Growing Up Bin Laden - Jean P. Sasson [115]
Although Muslims are not keen on dogs, my husband allowed them on the mountain because he felt their natural habit of barking would offer a good alarm system from intruders. In fact, when we lived in Khartoum my husband had purchased two big guard dogs, ordering them from a catalogue to be shipped from Europe. They were German shepherd dogs whom my husband named Safier and Za’ear. One of the biggest surprises of my life was when one of my boys told me that he had witnessed his father petting those dogs. Never would I have guessed that my cousin and husband, Osama bin Laden, would allow his fingers to caress a dog. My husband follows the words of our Prophet Mohammed, who warned Muslims that dogs are dirty and should not be touched. Sadly, those expensive dogs did not enjoy a happy ending as one was stolen and the other suffered terribly from a mysterious disease before dying.
Hopefully the dogs in Afghanistan would be more fortunate. Omar had his sweet dog, Bobby, tall, white and brown with skinny legs so long he created much conversation and hearty laughs. He had very long silky hair that many women would envy. Abdul Rahman had been given a midsized black dog that had a cute attitude. Sa’ad had gotten himself a dog, too, but the memory of that dog’s face is left behind in Afghanistan. Osman had taken possession of two little brown dogs that were very amusing. I’m sure all those dogs had names, but for the life of me, I can only remember Omar’s dog, Bobby.
Those dogs created some excitement from time to time. One day my husband was in the special room that he had set aside for his meetings with other men, as it is not proper in our society for strange men to come into a home where women are living. My husband’s office was one ledge down the mountain, so nearby that we could see his rooftop from our vantage point, coming into contact with the flat area where the children played. On that day my husband had three important visitors, men that he had never met before, so I am sure he wanted them to leave with a good impression.
It happened that our oldest sons, Abdul Rahman, Sa’ad, and Omar, were working hard that day training their dogs to protect our home. Something Abdul Rahman did spooked the dogs. Sa’ad, deciding to play a funny joke on his brother, yanked loose the leashes and off all five dogs went after Abdul Rahman’s legs and ankles. Poor Abdul Rahman panicked when the dogs starting nipping at him, so he ran away. He was galloping like a race horse, running too fast for the terrain, failing to watch the path as he kept turning back to make sure he was leaving those dogs behind. As luck would have it, Abdul Rahman ran right off the ledge and onto the top of the wooden and straw roof covering Osama’s office.
While my husband and his visitors were discussing the most serious world events, tree branches and dried grasses suddenly rained on their heads. A child came next, arms flailing and legs kicking. My panicked son plunged straight through the roof, his fall interrupted by the hard floor. Stunned by the uncontrolled tumble, Abdul Rahman lay crumpled at the feet of my husband’s astonished visitors.
Omar had very rapidly maneuvered his way down the mountainside by this time and reported that the sight would have been amusing had it not been so scary. My husband and his visitors did not move a muscle, sitting as still as stones while Abdul Rahman crashed in amongst them. Omar said he looked carefully at his father’s face to see what would happen, preparing to run for safety if necessary, but Osama kept his business face, as though it was perfectly normal for a child to plummet through the roof.
After a long drawn-out silence, Osama slowly dusted the debris from