidah’s plight, so she quickly rushed to assist me in my so-far-futile efforts to revive her mistress. The three men watched uneasily as they stood silently around the limp figure of Khalidah.
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.”
&
nbsp; 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.
