Princess: Stepping Out of the Shadows, стр. 17
However, despite my happiness, I should have known better than to assume the best, for the evening had not yet ended.
* * *
Our gathering was so pleasurable that the hours passed quickly from afternoon to evening. I was agreeably surprised when none of the younger women made excuses to leave, as that is their customary behaviour when at a party with the older generation. Just as we were unwinding and beginning to relax into comfortable sofas in our largest sitting room, there was a loud noise that sounded like falling furniture.
Dunia struggled to scream – I heard only the slight whistling squeal escape from between those hopelessly unusable lips. Sara and I exchanged quick glances before bolting from the room, followed by our daughters, Maha and Nashwa.
Unsure of where the clamour arose, we first rushed into Mother’s Room, where I saw a scene that caused my heart to race dangerously fast. There was Ali’s wayward daughter Medina sprawled on the floor beneath Mother’s photograph. At her side was a young woman in a black ninja suit with a head covering, also in black. Hers was the sort of costume that appears in movies featuring thieves who are attempting to rob wealthy hotel clients in southern France. This was a woman I had never before seen.
Then I saw a three-step ladder turned upside down on the floor near to Medina. Confusion reigned while I tried to determine exactly what was happening, but Maha instantly knew that Medina, once again, was there to steal Mother’s photograph.
‘You! Thief!’ Maha shouted at her cousin, before pushing aside the black-attired stranger to lean down and yank Medina by both arms, straining to pull her to her feet.
Medina cried out in pain. ‘Stop! Stop! My arms are broken.’
‘Good news, Medina,’ Maha growled, as she yanked more enthusiastically.
Medina shrieked loudly.
‘Maha, no, I believe she is truly hurt,’ Sara said, as she placed her hands on Maha’s back.
‘She is a known liar, Auntie. Do not let her act fool you. Besides, if she is not yet hurt, I will happily hurt her.’
By this time Haifa and Tahani, along with several nieces, were pushing into the room to discover the source of the commotion. All watched as Nashwa and Sara together tugged on Maha until she released her cousin.
I cringed and cried out when Maha gave Medina a swift parting kick to her bottom. ‘Maha, no,’ I pleaded. ‘Please, no further violence, darling.’
Maha practically spat her words. ‘Mother, it seems that Medina believes that all roads in Riyadh lead to Grandmother’s photograph! I will teach her to avoid those roads!’
My daughter is one of the strongest women I know, both mentally and physically. She is aggressive for the right and aggressive against the wrong. When Maha is presented with a problem that needs solving, she will spring into action, regardless of any danger to herself. Neither Kareem nor I have ever been able to discourage Maha from doing what she believes is right – even if it means physical violence. At that moment I feared that Maha was dangerously close to seriously harming her cousin.
Medina has similar qualities, although she uses her emotional and physical strength to do wrong, rather than to correct wrong. Whether her misdeeds are wholly related to her bipolar disorder or she is simply a wicked girl, I do not know. But I do realize that when these two royal cousins clash there is valid reason to fear the outcome. Thankfully I was not alone with Maha and Medina or it would have been difficult for me to calm the situation.
Medina whimpered. ‘My arms. My arms!’
‘Medina,’ Maha said in a strong, determined voice, ‘do not fret about broken arms. But I suggest that you do worry about those grasping, long-fingered hands of yours that will be cut off in Deera Square if you do not cease stealing items that do not belong to you.’
‘Maha! No! Do not say such things,’ I told my daughter. I did glance at Medina’s large hands. They are so large that they resemble the hands of a man. There is nothing feminine about my niece, in fact. Yet I shivered at the thought of blood spurting from her wrist if her hand was severed by the executioner’s sword and knew that I did not wish her that harm.
I know more than I would like about the grisly punishments meted out at Deera Square, also known as Justice Square. Located in what could be described as a downtown area of Riyadh, it is known to all Saudi Arabians, and to many others arriving in our land from around the world, as the place where our criminals are punished by a hefty Saudi man brandishing a sword. Although there are other countries that inflict capital punishment for serious crimes committed, with the United States among them, for some reason our Saudi method of justice dispensed from the point of a sword seems more offensive to most than the image of those who are shot with a gun or have needles injected into their restrained bodies with powerful drugs that stop the heart.
I have always been extremely curious by nature and some years ago, after reading a Western newspaper article condemning my country for our methods of punishment, I conducted research on beheadings and the cutting off of limbs. While I am sad and sorry that such punishments are inflicted, I have no better plan of how to permanently stop murderers and rapists, for such hard-hearted criminals appear addicted to their crime of choice, leaving countless innocent victims in their wake.
As for beheadings, I have read that there are benefits over other methods of capital punishment. For