Princess Sultana's Circle Read Free

something
greater than yourself, my child.”
    I emerged from that dream
in an ecstasy of joy, but the memory of Mother’s mysterious message
has continued to haunt me.
    Sadly, I had to acknowledge
that Mother’s words were true, that I have let my life stagnate.
Once, I embarked on a noble and stimulating quest to improve the
lives of women in my land. But finding myself helpless against the
unassailable power of Saudi Arabian men, I let myself grow
discouraged. Yet, so long as women in my own country can be married
against their will, physically abused and raped under the sanction
of the law, even legally murdered at the whim of their fathers,
husbands, and brothers, how could I stop fighting?
    Following my mother’s
visit, I took courage from the knowledge that there was still a
purpose for me in this ongoing struggle, a new role that I was
meant to fulfill. At this moment, however, I had no understanding
of where that might lead.
     

Chapter One
    Munira’s
Destiny
    One of the major traditions
of Islam is reported to have originated from a meeting of the
Prophet Mohammed and his followers when the Prophet took a stick
and pointed to the ground, “There is not one among you whose
sitting place is not written by God, whether in fire or in
paradise.” From this tradition, the Islamic faith teaches that all
things in life are predestined and that every person’s fate has
been decreed by Allah. While this fatalism creates a dignified
resignation to life’s hardships for many Muslims, I have fought
against this pessimistic inertia throughout my life, and I cannot
accept the tragic lives lived by so many Saudi women as the
preordained will of Allah.
    So when I learned that a
dreadful piece of our family history was about to be repeated, I
knew that I could never just fatalistically accept a horrifying and
shameful destiny being assigned to one of my nieces.
    Our family had recently
returned to our palace in Riyadh from a trip to Egypt. My husband,
Kareem and our eldest child and only son, Abdullah, were in
Kareem’s home office. Amani, our youngest daughter, was in the
garden with her pets, and I was sitting in the living room with our
elder daughter, Maha.
    Suddenly, my sister Sara,
and three of her four daughters, Fadeela, Nashwa, and Sahar, burst
through the door.
    I rose with a smile to
greet my most beloved sister, but I saw the fear shining through
Sara’s eyes. Sara’s dark eyes desperately sought mine as she
clasped my hands. She told me to sit down, that she had appalling
news.
    “ What is wrong,
Sara?”
    Sara’s melodious voice
betrayed a great bitterness. “Sultana, while you were away, Ali
arranged for Munira to be married. The wedding is ten days from
tomorrow.”
    Maha grabbed my hand from
Sara’s, and dug her nails into my palm. “Oh, Mother,
no!”
    I pulled away. My hands
twitched nervously as I spread my fingers across my face. One idea
beat mercilessly into my brain. Another young woman, my own flesh
and blood, to be married against her will.
    Munira was the oldest
daughter of my despised brother, Ali. She was a pretty, though
slight girl, who appeared many years younger than her true age.
Munira had always been an obedient child whose timid demeanor
aroused our sympathies and affection.
    Munira’s mother was Ali’s
first wife, Tammam, the royal cousin my brother had married so many
years before. At the time, Ali had readily boasted that his
marriage to Tammam was for the sole purpose of sexual release when
he came home to our country in between school terms abroad. Love
and affection were never on his agenda. Anyone could have easily
predicted Tammam’s miserable future.
    She had been married while
still a child, and she never had an opportunity to develop
emotionally. Even as a mature woman, Tammam rarely entered into
conversation, and when she did speak, her voice was so low the
listener was forced to lean close to hear her.
    Three years after his
marriage to Tammam, Ali took a second