Princess Sultana's Circle Read Online Free PDF Page B

such
treatment, whether cured or not, nothing is ever the same again for
the unfortunate Saudi wife. Servants gossip to other servants, and
the truth always escapes. The addicted Princess is looked upon with
great pity by her female cousins, but her husband will usually
reject her, possibly take a second wife, or even seek divorce. As
every Saudi woman knows, divorce brings the loss of everything—her
status and her children. A divorced woman soon becomes socially
isolated and ostracized.
    Recently, Hazrat Al Sa’ud,
another royal cousin afflicted with alcoholism, had been divorced
by her husband. Her five young children, who now lived with their
father and his other two wives, had been forbidden all contact with
Hazrat. Her own blood family had renounced her as well, and she now
lived under the supervision of an elderly, blind aunt and two
Filipino servants. Yet the attraction to alcohol was so strong that
Hazrat still took reckless chances at every opportunity in order to
acquire the drink that had brought about her ruin.
    Only a week before, my
eldest sister Nura had been told that Hazrat had caused an
explosion when trying to concoct homemade wine out of grape juice,
sugar, and yeast. Nura said that Hazrat’s elderly aunt swore the
explosion was so loud that she thought the Iraqis were bombing
Riyadh. She took cover under a bed and remained there until she
heard Hazrat wailing and weeping over the lost liquor. There was no
denying that Hazrat’s life was utterly ruined by the very craving
for alcohol that I was now experiencing.
    I shuddered. Fearful of
what my future might hold if my secret was ever exposed, I promised
myself that Kareem must never know that I was consuming alcohol in
the morning hours. I had understood long ago that my strength and
boldness were the arrows that had pierced my husband’s heart and
drawn him to me. Surely, the foundation on which our love was based
would crumble should Kareem discover my weakness.
    Horrified at the turn my
life had taken, I vowed that I would overcome this progressive and
dangerous desire for alcohol. I began to recite the ninety-nine
names of Allah aloud, hoping that, by proving my devoutness, the
God of all Muslims would take pity on me, and give me added
strength to defeat my weakness. My lips moved as I whispered the
words, “The Compassionate, The Merciful, The Sovereign, The Holy,
The Giver of Peace, The Protector, The Mighty One, The Creator, the
Majestic, The Great Forgiver…”
    My sincere devotions were
interrupted by a hysterical Maha. My daughter said that Munira had
just telephoned in tears. The poor girl had confirmed to Maha what
I had already expected, that she had good reason for her silence on
the day her uncles had visited. Munira said that Ali had threatened
to beat both her mother and herself if she dared to open her mouth
in protest about her engagement to Hadi.
    Poor Munira also confided
that her daily prayers now consisted of pleas to God for an early
death before her wedding date.
    It was then that memories
of Sara’s attempted suicide caused me to rise from my bed. In
coalition with Maha, I discarded one risky proposal to rescue the
bride after another. Finally, we concluded that a simple plan was
best. We decided to hide Munira in our home at Jeddah until Hadi
became so mortified by the reluctance of his young bride that he
would nullify their engagement.
    I eagerly telephoned Sara
and told her to come quickly! I was hoping that I could induce my
most intelligent sister to join us in devising further
strategy.
    When Sara arrived, she
bewildered me when she balked at the idea, even warning me that she
felt compelled to alert Kareem of my reckless objective.
    “ Sara!” I admonished, “You
once traveled the same path as poor Munira. Do your own memories of
abuse not compel you to help save this girl?”
    Sara appeared frozen in
place.
    “ Sara?”
    Sara’s brooding face belied
the calm tone of her voice. “Sultana,” she confessed,