Black Book of Arabia Read Online Free PDF Page A

T-shirts were her favorite outfit, the one-size-fits-all dress code. She desperately wanted to marry someone of a princely stature, but no one would have her. She was too short, too fat, and too lacking in her studies. She was incapable of striking up an intriguing enough conversation for a man to inquire after her or even to call.
    She wanted to get a world-class education and meet the kind of people who would lift her up and eventually allow her to marry into the very society that excluded her from their activities and social gatherings. She wanted to be made exceptional, elite in any way or form that she could. She was willing to buy it, to cheat for it, to skim, to work, or to study for it even though she knew herself to be a hopeless student.
    Working in the salon was a chore, and she longed to be served instead of serving people. Every sunrise was the start of a new battle between herself and her reality. It was degrading to be doing menial work when she went to an elite school, though she did not know the first thing about speaking in millions or leaving an unfinished croissant on her plate. Her father had millions but would give her only enough for a single, cheap meal, and she always finished whatever she had to eat—which was fast food only and always. She went to the same schools as the elite girls sheadmired, spoke with their Arabic accent, and learned their good and bad habits. Yet, however much she tried she was disregarded and disconnected when and where it counted. She battled her demons but never lost hope. For after all, if her mother, a low-paid immigrant could do it, she surely had better options.
    Lulu’s English-language skills were weak, and she passed only with much bribery and gifts. She struggled to switch from pen and paper to the laptop and smart technology that her classmates so easily mastered. However, she never surrendered to her lack of linguistic knowledge and was accepted as a silent guest since she never hurt anyone. She just wanted to be one of the girls. Still, a tornado stirred in her whenever she lounged with the socialites; half the class was made up of princesses and the other half was from the richest families of Riyadh.
    Most of Lulu’s teachers visited the salon, and that proved to be her winning card. She would embarrass them into helping her by refusing to accept payment after serving them. Hadeya, too, was trying her utmost to fit into the society that she was now a part of, sending couscous to the faculty every Friday. She aimed to please, and please she did. Eventually, people forgot about the old boss; Hadeya’s cheap rates and prime location on one of Riyadh’s busiest streets won over a large clientele. It took years, but Hadeya eventually reached a level of acceptance within the society that once ignored and disregarded her. Teachers, doctors, high school girls, college students, matchmakers, and housewives of all sorts sat in the salon,sipping Moroccan tea and enjoying the company of the funny Moroccan employees. The clients enjoyed a variety of sweets and shared stories about how to get better skin, hair, and nails and about the beautiful Queen Selma of Morocco, and they swapped cooking recipes.
    Lulu’s father did not want to send her to Europe or America for further education. She had never been abroad before, it was too expensive, and she had not been accepted into any scholarship programs. He opted to send her to Kuwait to finish her higher studies, as she was adamant about not graduating from a school in Saudi Arabia. Kuwait was cheaper than London or California for the tight-fisted father, and Lulu was his precious first-born from his beloved Hadeya. He wanted to know that she was a short distance away, as opposed to a half-day or full-day trip to a cold country. Lulu was disappointed. All of her friends were traveling abroad for higher education, but she was refused entry to all the foreign universities because of her low grades and poor