Growing Up Bin Laden - Jean P. Sasson [11]
Those old homes contrasted with the new world that was racing to embrace Saudi Arabia. Modern mirrored buildings sparkled in the Jeddah sun. Behind all that costly glass, bustling newcomers lived near proper ladies closeted behind their latticed windows, ladies who must have wondered what their safe and comfortable world was coming to.
My husband made the decision to employ domestic help to assist me with general housework and kitchen duties. The woman he hired was a pleasant Ethiopian maid named Zamzam, whom I believe was delighted to acquire a position in a home where she was respected.
Early each morning my husband would awaken without any help from a clock, rising before the sun as effortlessly as if it were noontime. He would leave our home quickly to walk to the neighborhood mosque, as the muezzin, or the cleric, called out from loudspeakers that believers must come to prayer. Unless one has heard the haunting call to prayer, it is difficult to imagine, but it sounded like music to my ears.
Allah Akbar! (God is most great!) Allah Akbar! Allah Akbar!
I bear witness that there is no God but Allah.
I bear witness that there is no God but Allah.
I bear witness that there is no God but Allah.
I bear witness that Mohammed is the Apostle of Allah!
I bear witness that Mohammed is the Apostle of Allah!
I bear witness that Mohammed is the Apostle of Allah!
Come to prayer! Come to prayer! Come to prayer!
Come to success! Come to success! Come to success!
Allah Akbar! Allah Akbar! Allah Akbar!
There is no God but Allah!
Luckily for the Saudis, the government had decreed that a mosque would be constructed in every neighborhood, so no one had to walk a long distance to fulfill his Muslim duty of praying five times a day. Prayer time is very specific and greatly cherished as a time set aside for all Muslims to pray to their God. Every shop and every business in the kingdom closes during these times.
The Fajr, or dawn prayer, is called between the first light on the horizon and sunrise. Religious men keep watch so that the exact moment is not missed. Zohr, or the midday prayer, is called at noon. This prayer cannot end until the sun has traveled five-ninths of its journey toward sunset. Asr is the afternoon prayer, followed by Maghrigb, which must be said between sunset and the time the light on the horizon completely disappears. Isha is the final prayer of the day, to be said from the time the light of the sky turns yellow until it becomes completely dark. This is our longest prayer.
While Osama was at the mosque I would say my prayers at home, sometimes praying in our bedroom, or our sitting room, or on our balcony. Women do not pray in neighborhood mosques in Saudi Arabia, but every Muslim knows that there is no need for a special place to pray. A Muslim can bow down on the pavement and pray to God.
Our religion has many requirements, but my husband and I met our obligations gladly. It is gratifying to the heart when one pleases God with the proper devotion.
Osama would not be long at morning prayers. When he came home, we would eat breakfast. His tastes were simple; he was as contented with a piece of bread with oil or thyme as he was with the finest cuts of meat. “Najwa, do not worry,” he told me. “Whatever is available and what God gives me, I thank Him for whatever He provides.” Of course, I made certain that he had a good breakfast of cheese and bread and eggs and yogurt. And I knew from childhood that Osama did have a preferred food, which was courgettes stuffed with succulent bone marrow. That dish soon became my own favorite.
I was determined to give my husband healthy foods because his days were long and strenuous. Not only did he attend school, where it was important for him to concentrate on his lessons, but he also worked for his family’s business, the huge Saudi bin Laden Group. My husband was very serious about