Princess Sultana's Circle (14 page)

I sighed deeply. I, too,
had once been aflame with the overwhelming desire to help every
woman in need. Life had taught me that such desires often met with
failure. I patted Maha’s cheek lovingly before sitting down on her
bed.

“
Darling, tell me about the
young women. How did you learn about them?”

Maha laid aside her powder
brush and she turned to look at me. Her voice started to race and
she stumbled over words. “All right, Mother, I will tell you.
Yesterday, after I came out of the bathroom at that evil palace,
Layla was nowhere to be found. Since I did not know where the
garden was located, I begin to walk around the grounds, looking for
you. I searched everywhere, and soon became lost in that maze of
pavilions! I found myself on the path leading to the horses, and
thought that the gardens might be in that area.”

Pushing her vanity stool
along the floor, Maha scooted toward me. She took my hands and
squeezed them between her own. “Mother, Cousin Faddel does not own
any horses! That sign led to another pavilion! And that pavilion is
filled with beautiful young women!”

I had to think for a minute
before it struck me. Stallions! I understood that the sign was
Faddel’s idea of a joke—a joke at the expense of innocent young
women, no doubt.

“
Perhaps these women chose
what they are doing?” I suggested tentatively. I know that the
poverty in other countries often drives young girls, or their
families, to agree to sell their bodies.

“
No! No!” Maha vigorously
shook her head back and forth. “Several of these young women threw
themselves at my feet, and pleaded with me to save them!” Maha’s
eyes began to fill with tears. “Some of them can be no more than
twelve or thirteen years old!”

I cried out in anguish.
These girls were younger even than Amani!

“
What did you tell
them?”

“
I promised them that I
would come back, and soon! That I would bring my mother to them,
and that she would know what to do.”

“
Oh, Maha.” I closed my
eyes and let my chin fall onto my chest. “If only life were so
simple.”

With a sinking feeling, I
begin to recall the number of times that I, too, was as idealistic
and optimistic as my daughter. Now, as a woman of forty, I knew
that it was not a simple matter to come between men and their
sexual desires. It is the natural inclination of many men, and not
only in the Middle East, to seek out young girls or young women as
sexual conquests. And too often it seems to be of no concern to
them that their pleasure is taken from one who is too young, or
forced against her will.

“
What a cruel and evil
world we live in,” I said dejectedly, as tears filled my
eyes.

Maha looked at me with
trusting eyes. “What are you going to do, Mother? I promised
them!”

I made a painful admission.
“I do not know, Maha. I do not know.”

“
Perhaps Father can help,”
Maha said, with hope reflected in her innocent face. “Just as he
saved Amani’s birds!”

I sat silently, fighting
the irresistible force of our reality. I recalled clearly a time in
the late 1980s when Cory Aquino, the President of the Philippines,
had made a diplomatic issue out of young Filipino girls being hired
to come as housemaids to Saudi Arabia, but when they arrived, being
forced to serve as sex slaves. Aquino had banned single Filipino
women from traveling to Saudi Arabia.

Our own King Fahd had
become furious at this insulting restriction and reacted with a ban
of his own, saying that all Filipinos, both male and female, would
be forbidden from working in Saudi Arabia if President Aquino’s ban
was enforced.

Aquino’s brave attempt to
protect her countrywomen was a failure, for the economy of her
country greatly depended upon Filipino people working in the oil
rich lands of the Middle East and sending their money back to
support their families.

And so young Filipino women
hired as housemaids still serve our men as sex slaves, in addition
to their household duties.

“
Mother?”

I searched my mind for a
solution, but, once more, I had to admit, “I do not know what to
do.”

“
If Father can free a bunch
of birds, why can’t he do the same for human beings?”

“
Your father has gone for
the day.”

“
Then, Mother, we shall go
there. We will bring those girls back here, and we will hire them
to work as our maids!” she said passionately.

“
Maha, it is more
complicated than that.”

Maha jumped to her feet
with pain and fury on her face. Her words were rash. “I will go
alone, then! Like Amani, I will free these girls by
myself!”

Knowing that my daughter
had made up her mind, I realized I had no choice.

“
All right, Maha. We will
go together.” I informed my Filipino maid, Letha, that we were
leaving, instructing her that the moment Amani awakened, she should
tell her that the birds now belonged to her. Then I accompanied
Maha back to “Paradise Palace,” not knowing what to
expect.

Once we had arrived on
Faddel’s palace grounds, I told our driver, “We are meeting
Khalidah outside the palace.” I pointed to the “Stallions” sign.
“Please drop us off here, return to the gate, and await our
summons.” Both the driver and I carried cellular
telephones.

A skeptical look passed
across the driver’s face, but he did as he was
instructed.

My plan was to gather the
young women’s names and the addresses of their families so I could
contact their relatives. Once found, I calculated that their
parents could demand their daughters’ return through their
countries’ embassies.

Maha and I both fell silent
as we walked down that long pathway. We were both aware that we
were involving ourselves in a very serious matter. And all without
Kareem’s knowledge.

Soon I saw the infamous
pavilion, standing alone, just as Maha had described it. To me,
this building seemed identical to the other pavilions except that,
upon closer inspection, I saw that the windows were
barred!

“
How can we get inside?” I
whispered, certain that this building was securely
locked.

“
The door is unlocked,”
Maha told me, to my disbelief. “I asked the girls why they did not
run away. I was told that several girls had done so, but without
their passports and the appropriate travel papers signed by a Saudi
man, they were always brought back to certain punishment and even
worse treatment.”

“
Hmmm.” I could understand
this. Unfortunately, most people in Saudi Arabia, expatriates and
native citizens alike, would be too fearful of government
retaliation to offer help to any woman claiming she was being held
in sexual bondage. Few people will risk imprisonment for the sake
of a stranger, and the men of my family often take revenge upon
people who expose the dark side of life in Saudi Arabia.

As we neared the pavilion,
I was dumbfounded when a very old and bizarre-looking little man
stepped out of the bushes and in front of our path. We were both so
shocked at his appearance that we screamed.

Gasping for breath, I stood
without speaking as I took in this most unusual creature. He was
short and skinny and ebony black. He appeared shorter than he was
by an unfortunate forward curvature of the spine. His withered face
showed his extreme age. His skin hung in loose folds around his
jowls. Yes, I decided, this was indeed the most ancient person I
had ever seen.

Despite his age, though, he
was dressed in a bright yellow blouse and a sequined red vest. A
silk turban, turquoise in color, was wound around his head. His
full-cut drawers, fashioned out of a rich brocade run through with
golden threads, suggested the costumes of another age.

“
May I help you, Madam.”
The man’s voice was abnormally highpitched. And, kindly!

I looked more closely into
his face and saw brown eyes that were sparkling with
curiosity.

“
Madam?” He waved one small
black hand before my eyes.

I noted that he wore a ring
on every finger.

“
Who are you?” I managed to
sputter.

“
I am Omar,” he said, with
great pride. “Omar, of the Sudan.”

For the first time I
noticed that the old man’s face was as hairless as my own. Suddenly
I was struck with a thought. Was I looking at a eunuch? I wondered.
Certainly, there were no longer eunuchs in Saudi Arabia! Surely,
they were all dead by now!

In the not so distant past,
there were many eunuchs in Arabia. Although the Islamic faith
forbids Muslims to castrate young boys themselves, Muslims were not
forbidden from owning eunuchs as slaves. In fact, my forebears
considered eunuchs as prized possessions, and paid huge sums for
them. Once, eunuchs guarded the harems of wealthy Arabs. And they
were also a common sight in the mosques of Makkah and Medina, where
they were assigned to separate the women from the men when they
entered the mosques.

Now, here I was actually
looking at one of these eunuchs, now pitifully aged! I was certain
of it!

Acid words came to my
tongue, for I was immediately convinced of the role of this little
man here at Faddel’s pavilion. “And, I suppose you guard Faddel’s
harem?”

Omar chuckled lightly. “No,
Madam, I do not.” He flexed one thin arm and pinched loose flesh
hanging from the other arm. “I could only guard prisoners who are
volunteers, nothing more.”

As I looked down at his
small shrunken figure, I saw his point.

He explained. “Faddel’s
father was once my master; his son allows me to live on these
premises.”

Maha had soon overcome her
fear of the little man. She now impatiently tugged on my arm.
“Mother! Please hurry!”

Omar’s appearance had taken
me back to another time, and I was curious to ask this eunuch many
questions, but the compelling reason for my visit here took
precedence. I must find the imprisoned women before I was
discovered by Faddel. My only hope was that the eunuch would not
alert Faddel and Khalidah of our unauthorized entry into the
grounds.

“
We are here only to speak
to the young women living there,” I pointed at the pavilion. “We
will not be long. You have my word.”

Omar swept his head to the
ground in a graceful bow, “You are most welcome.”

Enchanted at his display of
gracious manners, I smiled as Maha and I brushed past
him.

The moment we stepped into
the interior of the pavilion, we were surrounded by a large number
of excited young women. Most looked Asian. Maha was greeted with
many hugs and kisses. Happy voices rang out in the room. “You kept
your word! We will be freed!”

I cautioned them. “Quiet!
You will wake those already in the grave!”

The loud laughing voices
then became low, joyful voices.

I took a moment to survey
Faddel’s harem while the anxious young women swirled around Maha
with many questions. Surprisingly, considering Faddel’s
preoccupation with all things beautiful, the room where we stood
appeared rather shabby. Although the furniture was expensive and
the walls were covered in gold silk, ornate decorations appeared
garish and grubby. Stacks of videotapes and ashtrays piled high
with cigarette butts and ashes cluttered the room.

I looked closely at the
young girls. Each one was beautiful, but their tawdry attire drew
the eye more than their beauty. Some were dressed in Western-style
halter-tops and jeans; others wore sheer nighties. There was
nothing glamorous about their harem apparel. Sadly, all of them
were unbearably young.

While most of the girls
were Asian, I saw one who appeared to be Arab. Several were smoking
cigarettes and sipping cold drinks. I had never imagined that a
harem and its occupants could appear so conspicuously vulgar.
However, I imagined that to Faddel’s eyes, these young women were
like the seductive virgins called “houris” that are described in
the Koran. I suspected that I was looking at a stage intended to
provide untold delights for Faddel. Yet, this must be the scene of
unspeakable hell for these women held against their
will.

“
Everyone, quickly, sit
down,” I ordered, as I retrieved a pen and pad from within my large
handbag. “We do not have much time,” I said, as I looked toward the
door at the entry of the pavilion. I gasped when I saw that Omar
had followed Maha and me, and was now sitting comfortably on the
carpeted floor. He smiled broadly. However, some inner sense told
me that I had no reason to fear the little man.

“
Now, I am going to pass
this notebook around the room. Everyone, please write down your
name, and an address where I can reach your relatives.”

A low moan of
disappointment and frustration swept through the room. One of the
older girls, whom I judged to be about twenty years old, asked me
in her soft voice, “Then, we are not going with you today,
Ma’am?”

Sadly, with my hand I made
a sweeping motion around the room. “I cannot. Look at you, you are
too many. I have no way of obtaining passports. You would be
returned before nightfall.” I paused as I quickly counted. There
were twenty-five young girls in that room. I then tried to speak
above the din of their voices.