American Chick in Saudi Arabia (8 page)

Asma simply does not believe me when I tell her that marriage and motherhood are not my goals in life. Besides, I have been married twice. Although married to fine men whom I once loved, and still respect, I found myself bored and restless.

Despite her great beauty and endless talk about pleasing her husband, Asma does have a serious and thoughtful side to her. Sitting alone and talking, she is surprisingly relaxed and open, seemingly willing to talk about any subject. Perhaps that is because none of her Saudi friends are around, ready to judge. I know from my short time in the kingdom that all Saudis worry over Saudi opinion. All Saudis I have met act more relaxed around Westerners.

Asma readily answers my questions about her education at a prestigious girl's school in Switzerland.

I am sorry to learn that Asma chose to stop her schooling and return to Saudi Arabia to get married.

"Europe made me uncomfortably free," Asma confesses with a flippant air.

Her answer is so unexpected that my own voice rises sharply with surprise at her astounding revelation. "You are uncomfortable with freedom?"

"You asked how I could leave Europe and return to a life behind the veil? Well, I am telling you."

"Are you telling me that freedom was the problem?" My eyes narrowed. "Asma, there are people all over our world who die for freedom."

With a faraway look in her eyes, Asma whispers, "Your freedom is not my freedom." She leans closer to me. "Jean, do you know that women in Europe become intimate with men on the first night of their meeting?"

I clamp my teeth together before admitting, "Well. Some women, Asma. Not all."

Asma makes a clicking sound, meaning "no," with her tongue. "No. You are wrong. Most Western women act like men. I knew seven girls very well at my boarding school. Six of the seven thought sex was a joke. As we got ready to go out at night these women would take bets about who would get into bed with a man the fastest!"

I nod. The sexual revolution of the 1960s had definitely spread around the globe. Yet, I so want to convince this bright woman that freedom should be her goal. "Listen, please. In the West, females are free to make mistakes. Then they must try to sift through the problems created by that mistake. That is the beauty of a normal life. Ordinary people make mistakes. Ordinary people learn from those mistakes and hopefully do better the next time around."

I watch for a moment, thinking.

Asma makes a rumbling sound in her throat before speaking with arrogant certainty. "Such mistakes do not make an honorable life for a virtuous woman. My great-grandfather was a proud Bedouin. He would not rest in paradise if his great-granddaughter was polluted in that atmosphere."

I watch quietly as she fusses with her hair. "So, I told my father that for the sake of family honor, I wanted to come back to Saudi Arabia. I wished to have an early marriage."

I am searching for a convincing argument. "Well, Asma, no one could force you to take up bad habits. I knew plenty of women in college who drank alcohol and smoked cigarettes, but I knew many others who did not. In Europe, you were free to say no." I lean forward to emphasize my point. "It's all about freedom. The freedom to do right, or to do wrong. Personal freedom."

She twists the largest of three enormous diamond rings around her finger and then speaks again. "I felt unclean around those women."

I pick up my soda and spin the ice cubes with my finger, giving myself time to form the perfect response. "Asma, Saudi women must change their own lives. There is little that others can do for you. Wealthy and educated women can be the salvation for every Saudi woman. Very few Saudi women have the opportunity to travel to another country, acquire an education, and experience complete freedom. You should have taken that chance to prove to everyone that you could make the most of freedom without sinking to the immoral depths that freedom allows." I grimace as I shrug my shoulders. "Here you are so confined."

"My heart is not confined!"

"You are confined in many ways, Asma."

The true misery of my own experience under the veil hovers nearby, but I say nothing for fear my story will be misinterpreted. I know firsthand what it felt to walk veiled in the hot desert sun and to bake under the black cloak. I know with certainty that many women in the kingdom have no say-so over who they will marry. I know that there are many miserable women in the kingdom, and that their misery could be relieved by a good dose of freedom to make their own decisions.

Her voice is firm. "Despite the troubles for women in my country, I wanted to live a Saudi life. I prefer my life to the life of a European woman." She smiles. "Saudi life is best for Saudi women."

I sigh deeply, thinking that my efforts have been futile once again. I sadly reflect on the lives of wealthy Saudi women. From my personal experiences, it is evident that so many wealthy females within the kingdom are devoted to little else but frivolity, with their thoughts focused mainly on their looks and their luxurious possessions.

I study Asma's face and figure. She stands framed against the beauty of a priceless tapestry as she justifies her life behind the veil.

My Saudi friend meets every standard of beauty, Eastern or Western. Her hair is a mesh of rich raven and her skin is bright and clear. Her face is Arab perfection. Her chocolate eyes are large and full. Her nose is defining without dominating. Her mouth is small, but her lips are full and colorful. Her neck is smooth. Her shoulders are broad. Her figure is buxom, but her long legs counter her full figure. Her hands are baby-soft and graced with long fingers adorned in costly jewelry.

Asma is a perfect vision of beauty. I had heard gossip about the benefits of her beauty at a women's party. Asma, I was told, enjoyed more offers of marriage than all of her five full sisters and eleven half-sisters combined.

Two years ago, she married an exceptionally wealthy and powerful Saudi executive involved in the oil industry. Not surprising, her husband is a third cousin on her mother's side of the family.

Again and again I have been told by Saudi men and women that a marriage between cousins is a clever idea. Such a marriage, so the thinking goes, enriches one's extended family rather than weakening it.

I wonder if Saudis will ever change their thinking on this incredibly incorrect idea. Accustomed for generations to living by rigid tradition, they often have great difficulty accepting scientific facts.

I've been told that Asma's husband, Khalid, is one of the wealthiest non-royals in the kingdom. He is more than twenty years her senior, but she tells me that she feels treasured by the wisdom of an older husband. She is extremely proud to be his only wife.

I inwardly wince as Asma complacently announces, "I follow my husband's advice on every important matter."

Asma's full lips are now pulsing with words of certainty. "I am proud to be a Saudi woman. I dislike it when people from the West discuss our lives and talk about our misery, even as they admit they have never met a Saudi woman!" She fingers the circlet of diamonds around her neck before tugging at the luscious gown wrapped loosely about her form. "And I believe that my veil protects me."

A smile breaks over my face. "Oh?"

I had heard Saudi women offer this argument many times over the past few years. To my profound bewilderment, many are convinced that the restrictive veil and numerous social restrictions protect them.

Asma relishes drama, and now her voice climbs as she counts off the arguments for her controlled Saudi life on her fingers.

"We have the best society for women. God had the perfect plan for men and women. Men are strong and women are weak. Men have their role as protectors. Women have their role as nurturers."

She snaps her fingers, eager to convert me to her way of thinking. "God made men and women so that every part of both will fit. The man's chest and belly is flat so it will not crush a woman's full chest. The male organ is a perfect match for the woman's secret place. The skin of a man is too strong to stretch and make room for babies, unlike the flexible skin of a female. After an infant is welcomed to this earth, someone must take care for it. Are men suitable for such work? No. It is a woman's job."

She pauses for a moment.

"Girls are now educated, but God put a special internal ingredient in a woman's center. Our hearts pull us to our families. If I could not see my infant daughter every day, I would shrivel like a desert flower in the noonday sun."

With those dramatic words, Asma's body twirls in a circle then crumples as she portrays the look of a wilting flower.

I burst out laughing. Asma is as convincing and talented as a trained actress.

She pulls herself up, her lips forming into a sexy pout. "Jean, women are happiest at home."

I take another sip of my soda before teasing her. "Okay. Okay. You've converted me! I'll buy the thickest and heaviest veil the next time I go shopping in Riyadh. Perhaps I'll become the fourth wife of a wealthy sheik."

A frown crosses Asma's face as she drops down on the dark-blue silk sofa. She knows that I am not seeking to marry any Saudi man. She does not appreciate my attempt at humor. "Do not tease me, Jean." With a dominating personality backed by wealth, she is accustomed to obedience from those females around her. She takes a few deep breaths, waiting for me to bridge the small gap in our conversation.

Asma is disarmingly childlike when she sulks.

I resume the conversation. "Asma, we are from totally different worlds. Of course we see women's roles in our own way." I think for a minute then say, "People always defend what they know."

She quickly revisits the theme of my visit. "Once you learn how to
get
a man and how to
keep
a man, your thinking will change!"

I can barely contain my merriment at Asma's total focus on the subject of men.

She playfully tosses a small square pillow at me.

I throw it back and she yelps. Her vitality and high spirits instantly return.

When I first arrived in Saudi Arabia, I concluded that a society where women were veiled, guarded, and controlled by men would produce females uninterested in sex. I was wrong. Nearly every Saudi woman I know is passionately preoccupied with the three important topics of men, sex, and marriage.

At every Saudi female function, men, marriage, and motherhood follow fashion as the prime focus of conversation. If a woman is
not
married, the dialogue centers around single men considered good catches. If the woman
is
married, the exchange revolves around birthing and babies and the importance of sons. If the woman happens to be of a certain age, the conversation focuses on her marriageable sons and grandsons.

I have never known women more obsessed with every detail involving relationships with the opposite sex.

Since I have been in the kingdom for several years and remain unmarried, Asma is committed to the idea that I am a failure as a woman. The fact that Peter Sasson and I had a rare and serious argument the week before has excited her. The following day he traveled out of the kingdom to Europe. In Asma's opinion, the argument was just cause for a crash course in how to catch a new man.

Asma insists that she will be my instructor, often hinting that she has perfected the art of keeping a man's interest.

Asma claims, "I keep Khalid so contented that no other woman comes to his mind." She proudly announces, "Not even in his sleep!"

Admittedly, I am bewildered at the concept of anyone teaching a southern American woman ploys for ensnaring men. Women from America's Deep South are well-known for their feminine wiles. But out of curiosity, I am eager to hear Asma's wisdoms.

I lurch in alarm when Asma leaps from the sofa and squeals.

"What?" I ask.

"Khalid will be home soon!" She dashes from the room. "I must prepare myself!"

I am baffled. Already Asma is an image of feminine perfection. What else could she possibly do to prepare for her husband's arrival?

"Tonight I will give you your first lesson," she shouts as she passes through an open doorway.

I cannot restrain my delight at Asma's childlike excitement.

Asma, like many Saudi women, is a study in contrasts. She is a relatively well-educated woman who can discuss international events. Yet she can, and often does, lapse into childlike dramatics. She will weep when hearing a sad story, yet she can be unkind to her own servants.

While waiting, I stroll through the living quarters of Asma's palace, which glitters with priceless furnishings. Each room reaches up to a towering ceiling and is filled with over-size furniture. The sitting room alone can easily accommodate a hundred guests.

I have been a guest in several royal palaces. In what often seems a stiff competition, each new Saudi palace is designed and furnished to be more extravagant than those already built. Bathroom and kitchen fixtures are fashioned out of gold. Exquisite furniture imported from Italy adorns immense rooms. Sofas are cushioned with silk fabrics. Priceless carpets soften every step. Brilliant chandeliers hang overhead.

At meals and parties, banquet tables are laden with fish, fowl, fruit, and rare delicacies. Flowered centerpieces are flown in from the East. The desert air is scented with heavy perfumes. Every surface is lovely and shimmers with golden tones.

Asma's pink palace is perched on the shoreline of the Red Sea. Earlier she announced that several royals are neighbors. When I glance out the floor-to-ceiling windows, I can see that Asma's small garden is dotted with blooming flowers and swaying palm trees. I am in a desert kingdom but I could be in sultry Hawaii.

I wait in the windowed sitting room for Asma to make her grand entrance.

An hour later Asma glides dramatically through the doorway. Her beauty is so exquisite that she could and should forgo cosmetic assistance. But her makeup is heavily applied. Her dark-lidded eyes bring to mind the beauty of Elizabeth Taylor in the movie
Cleopatra
. Her black hair is pulled back on one side and adorned with a jeweled rose. A ruby-and-diamond necklace matches her ruby earrings and two diamond bracelets. She has replaced three diamond rings with two of the largest ruby rings I've ever seen.