Free Princess Sultana's Daughters by Jean Sasson Page A

and played together on Aisha’s bed, giggling and tickling
each other’s bodies. It was then that Aisha showed Maha the
pleasure women could have with one another.
    Ashamed of her love for Aisha, Maha cried in
my arms, sobbing that she wanted to be a happy, well-adjusted girl
with a productive life. She cried out, “Why am I different from
Amani? We came from the same seed, but we have blossomed into
different plants!” She screamed, “Amani is a beautiful rose! I am a
prickly cactus.”
    Ignorant of the ways of God, I could not
answer my child. I held her in my arms and comforted her with the
thought that the remainder of her life would be that of a beautiful
flower.
    Then my troubled daughter asked me the most
difficult question of my life. “Mother, how can I ever love a man,
knowing all that I know of their nature?”
    I had no ready answer, yet it was with
profound happiness that I understood that Kareem and I had another
chance with our daughter. It was time to go home to Riyadh. We did
not leave before Kareem offered Maha’s British physician a position
in Riyadh as our family’s personal doctor.
    Much to our amazement, the physician refused.
“Thank you,” he said. “I am honored. Fortunately, or unfortunately,
whichever is the case, my aesthetic sensibilities are too keen for
Saudi Arabia.”
    Undaunted, Kareem insisted upon rewarding the
doctor with a large sum of cash. He even went so far as to try to
put the money into the man’s hand.
    Maha’s physician firmly waved aside the
offer, uttering words that would have been a keen insult had they
not been spoken softly. “My dear man, please, do not. The
shallowness of wealth and power holds no appeal for me.”
    While staring in awe at one of the least
prepossessing figures I have ever beheld, I suddenly had the answer
to Maha’s earlier, unanswerable question! Later, I told Maha that
she would one day meet a man deserving of her faithful love, for
such men existed. She and I had met one in London.
    *
    Once we were back in Riyadh, the source of
Maha’s knowledge of black magic was revealed. It was as I had
thought. Noorah was the culprit.
    Maha told her father, in my presence, that it
was her grandmother who had introduced her to the dark world of the
occult. Confronted with Abdullah’s clothing wrapped around a charm,
Maha denied wanting to cast a spell on her brother. Hoping that she
had learned a great lesson, we did not press the issue.
    I desired nothing more than to confront my
mother-in-law, spit in her face, and yank out her hair. Kareem,
wisely recognizing the dangers of pent-up anger, refused to let me
accompany him when he went to confront her about her misdeeds.
Nevertheless, I did coax my unenthusiastic sister Sara into paying
a visit to our mutual mother-in-law’s palace at the time of
Kareem’s visit.
    Sara arrived at Noorah’s villa shortly after
my husband. She waited in the garden for Kareem to leave. Sara said
that she overheard Kareem’s shouts and Noorah’s pleas for mercy.
Kareem forbade his mother to visit his children without
supervision.
    Long after my husband had left, Sara said,
Noorah’s moans of despair could be heard in the garden. “Kareem,
most beloved, you came from my womb! Come back to your mother, who
cannot live without your precious love.”
    Sara accused me of being as wicked as Noorah,
for I radiated much happiness when she told me of my treacherous
mother-in-law’s well-deserved wretchedness.
     

 
Makkah
    “ God, Great and Glorious is He, said: “And
proclaim among men the pilgrimage, they will come to you on foot
and on every lean camel, coming from every deep ravine.”
    —AL HAJ, 22:27
    There is no method to calculate the number of
pious Muslims who have perished while making the grueling journey
across the deserts of Saudi Arabia since the time of the Prophet
Mohammed and the first pilgrimage, but the total is estimated to be
in the thousands. While I am pleased to report that it is no