Princess: Secrets to Share Read online

  Princess Sabrina had found her passion.

  Now it seemed that my daughter and I would be sharing it.

  “There is so much more to tell you, Mummy,” Amani said. “I have stories that will chill your heart and bring tears that you cannot control.”

  I shivered, knowing that such stories were going to render me sleepless for many nights.

  “Amani, I will help you if you like,” I assured my daughter, “but I cannot promise that I will travel to Pakistan and help you and Sabrina there.”

  My daughter’s expression was one of extreme disappointment.

  I am weak when it comes to my children, and so I quickly added, “This is something I have to think about, Amani. I am not getting any younger. I must guard my health, and, my darling, this is the most troubling topic in the world. Already I am shivering in despair by the sight of those women in the photographs.”

  That is when Kareem walked into the room. “Little Sultana is becoming restless. Is it possible for you two to continue your conversation later, after Abdullah has taken her home?’

  “Yes, of course,” I replied. “We will come now.”

  “Amani, gather your photographs so that Little Sultana does not see any other pictures of these poor women,” I reminded my daughter. “We will discuss this further tomorrow. I have many questions about these women, and what the Pakistani government is doing to stop these crimes.”

  “Yes, Mummy,’ ” Amani said in a voice so sweet that I could believe for a moment that she was still a little girl.

  To my horror and surprise, that is when Amani looked to her father and asked, in the same innocent voice, “Father, did you know that Maha is in Turkey, volunteering at one of the refugee camps there?”

  I gasped. Clearly, Maha was right not to trust her sister with her secret.

  Kareem froze. “What?” he said.

  Amani replied before I could speak. “Maha is in Turkey, Father. She sneaked there so as to work with the refugees. I fear that she is in danger.”

  My husband gave me an angry look, one that nearly stopped the blood flowing through my veins.

  “Sultana! What is this? Another secret?”

  Amani glided out of the room, as if the conversation was no more important than the flavor of ice cream we might enjoy later. But Kareem was set to fight, and I knew that the night would be a long and difficult one.

  6 - Maha: Where the Heart Goes

  Knowing there was wisdom in avoiding a confrontation with Kareem, I raced past him and out of the room to find Abdullah, the only person in our family who I knew would join me in supporting Maha’s decision to help the Syrian refugees, and who might have a chance of softening his father’s wrath over my secret-keeping for our daughter.

  Kareem can be aroused to a great anger against his me and our two daughters, all of whom have great passions for various causes. Rarely, though, does Kareem have reason to disapprove of our son, which I believe is due to Abdullah’s calm, self-possessed personality and his soothing manner.

  Abdullah had no indication that Amani had discovered Maha’s secret, so he was startled when I called his name in a screech of despair as I dashed into the area of our palace that houses our new aquarium.

  “Abdullah, where are you, Son?”

  As I sped into the room, I quickly saw that Abdullah was sitting next to Little Sultana at one of the five tables placed in the middle of the room. This angelic girl was eating a small bowl of peach ice cream illustrating the dainty manners she had recently learned while taking a charm and etiquettes class from a pleasant British lady who was currently popular with the royals as a teacher of valuable social graces.

  I had interrupted my son as he was observing the various rare tropical fish that slowly swayed as they swam, giving every indication that they were contented and tranquil in their outsized environment.

  The year before, Kareem had hired a professional to build an impeccable home for fish, an aquarium that circled the room from ceiling to floor. Spectators felt as though they were drifting in the blue waters with the tropical fish. Upon completion, a marine expert had stocked the aquarium with sea life, mainly from the reefs and coastal mangroves of the Red Sea. There were fifty different species of fish and other sea creatures, all carefully selected for their flamboyant and multicolored beauty, including clown fish, jellyfish, and even sawfish. I glanced over and saw that a school of clown fish had gathered in a low corner of the aquarium and appeared to be examining Little Sultana and Abdullah with a great intensity. But who could know the mind of a fish?

  Even Amani approved of our aquarium, one of the few she agreed was large enough to keep fish from being psychologically damaged. I have never heard of a fish needing therapy, although Amani believes that such attention is valuable for those poor fish kept in small aquariums or in tiny bowls sitting atop tables and desks, where fish tend to swim around and around, indeed appearing rather hysterical to be in such a confined space, which even I admit is cruel.

  There had been several unpleasant incidents when our daughter had demanded that the owners of fish kept in such conditions release their pets from agony and instead give them to her to keep in spacious water containers. Each time this had occurred, the proprietor of the fish was so befuddled that it was agreed that my daughter could take possession of the little creature or creatures.

  Due to Amani’s obsession with the well-being of all animal life, whether those living on land or swimming in the sea, no one in our family has experienced a moment of boredom.

  While Little Sultana expressed no anxiety by my dramatic entry, Abdullah discerned that something was amiss, for I was panting and had clearly been running through the palace.

  “What is happening, Mother?”

  I was about to explain the trigger that had created the drama when Kareem burst into the room, his anger expressed on his rosy-colored face. I knew the signs. My husband was ready to fight.

  To my vast relief, when Kareem realized that Little Sultana would be a witness to any argument we might have, he loudly inhaled, pulled up a chair, and sat. I marveled at his self-control as I observed his expression slowly transform from immense anger to a studied calm. My husband sat quietly, smiling at his son and granddaughter as though there were nothing of importance on his mind.

  I joined the table, and almost miraculously, as though we were on video and the kitchen staff was watching closely to see when Kareem and I entered the room, two more bowls of ice cream were served.

  I assumed that Abdullah had alerted the staff we would soon join them, and ice cream was already dipped and put into the bowls to be kept cold in a small freezer in the room next to the aquarium, ready to be served the moment we settled in our chairs.

  Abdullah looked warily at me, and then to his father, but Kareem said nothing of importance as he chatted with Little Sultana. The two of them raved about the delectable taste of the ice cream. Abdullah joined in the senseless chatter. I was not unhappy about it because their mindless prattle gave me time to think. My thoughts zipped through various scenarios as I worked out how I might convince my husband not to react, without thinking first. Knowing Kareem, I felt certain that as quickly as possible, he would depart on our private jet from Saudi Arabia for Turkey to force his daughter to leave the volunteer work so important to her, and to abandon the refugee children she was helping.

  Just then, Amani came into the room to tell us that she must return home, but not before saying that she would call me in the morning to further deliberate about the women of Pakistan we had discussed. I was exceedingly annoyed at my daughter and for once did not reply with the sweetness she is accustomed to hearing. Despite this, I saw that Amani was not in the slightest concerned that her mother was furious at her misbehavior.

  I had reason for my anger. There was no doubt in my mind that Amani had invaded my privacy to search through my quarters, finding her sister’s confidential letter to her mother. I was so eager to reprimand my youngest child that I dared not op
en my mouth to speak a single word. That is why I feigned a full mouth with ice cream and nodded rather than respond verbally.

  Amani was irritatingly cheerful as she smiled at me to bid a final farewell.

  I love my children dearly and have often been accused of being an overindulgent parent; if they are sometimes insensitive and badly behaved, I feel I must take the blame.

  I would tend to my daughter later, but for now I believed that Abdullah and I must make a collaborative effort to prevent Kareem from behaving rashly. Maha was of an age that she could live as she pleased, despite parental dissatisfaction. Knowing Maha had combined her strong character with a great passion for volunteering, I suspected that Kareem might regret trying to dissuade her from following her chosen path.

  Several years before, Kareem and I had bestowed great wealth on our three adult children. We had also made generous legal trusts for our grandchildren, which would be available to them at the age of twenty-five. Maha, Amani, and Abdullah had all reached the age of economic independence; they enjoyed life without financial worry and could still devote much of their wealth to charitable causes.

  After Little Sultana finished her ice-cream treat, she very politely dabbed her mouth with her napkin before carefully folding and laying it beside her bowl.

  My adorable granddaughter was practicing her etiquette lessons, I thought to myself.

  Smiling, she leaned forward to kiss me, then her grandfather, before saying, “Thank you for the delicious treat.” She paused, “I would like to see the beautiful fish now. Would you care to join me?”

  Kareem and I melted in pleasure, for we are both devoted grandparents and nothing gives us more joy than the cuteness of our young grandchildren. Long ago, I heard from an elderly aunt that the only perfect relationship between human beings is that of grandparent and grandchild. I now know that to be a certainty. While parent and child relationships are often marked by disputes, for a parent is wholly responsible for that child’s welfare, grandparents are kept at a comfortable distance from daily responsibilities.

  The grandparent and grandchild relationship is a most rewarding one—for all concerned.

  I watched as Little Sultana entertained herself by pressing her face against the aquarium walls while staring raptly at the varieties of fish.

  With Little Sultana out of hearing range, Kareem could not restrain himself a moment longer. He looked at his son and, in a low tone, voiced an urgent appeal. “Abdullah, did you know that Maha was in Turkey? Volunteering at a refugee camp?”

  Abdullah paled, instantly trapped in the middle of a dilemma. If he said yes, he would be breaking a promise to his sister to keep an important secret. If he said no, he would be lying to his father, for he, too, had received a similar correspondence to my own from Maha.

  “Abdullah, do not follow your mother’s path by keeping secrets from me,” Kareem said in a soft voice, which was nevertheless stern, as he shot me a dark look.

  Abdullah glanced at me. Seeing my son’s misery, as he was caught between his sister and his father, I intervened. “Husband,” I whispered, “I will tell you what I know, but in private. Let us see our son and granddaughter to the door, and we will settle this between us.”

  Kareem looked in my direction. “I am sorry, Sultana, but you will stretch the truth first one way and then another. I will have to put the puzzle together from many broken pieces.”

  I stiffened. I had volunteered to discuss Maha and her mission with Kareem, and now he was insulting me.

  I decided to ignore my rude husband. “Abdullah, when is Zain expecting you and Little Sultana?” Zain, Abdullah’s wife, was a perfect wife, in my opinion, but she did like to know her husband’s schedule. I wished to give my son an excuse to leave, forcing Kareem to discuss the problematic set of circumstances with me, whether he wanted this dialogue or not.

  But Abdullah has always been wise, and his wisdom is topped by a strong character. These two characteristics mean that he generally makes good decisions. Therefore, I was not surprised when he responded to his father’s question with an important Islamic teaching from the Prophet Muhammad.

  “Father, from the time I was a child, you and Mother have always told me that every Muslim must give in charity.”

  “That is true, Son. Do you think I have a problem if Maha gives many millions to the refugees in Turkey, Jordan, and Iraq? No, I do not know, nor care, what she does with her inheritance. But I am concerned for her safety. Abdullah, I cannot have my daughter there, single and without protection in a camp filled with many thousands of desperate people.”

  Abdullah pushed aside his ice-cream bowl. ‘“Father, you once told me a particular story when on a particular Eid holiday you caught me taking the fruit and candy from the baskets that were filled by our family to give to the poor in charity. I would like to now remind you of that story.”’

  Abdullah was always such a good child, and I did not recall such an incident. I like to know everything that has affected my children in life, so I leaned in to hear this story.

  Kareem quietened and nodded. “Go ahead, Son. I am listening.”

  “You told me this story, ‘The Prophet Muhammad said, “Every Muslim must give in charity.” The people around him asked, “But what if someone has nothing to give, what should he do?” The Prophet replied, “He should work with his hands and benefit himself and also give in charity from what he earns.” The people then asked, “If he cannot even find that?” The Prophet replied, “He should help the needy who appeal for help.” Then the people asked, “If he cannot do even that?” The Prophet finally said, “Then he should perform good deeds and keep away from evil deeds, and that will be regarded as charity.” ’

  “Father, you and Mother pressed the importance of charity to your children all through our early years and you told me that although I was too young to work and give my earnings to charity, I should stay away from evil deeds, such as stealing candy and fruit that was meant for the poor; you said my good behavior would be considered charity.”

  Abdullah paused before making the most important point: “Father, it is very easy for our family members to give money, for we have more than we need, but when we give of ourselves, and give of our time, and feel with our hearts what the unfortunate endure, then that is true charity. Maha is living up to what is expected of all Muslims. My sister, your daughter, is one of the few who gives completely, with her money, her time, and her heart.”

  Abdullah observed his father for a moment, then said, “Father, Maha has gone where her heart has taken her.”

  I saw that my husband was thinking seriously about what Abdullah had said because he was biting his lower lip, a habit of his that shows when he has a lot on his mind.

  “Son, I will consider what you have said. I will speak with you again in the morning and tell you my decision. Although you are right that as Muslims we have to give, I still feel that I cannot allow my daughter to be in physical danger.”

  Abdullah then replied, “Well, Father, it is said that nothing great has ever been achieved without danger. Maha is doing a great thing, and it is even greater because she can easily live a life of idleness and luxury and send money for others to carry out this arduous work. But nothing is greater than being on the ground where the need exists, to help physically, psychologically, and financially.”

  Kareem said nothing in reply but pulled his son to him for a brief hug.

  Abdullah gazed at his precious young daughter, who had momentarily forgotten her etiquette lessons as she was skipping with delight to leap into her father’s arms. She squealed with delight, “I saw a fish as big as Little Faisal! The fish was blue and green!”

  Little Faisal, the brother of Little Sultana, was just a toddler, and his sister adored him, although he was much too small and young for true companionship for an eight-year-old girl. But I was happy that Little Sultana was dazzled by the fish. I looked at Kareem in gratitude for all the unusual projects he arranges for our children and gra
ndchildren to enjoy, such as the giant aquarium.

  My husband felt my stare and looked at me, too, but with a scowl.

  I shook my head and looked at Kareem in disappointment. Although my initial reaction was alarm at the thought of Maha being in a refugee camp, I was quickly soothed by her reassurances of safety, and the knowledge that my eldest daughter was accomplishing something very important, assisting those in great need as well as furthering her own passion for goodness.

  Abdullah turned his attention from Little Sultana to his father and said, “Father, there are children as loved, as precious as my child. These children have been abused most mercilessly. Try to think of your granddaughter and know that there are thousands like her who have endured the most horrendous harm. It is people like Maha who have also gone with their hearts, and are working to try and bring those children back to a normal place in life. What would the world do without such people, Father?”

  I had to fight back my tears, remembering the little girls my daughter had described in her letter, knowing that those little girls were as precious as our own.

  When I squeezed my granddaughter good night, I praised God that she was not in danger of violence, rape, or murder. Those innocent children Maha was helping had once had parents and grandparents who loved their babies just as we love ours.

  I then embraced my son with great feeling, wondering how it was that I had given birth to someone so strong and so wise.

  As Abdullah walked away with Little Sultana in his arms, I wiped away a tear, and when I glanced at Kareem, I saw that he, too, was fighting back emotional feelings.

  I gently touched my husband’s arm, to remind him that I was there, but he pulled back from me and resumed his cranky mood, telling me, “Sultana, we will discuss this in the morning. Meanwhile, I am going to have our airplane readied for a trip to Turkey. Tomorrow I will see my daughter.”

  I stood in shock as Kareem rushed away. Despite the wisdom of Abdullah’s words, Kareem was going to take his daughter from Turkey.