Growing Up Bin Laden - Jean P. Sasson [16]
In early 1979, I found myself pregnant again, feeling that God would surely bless me with a daughter this time. Many Saudi wives envied me, for sons are most prized in my culture; still, I secretly dreamed of a little girl.
My husband, who would soon be twenty-two years old, was attending college at the King Abdul Aziz University. His main course of study was in economics and management, although he took a particular interest in his religion classes. My husband also devoted time to the charity work that is so important to a true believer.
Even though I have never been involved in public life, I did overhear various discussions of events shaping the world. I heard something about the troubles in Iran, a Muslim nation near Saudi Arabia, where protesters were unhappy with the Shah and instead favored a religious government. Sure enough, in January 1979, the Shah and his family were forced to flee, making way for a Muslim cleric by the name of Khomeini to rule the large country.
As my husband became older and more educated, I noticed that a new and broader awareness of the outside world began to occupy his mind. He would occasionally comment on his disappointment with the politics of the world, and in particular with the fact that Islam was not held in greater respect. No one in our family took umbrage at his new political awareness and religiosity; Osama was highly praised for his keen interest in supporting Islam.
One evening he arrived home with a surprise announcement: “Najwa, we are going to travel to the United States. Our boys are going with us.”
I was shocked, to tell you the truth, as this was the first occasion I would accompany Osama on a trip. At that time Abdullah was a toddler and Abdul Rahman was still a babe in arms, less than a year old. Pregnant, and busy with two babies, I remember few details of our travel, except that we passed through London before flying to a place I had never heard of, a state in America called Indiana. Osama told me that he was meeting with a man by the name of Abdullah Azzam. Since my husband’s business was not my business, I did not ask questions.
I was worried about Abdul Rahman because he had become quite ill on the trip and was even suffering with a high fever. Osama arranged for us to see a doctor in Indianapolis. I relaxed after that kindly physician assured us that Abdul Rahman would soon be fine.
When people make the unexpected discovery that I have visited the United States, I am sometimes questioned about my personal opinion of the country and its people. This is surprisingly difficult to answer. We were there for only two weeks, and for one of those weeks, Osama was away in Los Angeles to meet with some men in that city. The boys and I were left behind in Indiana with a girlfriend whom I would rather not name for her own privacy and safety.
My girlfriend was gracious and guided me on short trips out of her home, for I would have never ventured out alone. We even went into a big shopping mall in Indianapolis.
I was surprised that the landscape looked very flat, and so different in many ways from Saudi Arabia. As for the people, from what I experienced on that brief outing, I came to believe that Americans were gentle and nice, people easy to deal with. As far as the country itself goes, my husband and I did not hate America, yet we did not love it.
There was one incident that reminded me that some Americans are unaware of other cultures. When the time came for us to leave America, Osama and I, along with our two boys, waited for our departure at the airport. I was sitting quietly in my chair, relaxing, grateful that our boys were quiet.
Suddenly my instinct warned me to look around. Sure enough, I saw an American man gawking at me. I knew without asking that his unwelcome attention had been snagged by my black Saudi costume, consisting of a face veil, head scarf, and abaaya. That curious man was exhausting himself pacing back and forth