Free American Chick in Saudi Arabia by Jean Sasson Page B

spoken softly in that deadly voice of his, "Allah will decide."
    "When I heard my husband's words, I knew that I would start screaming and never stop. I scooped up my child and ran away. I ran in the first elevator that opened and stepped out where it stopped. That is how I came to be here," she says, gesturing at the door and hallway.
    Nayam's unmasked face glistens with fear. "I cannot change my husband's mind. About anything. Obeid is like a mountain between me and happiness."
    "What about your parents? Can they help you?"
    "Nothing." She looked into her baby's face and gave him a brief, faint smile. "They can do nothing. Both of my parents tried to speak with Obeid, but he froze them with his words." She hums the words, "Pleasing words filled with poison."
    My thoughts are racing. I know that I would divorce this Obeid, but things are not so simple in Saudi Arabia. While divorce is an uncomplicated matter for Saudi men, it quickly becomes tangled with intricate complexities when it is the woman who wants a divorce.
    Saudi men can divorce their wives without giving reason. The routine is one of speaking the words "I divorce you" three times, followed by notification to the religious and legal authorities.
    Women, on the other hand, are under obligation to prove that the man is either impotent, or that he is not financially capable of supporting a wife and family. Or, if the man has more than one wife, a woman can try to make the case that he is not providing equally for all wives. Even then, the religious authorities generally side with the man, telling the woman to go home, that God knows best what is good for her.
    I am thinking without speaking. It is painfully obvious that Nayam cannot claim that Obeid is impotent. He may well be the most potent man in the kingdom. Since she is his only wife and lives in obvious physical comfort, the second reason for woman-directed divorce is also invalid.
    Nayam has a problem.
    Her family either cannot, or will not, go against her husband.
    Nayam recognizes clearly the ugly hopelessness of her personal circumstances. Tears continue to stream down her face.
    I shift uncomfortably and ponder an appropriate response to my distraught visitor.
    Her gentle face wrinkled in agony, Nayam suddenly pulls the veil over her eyes and abruptly stands. "Obeid will be looking for me. He will be furious that I ran away."
    I lightly brush her arm with my outstretched hand. "Please, I want to know what happens with your baby...and with you." I plead with her, searching for words that will make an impact. "Nayam, I truly care. Please, come by my office any time you visit the hospital."
    She stops and turns, a stranger swathed in black shroud once more, facing me, but without a face. "I can call you?" she questions hesitantly.
    "Yes!" I move toward my desk and quickly write down my office phone number, my MCV apartment phone number, and the phone number at Peter's villa. I write my name, Jean Parks, at the top of the paper.
    "John Park," she repeats in her beautiful accented voice.
    I smile. "Jean Parks."
    She does not offer me her phone number, but not for rudeness. Nayam would be afraid for Obeid to discover that we have ever met. Surely this is a man who would forbid his wife a friendship with an American woman.
    I watch her small black-cloaked form as she seemingly floats up the hallway and to the elevator.
    I am sure that I will never see or speak with the gentle Nayam again.
    But I am wrong. Surprisingly, she calls several times over the course of the next few months.
    As the years pass, I am to learn that telephone conversations create a comfort embraced by many Saudi women. Quite simply, many Saudi females readily reveal intimate secrets, even to strangers, during telephone conversations. I have heard of some young women, bolder than most, who dial random numbers, whispering sexual promises to men who answer, strangers to them.
    The reason for this behavior is a mystery that I cannot solve. But it