Princess: Stepping Out of the Shadows, стр. 3

Chapter One

Let Them Know You Are Coming

I AM A princess in the House of al-Sa’ud in the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia. In the land of my birth, a princess is for ever. A princess is born a princess and dies a princess. This is because the princesses of Saudi Arabia have never known the pleasure of exerting influence; therefore, no men in power felt the need to pull the crowns off our heads. This indubitable position means that princess power lurks under the obscurities of royal lives, although any power felt by a princess in Saudi Arabia is destined to remain hidden in shadows.

But the power of Saudi women is changing. As of the Islamic year 1439 (2018), I, along with many other women in the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia, will be stepping out of the darkness to embrace long-sought and greatly desired changes in our personal liberties.

The journey of Saudi females groping in darkness down the worn path of oppression is known to many. They have learned of our imperfect lives through various sources, including news reports, government studies, personal cries for help and the books written about my life, as well as the lives of my family, friends, and other women and men in Saudi Arabia. To my astonishment and great happiness, our battles for justice were recognized and our pleas for help were heard by many the world over.

I know for certain that this is the case, for I have seen letters from readers and so understand that my personal story has touched the hearts and minds of people in every country on earth. Many of these readers express true affection for me and for my country. But certain members of my family do not always agree that my story has produced positive feelings for me, and for Saudi Arabia.

I remember not so long ago when my brother Ali created a scene in my home after discovering the fifth book about my life in a bookstore in London. He burst past our doorman and into our home without the usual formalities courteous people reserve for visiting. Instead, a very angry Ali was holding the book Princess, Secrets to Share in his hand, shaking it above his head as though it were an objectionable tambourine.

Since the time we were children, no one could exceed my brother in creating dramatic scenes. While every other man I know in the Saudi royal family tends to react in a calm, mature and measured manner when difficult situations develop, my brother behaves like a petulant child.

I stood and stared as my brother made a spectacle of himself. Ali was stumbling, for his gait was faster than his bulk could support, his face was red, and his voice was at such a high volume that the servants came running to see for themselves if the world was coming to an end.

Ali was shaking in anger, his tone accusatory. ‘Sultana! Will you never stop?’ He tossed the book to the floor and kicked it, the force of his punts knocking one of his sandals from his foot. His assault ripped the pages from the book’s spine. ‘Sultana, these books do nothing but create negative feelings about you!’ My brother actually emitted a growling noise, as he kicked the book a final time. ‘And our family!’ Ali pursed his lips and glared with a laser-like glower so piercing that there was no doubt that he was on the verge of saying very spiteful words.

I shook my head slowly in reaction to his angry declarations. I knew my brother was wrong about my books creating animosity towards me, my family and my country, and I refused to match his antagonism. I have learned with the passing years to restrain my emotions, if possible, and most particularly in disagreements on family matters.

Besides, on that morning I was feeling serene, for I had just enjoyed a lengthy and most enjoyable conversation with my son, Abdullah, who had taken his wife and two children to Europe for a holiday. Our talk had been so pleasurable that it was now difficult for anyone to trigger my temper, which I generally control but, admittedly, on occasion can be as volatile as my brother’s. I said nothing as I watched his ridiculous reaction. All in my immediate family know that only the silence of my grave will cease my fight for the rights of women. Most importantly, I did not react to Ali’s rantings because I knew that he was wrong!

I looked around to see our servants watching my brother carefully. Ali was known to insult them if he noticed their presence. But they remained since all knew that Ali rarely notices those who serve him. I said nothing, for those who work in our homes are trustworthy and discreet, accustomed to seeing and hearing most of our family dramas. They had little concern as to the source of Ali’s distress and were merely enjoying a break in their routine. Some, perhaps, were concerned that my brother might become violent, for in the past he had shoved those who were the source of his anger.

The truth is that the books about my life, my family, my friends and other women from the region have not created negative feelings about anyone who is innocent of brutal acts against females. And I believe that any Saudi citizen, or for that matter any person, regardless of nationality, would feel that those guilty of intentional cruelty should be punished and rejected by all. Certainly, as I have said, the books about my life have not brought ill will to my country, but instead have opened a window on to our world. Our lives have always been so secretive and our culture unfamiliar to other