Princess, More Tears to Cry, page 15
Little Sultana unexpectedly responded to the question Maha had addressed to her mother, Zain: “No, Auntie Maha. Laila is one of us.”
I smiled proudly at my adorable granddaughter, knowing what she meant. “Really? She is Saudi?”
“Yes, a Saudi girl.”
“Well, well, the world is changing,” I announced happily, for it was most unusual for a Saudi girl to work serving others. While Saudi girls often seek careers and routinely work as teachers, doctors, and dentists (specializing in women and children), few families will allow a daughter to take on a job where she must serve others, by becoming, for example, a nurse, hairdresser, or housekeeper.
However, in the past year, new jobs had opened up in shops for women, such as the lingerie shops, and in high-end beauty establishments, although this was the first time I had heard of a Saudi hairdresser.
Zain looked approvingly at her daughter. “Sultana is right. This Saudi girl is one of us, and she has a big following in the royal family. Laila is quite inventive with her comb.” Zain made a cute expression with her wide eyes and perky lips, then continued. “She even made Auntie Medina’s thin locks seem full. I could not see one speck of scalp under her latest hairstyle.”
“No! Really?” Maha retorted.
Females in the royal family familiar with Medina felt bad for her as, since childhood, our cousin has been afflicted with “lightweight,” thinning hair that scarcely masks her wrinkled scalp. Not having ample hair is a big problem for any woman, but more so in our Arab society. Although when we are in public our hair is concealed under a headscarf, in private this is not the case. At female gatherings most display their locks proudly, as there is much attention given to a woman’s hair. Hair is worn long and in a variety of elaborate styles, so as to receive compliments and attention.
But poor Medina is always reluctant to remove her headscarf, for obvious reasons. People can be cruel in my culture, and it was not unusual for the younger children to stare, point, and laugh at the nearly bald Medina, even when their mothers were twisting their ears, pinching their arms, or threatening some other such violence.
Medina had consulted a variety of doctors in the Arab world and in Europe, but none could solve the problem. One British physician claimed that she was born with an autoimmune disorder and that she must accept her fate. A patronizing Egyptian physician said the condition was triggered by the stress of living the life of a Saudi woman. A group of physicians brought into the kingdom from Syria for special consultation debated whether or not she was unconsciously pulling on her hair.
We admired Medina because her determination to solve her hair problem has never flagged. Lately, we had heard that she had hired three female hair therapists to rub her scalp for four hours each day with heated coconut oil to increase circulation to her scalp and also to plump up her hair follicles with coconut nutrients.
“Does this Laila have a special trick to help ladies with seriously thinning hair?” Maha inquired.
Little Sultana bounced from one foot to the other, bursting to speak. When Zain nodded and smiled, my granddaughter laughed and retorted, “Yes, Miss Laila said it was simple, and all one had to do is remember CCBB.”
Mystified, I asked, “CCBB? What does that mean, darling?”
“Yes. Tell us the secret of the lettering, Little Sultana,” Maha said with a grin.
Little Sultana glanced at her mother with a bewildered expression. “Mummy?”
Zain laughed aloud. “You precious girl, you can remember.” Zain then reminded her, “Cool . . .”
“I know, I know.” Little Sultana announced the words clearly: “Cool Cut and Brush the Boar!”
“What?” Maha laughed.
Zain told us. “It’s a simple way for those with thinning hair to encourage growth and stop thinning. Laila says that one with thinning hair must remember the words cool, cut, brush, and boar, meaning cool your hair, don’t heat it. Cut your hair and don’t try to wear it long. And finally, brush against your natural part with a boar bristle brush.”
“How clever,” Maha murmured. “This Laila sounds very intelligent.”
“She is that,” Zain replied. “She is a Saudi girl who has lived a life with many knotty problems, like so many Saudi females. But she has fought oppression and followed her dream of owning her business and living as freely as a woman can live in this country. Laila is a winner.”
I looked at Maha and saw her eyes shining with curiosity. Weeks later I recalled Maha’s words as the four of us wandered down the hallway and into the sitting area. “Zain, I would like to go with you and Little Sultana to your next appointment with this Laila.”
***
Over the next few weeks, Maha surprised us when she postponed her return trip to Europe several times. One day when she believed that I would be away in Jeddah with her father, she sent one of our drivers to bring the hairdresser Laila to our home, as she had invited the girl to spend several days at our palace.
Maha was unaware that I had not left the palace to accompany Kareem to Jeddah but instead was in my bedroom apartments suffering from a stomach bug I had contracted.
The sounds of women’s lively voices and loud laughter drifted to my hearing, and for a moment I believed I was in a mirage of happy women, as I was not expecting visitors and thought for sure everything was a result of my imagination. When I overheard Maha’s distinct voice, I realized that she was most likely chatting and laughing with some of our housemaids, as my daughter has always enjoyed discovering the lives of those living with and working for us. Wishing that my daughter was a girl who was not quite so boisterous, I turned over to lie on my stomach and covered my head with a pillow.
A few hours later, after hearing a second voice unfamiliar to me, my curiosity drove me to get out of bed and freshen myself and make an appearance to see who was visiting with my child.
Voices remained forceful until I tapped on the door of Maha’s private sitting room, and then all became silent. Maha surely must have crept to the door, for I had heard nothing of her footsteps before she cracked open the door and peered in surprise at my eyes staring at her.
Knowing her mother well, and mindful that I would not go away until the mystery guest was known, Maha reluctantly opened the door. “Mother, I thought you were in Jeddah with Father.”
“No, I have a tummy bug, darling. I did not feel like travel.” I attempted to peek around my daughter’s large frame to identify her company, but she is a robust girl at least six inches taller than her mother and heavier by twenty kilos. In our family, Kareem, Abdullah, and Maha are large and strong, while Amani is more like me physically, small and light.
I stepped into the room to see a vibrant young woman with a huge smile sitting sipping from a cup.
I stood at a distance, but welcomed her with a smile, saying, “Please excuse me for not greeting you properly, but I would not wish to share this tummy bug with anyone.”
“You are most kind, Princess,” the young woman responded, as she stood and lowered her head in acknowledgment.
“Mother, I would like you to meet my friend, Laila, the talented hairdresser who looks after Zain’s and Little Sultana’s hair.”
“Assalam alaykum [Hello and peace be upon you]. So, you are the Laila who has so pleased my daughter-in-law, and my granddaughter.” I chuckled as I recalled the story told us by Zain. “And the amazingly talented hairdresser who has made my cousin Medina’s life so much more agreeable. We have fretted with Medina over her lack of hair since she was a child.”
Laila smiled. “You are most kind to say so, Princess.”
Maha insisted that we leave her apartments and go into our family sitting room, where she ordered light snacks, tea, and soft drinks from the palace kitchen. I sat at a distance from the girls, not wishing to spread my germs, but I selected a good seat so that I could see both clearly.
“Laila,” I said, “I would enjoy knowing your story. I hear that you are an unusual girl who has overcome the obstructions of Saudi Arabia, the system that works against women trying to fulfill their dreams.” I glanced at my daughter. “Maha might have told you that I lend support to females who have a strong desire to break out of the ordinary Saudi mold.”
“No, she did not mention that,” Laila replied.
Maha raised her eyebrows and shot me a pleading look. I knew that my daughter wished for me to vanish back into my bedroom and leave her to enjoy her company in peace, but I have always been a mother who takes a strong interest in the friends of her children and I have accepted that I will never curb this curiosity. So I leaned back into my chair and became comfortable, as I sipped hot green tea in the hope that it would settle my stomach.
“You seem so young, Laila. May I ask your age?”
“Yes, Princess. I was twenty-three years old nearly a year ago.”
“Are you in college?”
Maha protested, “Mother, please. You know that Laila owns her own shop and is working. How could she be in college?”
“Oh, sorry. You are right, daughter.”
“Do not worry, Maha. I am happy to tell your mother about my life,” Laila assured my daughter, who was growing impatient. Knowing Maha, I knew that she would soon grab her friend by the hand to flee from me.
“You are right, daughter.” I glanced at our guest. “Sorry, Laila, but I heard enough about you from Zain to arouse my interest.” I laughed. “I so love it when Saudi girls are able to escape from the clutches of men, who try to prevent women from following their dreams.”
“It was a man who helped me to realize my dream, Princess.”
I was not as surprised as some would think, as over the past few years a number of educated Saudi men have begun secretly helping their daughters to achieve education and then to find employment. To my disappointment, Saudi mothers and sisters are too often the main culprits when it comes to discouraging their daughters from achieving an education and realizing their ambitions. The women of Saudi Arabia who are interested only in marriage and motherhood are fast becoming the biggest obstacles to females who are aching to escape such bondage. It is as though some Saudi women fear female success and achievement almost as much as most Saudi males. If they are satisfied living under the strict guardianship of a man and are content to greet each day without education and work, they fail to understand that, for others, this life is little more than a prison sentence, something to be endured. In other words, it is no life at all.
I understood this discouraging phenomenon better than most, as my daughter Amani would have chained her sister Maha to the old ways had she the power to do so, while my son Abdullah, who is an enlightened young man, fights for his sister’s right to make her own choices.
Although I would like nothing better than for my Maha to share my feelings on marriage and children, I learned years ago that this was never going to happen. In the past, there were moments when I experienced great distress that this was so, but since my daughter is now an adult and lives in Europe I do not dwell on this situation. Kareem, I am sorry to say, has never accepted Maha’s lifestyle, but at least he does not create strain in the family, as my husband has a marvelous capacity for burying his head in the sand and pretending that it is nothing unusual that our daughter refuses any discussion regarding marriage and family.
Although I embrace the possibility of change, suddenly Saudi life seems rather topsy-turvy to me. With the hint of change coming for females, some men are becoming our friends and supporters, while the women who should be helping us are opposing us.
I pushed for more information, much to the dismay of Maha.
“You have so impressed members of my family, Laila, that I would be honored to hear your story. Will you share it with me, please?”
Maha feigned a deep sigh and nestled into the thick cushions of the sofa. “All right, Mother. Laila, just tell her what she wants to know, otherwise we will be here all day while Mother picks and probes.”
Laila looked in surprise at my daughter’s impertinence. Saudi children do not usually speak in such an insolent manner to their parents. I smiled at Maha, then Laila. “Do not worry, I have an unusual relationship with my children, Laila. I want to know exactly what they are thinking, even when they are irritated with their long-suffering mother.”
Laila looked at Maha. Her expressive eyes told me that she did not approve of Maha’s rude conduct with her mother. Perhaps this girl would be good for my daughter, I thought, and would remind her of her good fortune in having a mother who loved her beyond reason.
“I’m really an ordinary girl, Princess,” Laila declared. “Most of my friends in school are like me, with most of them wanting a say in their future rather than walking the stale path of sacrificing everything in life to serve a man and to bear his children.”
I nodded, aware that education has a way of freeing girls from the belief that only a man and his wishes are important.
“Like most Saudi girls, after graduation from high school, my parents, both my father and my mother, yearned for me to accept a marriage to a man I did not know. They had several men in mind from my father’s village, all too old for a girl of seventeen, and I did not want such a marriage. I fought against marriage. Just as they were about to force the situation, my mother relented to my pleas, but my father became more firm. He is a man who believes that women should be bonded to a man and to a house filled with little children. Otherwise, he says, a woman will cause disgrace to the family.
“I spent most of my days in bed with depression so severe that my mother became concerned that I might take my own life. Although she wanted me to marry and to produce grandchildren, her fear for my well-being overcame her desire to force her daughter to marry. But she was helpless, unable to overpower my father’s wishes.”
Laila paused for a long time, blinking back tears. Maha patted her hand in a soothing manner and looked angrily at me, as though I were responsible for the traditions and laws governing women’s lives in Saudi Arabia.
My daughter spoke through gritted teeth, “Sometimes I hate my own country.”
“It is all right, Maha,” Laila said. “I am sorry, but I become emotional remembering those difficult times when I was so close to everything I did not want. I was terrified that I was going to be forced to submit to a strange man who would take me away from my parents and compel me to give in to his every wish. Then, to my complete surprise, my oldest brother came to my rescue. Lucky for me, he works at Saudi Aramco in Dhahran.”
I smiled and nodded, reflecting for a moment on Aramco, which is the Saudi company that owns the world’s largest oil fields, the Ghawar Field and the Shaybah Field. It is currently the most valuable company in the world, according to financial experts, with a value as high as $10 trillion. The company traces its origins to the 1920s, when the United States government was seeking sources of oil from the Middle East. The Standard Oil Company of California struck oil on Bahrain in early 1932, and that event brought them to the mainland of Arabia the following year, when our government granted the Americans a concession to explore oil in our newly formed country. After four long years of failure, oil was found in Dhahran, at a well named Dammam No. 7, since it was the seventh site drilled.
The Americans built their own little gated city in Dhahran approximately eighty years ago, a city formed for the single purpose of administrating the Saudi oil business. It is an important place, where men and women are not kept separate from one another. Most modern-minded people in the world find it unbelievable that even in 2014, in most of Saudi Arabia, women are believed to be so lustful that they are kept separate from the men in all walks of public and even private life, but that is not the case in Dhahran Aramco. The little community was a good lesson for Saudi men, in my opinion.
I had lapsed into such deep thoughts that Laila had ceased to speak. The dear girl was respecting my silence. “Go on,” I encouraged her, then asked, “Does your brother live in the Aramco compound?”
“Yes, he does, Princess. It was there that he was exposed to a more modern view of life, with men and women working beside each other. My brother saw firsthand that women could be a productive part of society and that they do not spend their time and energy attempting to seduce every man they see, as so many of our men stupidly believe.
“The attitude shown toward women at the company changed my brother and transformed my future. After his experience with the Americans, he did not accept an arranged marriage but in fact, fell in love with a Saudi girl who was working at the company. She is an unusual Saudi woman in that she is strong-willed and commands respect. She does not accept abuse from anyone. His wife bore him a daughter and a son, and to our amazement his favorite of the two children is his daughter. Working in a company where women are respected, and married to a woman he loved, my brother had slowly awakened from the ‘Saudi sleep’ so common to men of our country, where they do not even notice the unhappiness enveloping the women around them.
“And it came to pass that I was spared a miserable life. When my brother learned of the ongoing struggle between my father and me, he came to our home and showed an interest in my thoughts and feelings. The biggest shock of my life was when my brother asked what would make me happy, what ambitions did I hold? I was not sure how to respond, but then he remembered that for my entire life I was known throughout the extended family as the girl with a natural talent for arranging elaborate and beautiful hairstyles. I was the one who had always fashioned the hair of my cousins on their wedding days. I was delighted to tell him that my greatest joy was working with women to enhance their looks. In particular, I took great pleasure in creating beautiful hairstyles, for that is where my true talent lay.
“I could see that he was thinking deeply of everything I had said. He seemed genuinely concerned for me and my future happiness, and he asked that I give him some time to seek out a solution. After speaking with me, he talked for a long time with our mother and told her that it was her duty to keep her daughters safe and that I should not be married against my will.
