PRINCESS
A True Story of Life
Behind the Veil in Saudi Arabia
Jean Sasson
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Published by:
Jean Sasson at Smashwords
Copyright (c) 2004-2011 by Jean Sasson
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All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
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For additional information about Jean Sasson and her books, or for updates on Princess Sultana, women’s issues, and Saudi Arabia, please visit the following websites:
Author’s website: http://www.JeanSasson.com
Princess Sultana’s website: http://www.PrincessSultanasCircle.com
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To Jack
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(c) 2004 by The Sasson Corporation
Published by arrangement with the author
All rights reserved. This book may not be duplicated in any way without the express written consent of the author, except in the form of brief excerpts or quotations for the purposes of review. The information contained herein is for the personal use of the reader and many not be incorporated in any commercial programs or other books, databases, or any other kind of software without the written consent of the publisher or author. Making copies of this book, or any portion of it, for any purpose other than your own, is a violation of United States copyright laws.
Cover Design by Lightbourne
Book Design by Rosamond Grupp
Front Cover Model’s Photograph by Marco Baldi for Studio Babaldi
Author Photograph by Peter M.M. Sasson
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A note to readers from Jean Sasson
Since the revolutions in Egypt and Tunisia, the violence in Libya, and the unrest spreading through Bahrain, Yemen, and Iran, I’ve received many letters from readers who are turning to PRINCESS and its sequels, PRINCESS SULTANA’S DAUGHTERS and PRINCESS SULTANA’S CIRCLE. My readers want to know whether the conditions described in the PRINCESS trilogy still reflect how women are treated in the Middle East. I will now answer that question in this introduction.
As most people now know, it’s impossible to describe the various countries of the Middle East as one region. Although joined in spirit through the Islamic faith, and with the pull of traditional values remaining strong in most Middle Eastern lands, the cultural expectations in each country can still be vastly different from the others. While some governments have allowed humanitarian gains for their female populations, others have walked back in time. Therefore, I’ll take you with me on a short walk through a number of Middle Eastern countries, providing a brief description of life for women in the year 2011.
In Algeria, women mainly stay in the home with a mere 7% of women working outside the home. Men even take care of the shopping. Marriages are still arranged by the parents of the couple, with the union considered to be a family affair, rather than a relationship between one man and one woman. Women are considered weak, and in need of male protection. Women are allowed to run for public office, but few make such attempts. In fact, Algerian law considers women permanent minors, requiring the consent of their husbands or fathers for most activities. Therefore, life for women in Algeria is still very limited when it comes to public life, and females are kept tightly under the rule of men.
In Bahrain, approximately 20% of women work outside the home, although this is changing as more women graduate from college. Although Bahrain is considered more liberal than most Middle Eastern countries, most men still consider women weak, requiring male protection. Arranged marriages are the norm although the bride and groom are often allowed supervised meetings prior to the wedding. Women are allowed to drive. There is great hope that women will continue to move forward in Bahrain.
In Egypt women work outside the home, drive automobiles and enjoy many freedoms other Arab women yearn for. Yet, there are many unsolved problems facing Egyptian women. Female circumcision is not uncommon in many regions of the country, although the more educated families have turned away from that appalling custom. Many Egyptian women complain of rampant groping should they make a trip to the market without their husbands or a male escort. Although Egyptian women recently stood shoulder-to-shoulder with their men when calling out for democracy, now that the constitution is being re-written, women have been left out of the process.
In the Gaza Strip things are going from bad to worse for women. Due to the never-ending exchange of violence with Israel, life has always been difficult, but after the election of Hamas, life grew even more rigid for women. Hamas campaigned for “Taliban like laws”, including total segregation of women and men, and the wearing of the total Hijab. (Women in Gaza had always had the right for personal choice when it came to veiling.) Since the Hama election, some government officials have attempted to impose the most severe penalties should women not adhere to strict Islamic dress and other restrictions against the civil population, such as the promotion of polygamy, card-playing, and dating. Clearly, Palestinian women in Gaza need someone to take up their cause.
In Iraq and in Iraqi Kurdistan, women’s rights have taken many twists and turns since the overthrow of the Saddam Hussein government. Few people realize that Iraqi women had achieved great gains in rights under the dictator. In fact, a 1958 law allowed Iraqi women to divorce their husbands, inherit property, study, work, and even move without the permission of the male member of the family. After the latest government came into power, women lost all previous gains. With regional control held by various tribes, women are beaten for not covering themselves in Hijab, and the act of rape is being used as a weapon by tribal factions at war. It is said by many Iraqis that Iraqi women risk their lives by studying or working.
In Iraqi Kurdistan, the message for women is mixed. Honor killings have reached an all-time high. In some cases, teenagers have even been killed for the crime of talking to a boy over their cell phone. Self-immolation is a huge problem, as well, and authorities are unsure whether the women are setting themselves on fire, or if they are victims of attempted murder by family members. However, the parliament has banned forced marriage, as well as the marriage of minors. And, polygamy has been restricted, much to the relief of many women. Despite the many set-backs, it appears that many men in Kurdistan are attempting to educate males regarding women’s rights and issues. Therefore hope reigns that the Kurdish parliament will continue ruling in favor of women’s issues.
Approximately 15% of the workforce in Jordan is female. Generally the female workers are single as married women are discouraged from working. Like most countries following Shariah law, divorced women lose custody of their sons when they reach age 7 and their daughters when they reach age 11. Currently the government is pushing to have the law changed so that children can remain with their mothers until age 12, with plans to make the age 15. Although women inherit, generally male relations pressure the women into giving up their inheritance. Because of this tendency, women own less than four percent of all property in Jordan. To the Jordanian government’s credit, they are introducing new legislation to regulate inequalities between men and women. Not surprisingly, many of the hard-line religious authorities are protesting such new policies.
Kuwait is considered to be one of the best countries for women in the Middle East. Women are allowed to drive, work without the consent of a man, acquire passports, travel out of the country, and even hold government positions, all without the consent of a male family member. Kuwaiti women even gained the right to vote in the local elections of 2005. While the family courts still require two women’s testimony to one man’s, that is not the case in the civil, criminal and administrative courts, where the testimony of a woman equals that of a man. While women still face some social and legal discrimination, the future for Kuwaiti women is bright indeed.
Although Lebanese family structure is strictly patriarchal, Lebanese women enjoy equal civil rights and attend colleges and universities in large numbers. Mainly this is due to the fact that women obtained the right to vote in 1953, although voting rights have not led to female participation in government and public life. Approximately three percent of parliament members are female; thus men continue to make decisions that affect women.
There are many distinctions evident according to women of different religious sects. Lebanon is one of the most diverse countries in the world with nearly 20 different religious sects. Christian girls can be seen sunbathing in bikinis on the beaches of Jounieh, while Muslim girls are sedately covered in Hijab. Therefore, the issue of women’s rights is complicated as there are different goals for different religious sects, making it almost impossible to create one law for all when it comes to women’s rights. Still, women are gaining ground with over 50 percent of college graduates female while 27 percent of the workforce is female.
Women in Qatar have made many remarkable advances, mainly due to the royal family of Qatar who established various women’s committees charged with proposing programs to upgrade the potential of women. Women in Qatar are allowed to vote and even run as government candidates. Women have even held positions in the cabinet. There are more female students at university than male students and women hold 52% of the jobs in the Ministry of Education. Women even outnumber men in the healthcare field. Of course, the society itself is very conservative, but the government is working to ensure that women are encouraged to pursue their personal goals.
Over the past few years women’s lives have greatly changed in the United Arab Emirates, as the ruling family has made women’s rights a priority. The UAE constitution guarantees equality between men and women. The numbers prove that great strides have been made for women as female graduates outnumber men two to one at the United Arab Emirates University. Although women were only 6 percent of the work force in 1988, those numbers are increasing. Most notably, the UAE ranked 29th among 177 countries when it comes to gender empowerment. While there is no guarantee that women have equal rights in their homes, the government is working to elevate the status of women.
Tragically, the women of Yemen face violence and discrimination in their lives. Women are not free to choose their husbands, and in many cases, girls as young as eight years old are married against their will. Once a woman is married, she has no rights, but must obey her husband and ask his permission for everything—even in matters as harmless and simple as leaving her house.. When women testify in court, their testimony is valued half that of a male. If a woman is married, her value is compensated half that of a male. Honor killings hang like a sword over the head of a woman if there is gossip about her behavior. While men are treated leniently, women will be put to death if there is an accusation of any “immoral” act. The government has made some small moves to improve the status of women, such as creating a ministry of human rights. But reforms for women in Yemen are still urgently needed.
As far as Saudi Arabia, I am pleased to report that in the years since I first met Princess Sultana, and I lived in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, a few things have changed. The current king, Abdullah, is a man of common sense who is using his position of authority to help. Princess Sultana also tells me that two of her cousins, King Abdullah’s daughters, encourage their father to pursue this important course, which has opened the way for more Saudi women to seek recourse when treated harshly.
But while I’ve been impressed with King Abdullah and his belief in change for Saudi women, ultra-conservative forces are still influential in the kingdom, insisting on the heavy restrictions of old. Although the Koran calls only for modesty in dress, many Saudi women are still veiling. And though there is no precedent in the Islamic faith for a law forbidding women to drive, Saudi women are bound by such a law. Even more puzzling, 58% of Saudi college graduates are female, but since they are not allowed to work or mingle with men not of their family, only 5% of the workforce is comprised of women. And while Islam gives females the right to refuse an unwanted marriage, many young girls in Saudi Arabia still endure the horror of arranged marriages with men double or triple their age.
As Princess Sultana often tells me, there is much to be done when it comes to the lives of women, not just in Saudi Arabia, but all over the world. It is up to us, individuals with the freedom to express our beliefs, to help these women in any way we can.
The trilogy about a feisty Saudi princess has changed lives across the globe in creating awareness and change. Students have written to tell me that their universities now offer more courses for women’s issues. Mothers are doing their part by raising sons to look upon their sisters as equals and to treat all women with respect. I am overjoyed to see that Princess Sultana’s life has struck a chord with women of every age and nationality, stoking the desire for change and transforming that desire into action.
Working together, we can make a huge difference in the role of women worldwide. I urge you to join Princess Sultana and me in our cherished goal of living in a world where every female has the right to a life of dignity.
I would like to tell readers that Princess Sultana spoke with her publisher and me during the past week. She is delighted that her story is now going digital.
As a writer, and as a friend, I am proud to be the voice for Princess Sultana.
Jean Sasson
March 2011
The following is a personal letter from Princess Sultana, translated from French to English
My dear readers,
Years have passed since the world learned of my life. I am humbled by the enormous care and concern you have had for me and other women like me. I thank you from my whole heart.
As I write these words, I am smiling with contentment that you are about to read the story of my childhood and early marriage. Since I was a young girl, unloved by my father, and tortured by a cruel older brother, I longed for the opportunity to tell the entire world how too many young Saudi girls live lives clouded by sadness or anger that their brothers are greatly loved while they, as females, are merely endured.
Remember this, I have lived my life as a princess, and still I have had few options. My father only loved his sons. I wanted to be loved by my father, but nothing I did or said made the slightest change in his indifference toward me.
Although uneducated, my parents were of the royal family, so I was provided with many things, such as education, and ample food, and beautiful gowns and jewels. I was surrounded by love given freely by my mother and my older sisters. The females in my family tried to protect me from my unkindly father and my cruel brother, but my own mischievous personality created many problems.
Although much good is now coming to women in Saudi Arabia, and for that I am so very happy, there are still young women in our country who are forced to become the 3rd or 4th wife of old men. I personally know of young women who have been instantly divorced after being afflicted by a serious illness. Some of these women are mothers and their terrorized children are taken from their arms to be raised by another woman. I know of young girls who have been put to death by members of their own family, often for nothing more than perceived misconduct.
I know too many tragic stories. You will learn these stories in the three books about my life, and the lives of the women I know.
You may ask: How does such cruelty continue in an oil-rich country so wealthy that every citizen should be educated and enlightened? I believe that most men in my land want to rule everyone around them, and in particular, to rule the women in their lives. Such actions are assisted by men of religion who purposely twist the words of our beloved prophet, Prophet Muhammad, (May Allah shower His blessings upon him and grant him salvation) for the sole purpose of keeping women in a subservient position.
I do thank God that that Saudi women are beginning to see genuine and good change.
For this we praise Allah and also thank our wise king, King Abdullah bin Abdulaziz Al Saud. Finally there is hope in our land, although there are some uneducated and cruel men who still treat their daughters and wives as property to dispose of as they will. As we Saudi women make advances, we need to look out of our closed world and see what is happening all over the world. Many women need our help. Our first step is to educate all females, so that they might take charge of their economic life. Our second step is help men to see that without strong and independent women, the world suffers.
As I learn more about the status of women worldwide, I have made the surprising discovery that women the world over are ill-treated by men. Some young girls from Laos and Cambodia and Thailand are forced into the sex slave trade. Female babies in China can be left on hillsides to starve. Midwives in India sometimes are paid to snap the spines of infant females, because the family only wants sons. Even American women can be murdered by jealous boyfriends or husbands.
I am often sorry that I know such things, for this knowledge makes me ill with grief.
I know that this is what we must do:
We must all work together to bring change to this earth.
We must persist until every female child is welcomed as joyously as a male child.
We must devote out time and energy to educate all our children, females as well as males.
We must support all women in their endeavors to help others. When you harm a woman, you harm the whole world.
I pray for Allah’s good blessings upon this quest.
Princess Sultana Al-Saud
Updated in November 2010
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Facts on Saudi Arabia
OFFICIAL TITLE: Kingdom of Saudi Arabia
AREA: 864,866 sq. miles
INDEPENDENCE: 23 September 1932 (unification)
CLIMATE: Harsh, dry desert with great extremes of temperature
POPULATION ESTIMATE: 28,686,633 (including 5,576,076 non-nationals workers)
GOVERNMENT TYPE: Absolute Monarchy (Al Sa’ud family)
POLITICAL PARTIES AND LEADERS: None allowed
CONSTITUTION: Governed according to Shari’a (Islamic Law)
LEGAL SYSTEM: Based on Islamic law, although several secular codes have been introduced. Commercial disputes are handled by special committees.
RELIGION: Muslim 100% (Does not allow other religions to be practiced)
LANGUAGE: Arabic (English often used in business transactions)
LIFE EXPECTANCY AT BIRTH: male: 66.11 years; female: 69.51 years
CURRENCY: 1 Saudi Riyal (SR) = 100 halalah
EXCHANGE RATES: Saudi Riyals (SR) per US $1–3.7450 (fixed rate since June 1986)
ECONOMY: Oil based economy with strong government controls over major economic activities. Saudi Arabia has the largest reserves of petroleum in the world. The country ranks as the largest exporter of petroleum, and plays a leading role in OPEC.
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BOOKS BY Jean Sasson
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Non-Fiction:
The Rape of Kuwait
Princess: A True Story of Life Behind the Veil in Saudi Arabia
Princess Sultana’s Daughters
Princess Sultana’s Circle
Mayada, Daughter of Iraq
Love in a Torn Land: A Kurdish Woman’s Story
Growing up Bin Laden: Osama’s Wife and Son Reveal their Secret World
For the Love of a Son: One Afghan Woman’s Quest for her Stolen Child
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Historical Fiction:
Ester’s Child
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To learn more about author Jean Sasson and the subjects of her books, log on to: www.jeansasson.com
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The story of Princess Sultana is true. While the words are those of the author, the story is that of the Princess. The shocking human tragedies described here are factual.
Readers should know that names have been changed and various events slightly altered to protect the well-being of recognizable individuals.
In telling this true story, it is not the intention of the author or of the Princess to demean the Islamic religion.
Introduction
In a land where kings still rule, I am a princess. You must know me only as Sultana. I cannot reveal my true name for fear harm will come to me and my family for what I am about to tell you. I am a Saudi princess, a member of the Royal Family of the House of Al Sa’ud, the current rulers of the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia. As a woman in a land ruled by men, I cannot speak directly to you. I have requested an American friend and writer, Jean Sasson, to listen to me and then to tell my story. I was born free, yet today I am in chains. Invisible, they were loosely draped and passed unnoticed until the age of understanding reduced my life to a narrow segment of fear. No memories are left to me of my first four years. I suppose I laughed and played as all young children do, blissfully unaware that my value, due to the absence of a male organ, was of no significance in the land of my birth.
To understand my life, you must know those who came before me. We present-day Al Sa’uds date back six generations to the days of the early emirs of the Nadj, the bedouin lands now part of the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia. These first Al Sa’uds were men whose dreams carried them no farther than the conquest of nearby desert lands and the adventures of night raids on neighboring tribes.
In 1891, disaster struck when the Al Sa’ud clan was defeated in battle and forced to flee the Nadj. Abdul Aziz, who would one day be my grandfather, was a child at this time. He barely survived the hardships of that desert flight. Later, he would recall how he burned with shame as his father ordered him to crawl into a large bag that was then slung over the saddle horn of his camel. His sister, Nura, was cramped into another bag hanging from the other side of their father’s camel. Bitter that his youth prevented him from fighting to save his home, the angry young man peered from the bag as he swayed with the gait of the camel. It was a turning point in his young life, he would later recall, as he, humiliated by his family’s defeat, watched the haunting beauty of his homeland disappear from view.
After two years of nomadic desert travel, the family of Al Sa’uds found refuge in the country of Kuwait. The life of a refugee was so distasteful to Abdul Aziz that he vowed from an early age to recapture the desert sands he had once called home. So it was that in September 1901, twenty-five-year-old Abdul Aziz returned to our land. On January 16, 1902, after months of hardship, he and his men soundly defeated his enemies, the Rasheeds.
In the years to follow, to ensure the loyalty of the desert tribes, Abdul Aziz married more than three hundred women, who in time produced more than fifty sons and eighty daughters. The sons of his favorite wives held the honor of favored status; these sons, now grown, are at the very center of power in our land. No wife of Abdul Aziz was more loved than Hassa Sudairi. The sons of Hassa now head the combined forces of Al Sa’uds to rule the kingdom forged by their father. Fahd, one of these sons, is now our king. Many sons and daughters married cousins of the prominent sections of our family such as the Al Turkis, Jiluwis, and Al Kabirs. The present-day princes from these unions are among influential Al Sa’uds. Today, in 1991, our extended family consists of nearly twenty-one thousand members. Of this number, approximately one thousand are princes or princesses who are direct descendants of the great leader, King Abdul Aziz.
I, Sultana, am one of these direct descendants. My first vivid memory is one of violence. When I was four years old, I was slapped across the face by my usually gentle mother. Why? I had imitated my father in his prayers. Instead of praying to Makkah, I prayed to my six-year-old brother, Ali. I thought he was a god. How was I to know he was not? Thirty-two years later, I remember the sting of that slap and the beginning of questions in my mind: If my brother was not a god, why was he treated like one? In a family of ten daughters and one son, fear ruled our home: fear that cruel death would claim the one living male child; fear that no other sons would follow; fear that God had cursed our home with daughters. My mother feared each pregnancy, praying for a son, dreading a daughter. She bore one daughter after another—until there were ten in all.
My mother’s worst fear came true when my father took another, younger wife for the purpose of giving him more precious sons. The new wife of promise presented him with three sons, all stillborn, before he divorced her. Finally, though, with the fourth wife, my father became wealthy with sons. But my elder brother would always be the firstborn, and, as such, he ruled supreme. Like my sisters, I pretended to revere my brother, but I hated him as only the oppressed can hate.
When my mother was twelve years old, she was married to my father. He was twenty. It was 1946, the year after the great world war that interrupted oil production had ended. Oil, the vital force of Saudi Arabia today, had not yet brought great wealth to my father’s family, the Al Sa’uds, but its impact on the family was felt in small ways. The leaders of great nations had begun to pay homage to our king. The British prime minister, Winston Churchill, had presented King Abdul Aziz with a luxurious Rolls Royce. Bright green, with a throne-like backseat, the automobile sparkled like a jewel in the sun. Something about the automobile, as grand as it was, obviously disappointed the king, for upon inspection, he gave it to one of his favorite brothers, Abdullah.
Abdullah, who was my father’s uncle and close friend, offered him this automobile for his honeymoon trip to Jeddah. He accepted, much to the delight of my mother, who had never ridden in an automobile. In 1946—and dating back untold centuries—the camel was the usual mode of transportation in the Middle East. Three decades would pass before the average Saudi rode with comfort in an automobile, rather than astride a camel. Now, on their honeymoon, for seven days and nights, my parents happily crossed the desert trail to Jeddah. Unfortunately, in my father’s haste to depart Riyadh, he had forgotten his tent; because of this oversight and the presence of several slaves, their marriage remained unconsummated until they arrived in Jeddah.
That dusty, exhausting trip was one of my mother’s happiest memories. Forever after, she divided her life into “the time before the trip” and “the time after the trip.” Once she told me that the trip had been the end of her youth, for she was too young to understand what lay ahead of her at the end of the long journey. Her parents had died in a fever epidemic, leaving her orphaned at the age of eight. She had been married at the age of twelve to an intense man filled with dark cruelties. She was ill-equipped to do little more in life than his bidding.
After a brief stay in Jeddah, my parents returned to Riyadh, for it was there that the patriarchal family of the Al Sa’uds continued their dynasty.
My father was a merciless man; as a predictable result, my mother was a melancholy woman. Their tragic union eventually produced sixteen children, of whom eleven survived perilous childhoods. Today, their ten female offspring live their lives controlled by the men to whom they are married. Their only surviving son, a prominent Saudi prince and businessman with four wives and numerous mistresses, leads a life of great promise and pleasure.
From my reading, I know that most civilized successors of early cultures smile at the primitive ignorance of their ancestors. As civilization advances, the fear of freedom for the individual is overcome through enlightenment. Human society eagerly rushes to embrace knowledge and change. Astonishingly, the land of my ancestors is little changed from that of a thousand years ago. Yes, modern buildings spring up, the latest health care is available to all, but consideration for women and for the quality of their lives still receives a shrug of indifference.
It is wrong, however, to blame our Muslim faith for the lowly position of women in our society. Although the Koran does state that women are secondary to men, much in the same way the Bible authorizes men to rule over women, our Prophet Mohammed taught only kindness and fairness toward those of my sex. The men who came behind Prophet Mohammed have chosen to follow the customs and traditions of the Dark Ages rather than to follow Mohammed’s words and example. Our Prophet scorned the practice of infanticide, a common custom in his day of ridding the family of unwanted females. Prophet Mohammed’s very words ring with his concern at the possibility of abuse and indifference toward females: “Whoever hath a daughter, and doth not bury her alive, or scold her, or prefer his male children to her, may God bring him into Paradise.”
Yet there is nothing men will not do, there is nothing they have not done, in this land to ensure the birth of male, not female, offspring. The worth of a child born in the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia is still measured by the absence or the presence of a male organ.
The men of my country feel they are what they have had to become. In Saudi Arabia, the pride of a man’s honor evolves from his women, so he must enforce his authority and supervision over the sexuality of his women or face public disgrace. Convinced that women have no control over their own sexual desires, it then becomes essential that the dominant male carefully guard the sexuality of the female. This absolute control over the female has nothing to do with love, only with fear of the male’s tarnished honor.
The authority of a Saudi male is unlimited; his wife and children survive only if he desires. In our homes, he is the state. This complex situation begins with the rearing of our young boys. From an early age, the male child is taught that women are of little value: They exist only for his comfort and convenience. The child witnesses the disdain shown his mother and sisters by his father; this open contempt leads to his scorn of all females, and makes it impossible for him to enjoy friendship with anyone of the opposite sex. Taught only the role of master to slave, it is little wonder that by the time he is old enough to take a mate, he considers her his chattel, not his partner.
And so it comes to be that women in my land are ignored by their fathers, scorned by their brothers, and abused by their husbands. This cycle is difficult to break, for the men who impose this life upon their women ensure their own marital unhappiness. For what man can be truly content surrounded by such misery? It is evident that the men of my land are searching for gratification by taking one wife after the other, followed by mistress after mistress. Little do these men know that their happiness can be found in their own home, with one woman of equality. By treating women as slaves, as property, men have made themselves as unhappy as the women they rule, and have made love and true companionship unattainable to both sexes.
The history of our women is buried behind the black veil of secrecy. Neither our births nor our deaths are made official in any public record. Although births of male children are documented in family or tribal records, none are maintained anywhere for females. The common emotion expressed at the birth of a female is either sorrow or shame. Although hospital births and government record keeping are increasing, the majority of rural births take place at home. No country census is maintained by the government of Saudi Arabia.
I have often asked myself, does this mean that we women of the desert do not exist, if our coming and our passing goes unrecorded? If no one knows of my existence, does that mean I do not exist? This fact, more than the injustices of my life, has prompted me to take this very real risk in order to tell my story. The women of my country may be hidden by the veil and firmly controlled by our stern patriarchal society, but change will have to come, for we are a sex that is weary of the restraints of customs. We yearn for our personal freedom.
From my earliest memories, aided by the secret diary I began to keep at the age of eleven, I will try to give you some portrayal of the life of a princess in the House of Al Sa’ud. I will attempt to uncover the buried lives of other Saudi women, the millions of ordinary women not born of the Royal Family.
My passion for the truth is simple, for I am one of those women who were ignored by their fathers, scorned by their brothers, and abused by their husbands. I am not alone in this. There are many more, just like me, who have no opportunity to tell their stories. It is rare that truth escapes from a Saudi palace, for there is great secrecy in our society, but what I have spoken here and what the author has written here are true.
Chapter One: Childhood
Ali slapped me to the ground, but I declined to hand over the shiny red apple just given me by the Pakistani cook. Ali’s face began to swell with anger as I hovered over the apple and quickly began to take huge bites and swallow them whole. Refusing to give in to his male prerogative of superiority, I had committed a grave act and knew that I would soon suffer the consequences. Ali gave me two swift kicks and went running for our father’s driver, Omar, an Egyptian. My sisters feared Omar almost as much as they did Ali or my father. They disappeared into the villa, leaving me alone to face the combined wrath of the men of the house. Moments later, Omar, followed by Ali, rushed through the side gate. I knew they would be the victors, for my young life was already rich with precedent. I had learned at an early age that Ali’s every wish would be fulfilled. Nevertheless, I swallowed the last bite of the apple and looked in triumph at my brother. Struggling vainly in the grasp of Omar’s huge hands, I was lifted into the air and transported to my father’s study. Reluctantly, my father looked up from his black ledger and glanced with irritation at his seemingly ever-present, unwanted daughter while holding out his arms in invitation to that treasured jewel, his eldest son.
Ali was allowed to speak, while I was forbidden to respond. Overwhelmed with desire for my father’s love and approval, my courage was suddenly reborn. I shouted out the truth of the incident. My father and brother were stunned into silence at my outburst, for females in my world are reconciled to a stern society that frowns upon the voicing of our opinions. All women learn at an early age to manipulate rather than to confront. The fires in the hearts of the once proud and fierce bedouin women have been extinguished; soft women who bear little resemblance to them remain in their stead.
The fear curled in my belly when I heard the shouting of my voice. My legs trembled under my body when my father arose from his chair, and I saw the movement of his arm but never felt the blow to my face.
As punishment, Ali was given all my toys. To teach me that men were my masters, my father decreed that Ali would have the exclusive right to fill my plate at mealtimes. The triumphant Ali gave me the tiniest of portions and the worst cuts of meat. Each night, I went to sleep hungry, for Ali placed a guard at my door and ordered him to forbid me to receive food from my mother or my sisters. My brother taunted me by entering my room at midnight laden with plates steaming with the delicious smells of cooked chicken and hot rice.
Finally Ali wearied of his torture, but from that time on, when he was only nine years old, he was my devoted enemy. Although I was only seven years old, as a result of “the apple incident,” I first became aware that I was a female who was shackled by males unburdened with consciences. I saw the broken spirits of my mother and sisters, but I remained faithful to optimism and never doubted that I would one day triumph and my pain would be compensated by true justice. With this determination, from an early age, I was the family troublemaker.
There were pleasant times in my young life too. My happiest hours were spent at the home of my mother’s aunt. Widowed, too old for further notice and thus complications from men, she was now merry and filled with wonderful stories from her youth of the days of the tribal battles. She had witnessed the birth of our nation and mesmerized us with the tales of the valor of King Abdul Aziz and his followers. Sitting cross-legged on priceless Oriental carpets, my sisters and I nibbled on date pastries and almond cakes while immersed in the drama of the great victories of our kinsmen. My auntie inspired me to new pride in my family as she told of the Al Sa’uds’ bravery in battle.
In 1891, my mother’s family had accompanied the Al Sa’ud clan in their flight from Riyadh when they were defeated by the Rasheed clan. Ten years later, male members of her family returned with Abdul Aziz to recapture the land; my auntie’s brother fought alongside Abdul Aziz. This show of loyalty ensured their entry into the Royal Family by the marriages of their daughters. The stage was set for my destiny as a princess.
In my youth, my family was privileged, though not yet wealthy. The income from oil production ensured that food was plentiful and medical care available, which at that time in our history seemed the greatest of luxuries.
We lived in a large villa, made of concrete blocks painted snowy white. Each year, the sandstorms turned the white to cream, but father’s slaves would dutifully repaint the sand-colored stones white. The thirty-feet-high block walls surrounding our grounds were maintained in the same fashion. The childhood home I took for granted was a mansion by Western standards, yet, in looking back, it was a simple dwelling by today’s Saudi royal expectations. As a child, I felt our family home was too large for warm comfort. The long hallways were dark and forbidding. Rooms of various shapes and sizes branched off, concealing the secrets of our lives. Father and Ali lived in the men’s quarters on the second floor. I used to peer into their quarters with the curiosity of the child I was. Dark red velvet curtains closed out the sunlight. A smell of Turkish tobacco and whiskey embraced the heavy atmosphere. One timid look and then with a rush I would return to the women’s quarters on the ground floor, where my sisters and I occupied a large wing. The room I shared with Sara faced the women’s private garden. Mother had the room painted a bright yellow; as a result, it had the glow of life that was so glaringly absent in the rest of the villa.
The family servants and slaves lived in tiny, airless rooms in a separate dwelling set apart at the back of the garden. While our villa was air-conditioned, the servants’ quarters were ill-equipped for enduring the hot desert climate. I remember the foreign maids and drivers speaking of their dread of bedtime. Their only relief from the heat was the breeze generated by small electric fans. Father said that if he provided their quarters with air-conditioning, they would sleep the whole day through.
Only Omar slept in a small room in the main house. A long golden cord hung in the main entrance of our villa. This cord was connected to a cowbell in Omar’s room. When Omar was needed, he would be summoned by the ringing of this bell; the sound of the bell, day or night, would bring him to his feet and to Father’s door. Many times, I must admit, I rang the bell during Omar’s naps, or in the middle of the night. Then, lungs bursting, I would rush to my bed and lay quiet, an innocent child sleeping soundly. One night my mother was waiting for me as I raced for the bed. With disappointment etched on her face at the misdeeds of her youngest child, she twisted my ear and threatened to tell Father. But she never did.
Since my grandfather’s day, we owned a family of Sudanese slaves. Our slave population increased each year when Father returned from Haj, the annual pilgrimage to Makkah made by Muslims, with new slave children. Pilgrims from Sudan and Nigeria, attending Haj, would sell their children to wealthy Saudis so that they could afford the return journey to their homeland. Once in my father’s care, the slaves were not bought and sold in the manner of the American slaves; they participated in our home life and in my father’s businesses as if they were their own. The children were our playmates and felt no compulsion to servitude. In 1962, when our government freed the slaves, our Sudanese family actually cried and begged my father to keep them. They live in my father’s home to this day.
My father kept alive the memory of our beloved king, Abdul Aziz. He spoke about the great man as if he saw him each day. I was shocked, at the age of eight, to be told the old king had died in 1953, three years before I was born!
After the death of our first king, our kingdom was in grave danger, for the old king’s hand-picked successor, his son Sa’ud, was sadly lacking in qualities of leadership. He extravagantly squandered most of the country’s oil wealth on palaces, cars, and trinkets for his wives. As a result, our new country was sliding toward political and economic chaos.
I recall one occasion in 1963, when the men of the ruling family gathered in our home. I was a very curious seven-year-old at the time. Omar, my father’s driver, burst into the garden with a manner of great importance and shouted for the women to go upstairs. He waved his hands at us as if he were exorcising the house of beasts and literally herded us up the stairwell and into a small sitting room. Sara, my older sister, pleaded with my mother for permission to hide behind the arabesque balcony for a rare glimpse of our rulers at work. While we frequently saw our powerful male uncles and cousins at casual family gatherings, never were we present in the midst of important matters of state. Of course, at the time of each female’s menses and subsequent veiling, the cutoff from any males other than father and brothers was sudden and complete.
Our lives were so cloistered and boring that even our mother took pity on us. That day, she actually joined her daughters on the floor of the hallway to peek through the balcony and listen to the men in the large sitting room below us. I, as the youngest, was held in my mother’s lap. As a precaution, she lightly placed her fingers on my lips. If we were caught, my father would be furious. My sisters and I were captivated by the grand parade of the brothers, sons, grandsons, and nephews of the deceased king. Large men in flowing robes, they gathered quietly with great dignity and seriousness. The stoic face of Crown Prince Faisal drew our attention. Even to my young eyes, he appeared sad and terribly burdened. By 1963, all Saudis were aware that Prince Faisal competently managed the country while King Sa’ud ruled incompetently. It was whispered that Sa’ud’s reign was only a symbol of the family unity so fiercely protected. The feeling was that it was an odd arrangement, unfair to the country and to Prince Faisal, and unlikely to last.
Prince Faisal stood apart from the group. His usual quiet voice rose above the din as he asked that he be allowed to speak on matters that were of grave importance to the family and the country. Prince Faisal feared that the throne so difficult to attain would soon be lost. He said that the common people were tiring of the excesses of the Royal Family, and that there was talk not only of ousting their brother Sa’ud for his decadence but of turning away from the entire Al Sa’ud clan and choosing instead a man of God for leadership.
Prince Faisal looked hard at the younger princes when he stated in a clear, sure voice that their disregard for the traditional life-style of bedouin believers would topple the throne. He said his heart was heavy from sadness that so few of the younger royals were willing to work, content to live on their monthly stipend from the oil wealth. A long pause ensued as he waited for comments from his brothers and relatives. As none seemed to be forthcoming, he added that if he, Faisal, were at the controls of the oil wealth, the flow of money to the princes would be cut and honorable work would be sought. He nodded his head at his brother Mohammed and sat down with a sigh. From the balcony, I noticed the nervous squirming of several youthful cousins. Even though the largest monthly stipend was no more than ten thousand dollars, the men of the Al Sa’ud clan grew increasingly wealthy from the land. Saudi Arabia is a huge country, and most of the property belongs to our family. In addition, no building contracts are signed without benefit to one of our own.
Prince Mohammed, the third eldest living brother, began to speak, and from what we could gather, King Sa’ud had now insisted on the return of absolute power that had been taken from him in 1958. He was rumored to be in the countryside, speaking out against his brother Faisal. It was a devastating moment for the family of Al Sa’ud, for its members had always shown a unified front to the citizens of Saudi Arabia.
I remember when my father had told the story of why the eldest living son after Faisal, Mohammed, was passed over as successor to the throne. The old king had declared that if Mohammed’s disposition were backed by the power of the Crown, many men would die, for Mohammed’s violent temper was well known.
My attention returned to the meeting and I heard Prince Mohammed say that the monarchy itself was endangered; he approached the possibility of physically overthrowing the king and installing Prince Faisal in his stead. Prince Faisal gasped so loudly that the sound stifled Mohammed. Faisal seemed to be weeping as he spoke quietly. He told his kin that he had given his beloved father a deathbed promise that he would never oppose the rule of his brother. In no event would he consider breaking the promise, not even if Sa’ud bankrupted the country. If talk of ousting his brother was going to be the heart of the meeting, then he, Faisal, would have to depart.
There was a hum of voices as the men of our family agreed that Mohammed, the eldest brother next to Faisal, should attempt to reason with our king. We watched as the men toyed with their coffee cups and made vows of loyalty to their father’s wish that all the sons of Abdul Aziz would confront the world as a united force. As the traditional exchange of farewells began, we watched as the men filed as silently from the room as they had entered.
Little did I know that this meeting was the beginning of the end of the rule of my uncle, King Sa’ud. As history unfolded, and our family and countrymen watched in sadness, the sons of Abdul Aziz were forced to evict one of their own from his land. Uncle Sa’ud had become so desperate that in the end, he had sent a threatening note to his brother Prince Faisal. This one act sealed his fate, for it was unthinkable for one brother to insult or threaten another. In the unwritten rule of the bedouin, one brother never turns against the other.
A fevered crisis erupted within the family, and the country. But we learned later that a revolution, sought by Uncle Sa’ud, had been averted by the soft approach of Crown Prince Faisal. He stepped aside and left it to his brothers and the men of religion to decide the best course of action for our young country. In doing so, he took away the personal drama of the movement so that it became a less volatile matter, with statesmen making appropriate decisions.
Two days later, we learned about the abdication from one of Uncle Sa’ud’s wives, for our father had been away at the time with his brothers and cousins. One of our favorite aunties, married to King Sa’ud, burst into our home in great agitation. I was shocked to see her rip her veil from her face in front of our male servants. She had arrived from the Nasriyah Palace, Uncle Sa’ud’s desert palace (an edifice that, to my mind, was a wonder of what endless money can buy and a ruinous example of what was wrong with our country).
My sisters and I gathered around our mother, for our auntie was now out of control and screaming accusations about the family. She was particularly incensed at Crown Prince Faisal and blamed him for her husband’s dilemma. She told us that the brothers of her husband had conspired to take the throne that had been given by their father to the one of his choice, Sa’ud. She cried out that the religious council, the Ulema, had arrived at the palace that very morning and had informed her husband that he must step aside as king.
I was entranced by the scene before me, for rarely do we view confrontation in our society. It is our nature to speak softly and agree with those before us and then to handle difficulties in a secret manner. When our auntie, who was a very beautiful woman with long black curls, began to tear out her hair and rip her expensive pearls from her neck, I knew this was a serious matter. Finally my mother had calmed her enough to lead her to the sitting room for a cup of soothing tea. My sisters gathered around the closed door and tried to hear their whispering. I kicked around the large clumps of hair with my toe and stooped to gather the large smooth pearls. I found myself with fistfuls of pearls and placed them in an empty vase in the hallway for safekeeping.
Mother guided our weeping auntie to her waiting black Mercedes. We all watched as the driver sped away with his inconsolable passenger. We never saw our auntie again, for she accompanied Uncle Sa’ud and his entourage into exile. But our mother did advise us against feeling harsh toward our uncle Faisal. She said that our auntie had uttered such words because she was in love with a kind and generous man, but such a man does not necessarily make the best ruler. She told us that Uncle Faisal was leading our country into a stable and prosperous era, and by doing so, he earned the wrath of those less capable. Although by Western standards my mother was uneducated, she was truly wise.
Chapter Two: Family
My mother, encouraged by King Faisal’s wife Iffat, managed to educate her daughters, despite my father’s resistance. For many years, my father refused even to consider the possibility. My five older sisters received no schooling other than to memorize the Koran from a private tutor who came to our home. For two hours, six afternoons a week, they would repeat words after the Egyptian teacher, Fatima, a stern woman of about forty-five years of age. She once asked my parents’ permission to expand my sisters’ education to include science, history, and math. Father responded with a firm no and the recital of the Prophet’s words, and his words alone continued to ring throughout our villa.
As the years passed, Father saw that many of the royal families were allowing their daughters the benefit of an education. With the coming of the great oil wealth, which relieved nearly all Saudi women, other than the bedouin tribes people and rural villagers, from any type of work, inactivity and boredom became a national problem. Members of the Royal Family are much wealthier than most Saudis, yet the oil wealth brought servants from the Far East and other poor regions into every home.
All children need to be stimulated, but my sisters and I had little or nothing to do other than to play in our rooms or lounge in the women’s gardens. There was nowhere to go and little to do, for when I was a child, there was not even a zoo or a park in the city.
Mother, weary of five energetic daughters, thought that school would relieve her while expanding our minds. Finally, Mother, with the assistance of Auntie Iffat, wore Father down to weak acceptance. And so it came to be that the five youngest daughters of our family, including Sara and myself, enjoyed the new age of reluctant acceptance of education for females.
Our first classroom was in the home of a royal relative. Seven families of the Al Sa’ud clan employed a young woman from Abu Dhabi, a neighboring Arab city in the Emirates. Our small group of pupils, sixteen in all, was known in those days as a Kutab, a group method then popular for teaching girls. We gathered daily in the home of our royal cousin from nine o’clock in the morning until two o’clock in the afternoon, Saturday through Thursday.
It was there that my favorite sister, Sara, first displayed her brilliance. She was much quicker than girls twice her age. The teacher even asked Sara if she was a primary graduate, and shook her head in wonder when she learned that Sara was not. Our instructor had been fortunate to have a modern-thinking father who had sent her to England for an education. Because of her deformity, a club-foot, she had found no one who would marry her, so she chose a path of freedom and independence for herself. She smiled as she told us that her deformed foot was a gift from God to ensure that her mind did not become deformed too. Even though she lived in the home of our royal cousin (it was and still is unthinkable for a single woman to live alone in Saudi Arabia), she earned a salary and made her decisions about life without outside influence.
I liked her simply because she was kind and patient when I forgot to do my lessons. Unlike Sara, I was not the scholarly type, and I was happy the teacher expressed little disappointment at my shortcomings. I was much more interested in drawing than in math, and in singing than in performing my prayers. Sara sometimes pinched me when I misbehaved, but after I howled in distress and disrupted the whole class, she left me to my mischievous ways. Certainly, the instructor truly lived up to the name given her twenty-seven years before—Sakeena, which means “tranquility” in Arabic.