Growing Up Bin Laden - Jean P. Sasson [13]
I knew that the women were joking and that my husband and his brothers were not crazy, although sadly enough the fears of the bin Laden women came true when Osama’s older brother, Salem, died a few years later in a plane crash.
In addition to new cars with big engines, my husband treasured nature more than anyone I have ever known. Nothing brought him more satisfaction than having a full day to take a quick drive into the desert, where he would leave his car while he took long walks. He was highly interested in everything made by God, down to the smallest plant and the smallest animal put on our earth.
After visiting my Auntie Allia, I would take my Koran and devote a few quiet hours in our family garden to further study of our religion.
Sometimes I would telephone my mother to catch up on family events in Syria. Although I experienced moments of melancholy at being so far away from my parents and siblings, the sadness did not linger because I knew I was exactly where I belonged, at my husband’s side.
Later in the day I would spend time on my various hobbies. I was particularly interested in planning the home that Osama and I would have after we started our family. Looking at pictures of elegantly decorated homes, I dreamed of the day when I would have the opportunity to furnish and beautify my own home. Osama had smilingly assured me that I would be in complete charge of the decoration.
Soon after arriving in Jeddah, I had also become interested in sewing my own clothes. Although my dresses were simple, I enjoyed studying fashion magazines and selecting the designs I liked, then carefully drawing a pattern on thin paper. If I had suitable material, I would very cautiously cut the fabric and sew the pieces together. Otherwise, I would send our driver to purchase materials and supplies. Making our confused driver, who had lived most of his life in a small village in Yemen, understand the importance of the specific weight and color of ladies’ dress fabric was never easy. I smile today when I think of those tortuous conversations, although it was not funny at the time.
But such was life in Saudi Arabia; we women remained in seclusion most of the time. I was rarely frustrated, but on occasion I felt my nerves frayed and needed a change of scenery. When that happened, Auntie Allia would volunteer to escort me on a rare trip to a commercial establishment to select a supply of pretty fabrics.
Such outings had their own frustrations. I often read postings on the windows and doors of dry goods shops declaring that women were forbidden to enter. Most Saudi-owned shops were managed by men from other countries such as Pakistan, India, or other Arab lands. Even if females are allowed to enter the store, most Muslim women did not feel comfortable conversing with a man not of their family.
Despite such obstacles, sometimes I would meet with success and my reward would be a lovely dress to wear for my husband or to exhibit at one of the female family functions. Other times I would be forced to throw the dress and the pattern in the bin.
I still painted on canvas, although less than before.
I still read, but because of my goal to become more knowledgeable about my faith, I mainly read religious teachings.
My hobbies kept me busy even though I was alone for many hours each day. Often I exhausted myself by mid-afternoon and required a long nap. I trained myself to wake up with ample time to