Princess: Stepping Out of the Shadows, стр. 6
An ancient setting comes to life for me, in multicoloured scenes. There is a vast plateau, rising loftily to nearly 12,000 feet. Blue skies sparkle above. The hue of dark golden sand stretches in every direction. The green of lush oases and palm-studded villages occasionally breaks the rolling visage of the swirling peaks of sand. Water is unseen to my eyes and most would claim that in the arid waste of Arabia water cannot exist, but I know otherwise, and if I had the ability to drop to the sands to explore the wadi I know that drinkable waters exist in shallow wells.
But that I cannot do.
I see a small, mud-coloured village. People scurry under stunted palms, wearing long garments and head coverings to guard their skin and hair from a searing desert sun capable of burning the flesh off their bodies. These people are short and thin but strong because survivors of desert life must be physically sturdy to combat the harsh environment, toiling day after day in a struggle to find or produce food.
These people belong to a structure of families united in tribes. Before Prophet Mohammed, Arabia was not a country ruled by one political component. Indeed, occupants of Arabia felt duty and loyalty only to their tribe. Each was ruled over by the sheik chosen by leaders of the clan. The sheik would come from a prominent family considered wise in matters of conflict, whether war with other tribes or discord within the tribe.
Most living in Arabia during the ancient days were nomad Bedouins, people who followed the seasonal rains as they moved their scarce and skinny flocks from one pastureland to another. The desert belonged to the territorial Bedouin and no one could cross the sands without permission – and, in most cases, monetary payment for the privilege of using the ancient paths. Route charging was one of the few methods of generating revenue for the Arabian Bedouins.
But during those ancient times there were others besides the Bedouins living in Arabia. There were townspeople who settled to live in villages near the wadis, such as those I am now watching, and people such as my own al-Sa’ud family. Where the soil permitted, men and women strained to coax vegetables and grains from the earth. Others cultivated orchards, while a few grew aromatic plants such as frankincense or cupped trees to extract myrrh from the trunks.
Suddenly, in my mind’s eye, I see a small herd of camels and a few prancing horses. Arabs love horses above all belongings, but the camel has always been the desert dweller’s best friend. The camel provides reliable transportation, milk for nourishment, urine for health and beauty treatments, dung to burn for fuel, meat for meals, and hide to make clothing and tents. Without the camel, it is doubtful that human life could have existed in the bleakness of the sands.
Suddenly I realize that these townspeople are assembling at a fair, which was a common way of bringing together farmers, merchants and poets. At such fairs they sold their wares and occasionally enjoyed being entertained.
It is as though the scenes spread before me are led by my own thoughts, for at that moment my eyes see entertainers and my ears hear artists singing their creations to musical accompaniment. These men are poets who favour certain musical instruments, such as reed pipes, flutes and tambourines. There are girls dressed in ordinary clothing of the time performing in a carefree manner, actions rarely seen in modern day Arabia. They are participating in the amusement by dancing, which is a bit of a shock, until I remind myself that during the days of ignorance, which was the time before Islam, the people of the Arabian desert lived much as they pleased without any regulatory practices regarding the mixing of men and women. In those early years, it was not considered indecent for women to dance with unbridled joy while men who did not know them personally savoured the sight.
I notice a few women who are not moving to the beat of the music but are watching the poets and the dancers from the background. I wonder who they are. Are they the wives of the poets? Are they interested observers? Either could be the case, for all Arabs – men, women and children – love poetry.
Poets were, and are still, held in high esteem in Saudi Arabia – adored by their fans, a little like rock stars today. Since the beginning of civilization in Arabia, poetry and the fullness of language has been a source of great pride in our culture. The art of words in the desert is part of an oral tradition, with stories heard, remembered and then passed down through the generations.
Nothing has changed from that day until now when the topic is the Arab love of poetry. Then, as now, we are poets at heart, for the Arab temperament is disposed to intense feelings. Poems are written as rhymes, with endless verses quoted to honour warriors, kings and the incomparable beauty of Arab women. I know that in ancient times tribes often competed against each other and the winning poetry was named ‘the Golden Songs’ and protected like treasures in the coffers of kings or leaders by other titles. Perhaps I am watching such a poetry contest as I hover over ancient Arabia.
There are no veiled women in attendance but that does not surprise me – I know from my life’s work of studying the status of women from ancient to modern