Growing Up Bin Laden - Jean P. Sasson [168]
I decided to follow my Auntie Randa’s recommendation.
On my way to the appointment at the Education Ministry, I became confused, because there were so many big buildings in the area, and I ended up in a building that housed several television companies. Unaware that I was in the wrong place, I walked around, checking the doors for the name of the education department.
A security officer became suspicious and asked to see my identification. Thinking nothing of it, I presented my ID. Well, the sight of my name caused the man to go into a frenzy. When I admitted that I was the son of Osama bin Laden, he arrested me!
I was taken to the Haras al-Watani, which is an office of the Saudi army, and put into a small room to be interrogated.
Two men arrived, with one talking over the other, asking why I was in the television offices, where I was going, and why I was going there. The security officer who had arrested me began lying, telling the army officer that he had realized I was up to no good when he saw me surveying the building in a very suspicious manner. I could see he was already imagining himself receiving an award for stopping a terrorist act!
That’s when everyone panicked. I was moved to a more secure place and locked in a cell. I waited there for six hours, not knowing what to do, while people kept wandering past to stare at me. Not wanting them to think of me as a troublemaker, I was too embarrassed to ask to call my family.
Finally a general arrived, and I was lucky that he was intelligent. He calmly asked me questions, and I told him the truth, which was simple. I had an appointment at the Education Ministry and had gotten lost. I had no idea I was in the wrong building, and was simply going from office to office, hoping to find the right department.
That kindly general smiled and said, “You don’t look like a terrorist to me. I believe you.” He stood up and shook my hand, and left to order my release.
The following day I returned to the area to find the correct building. The minister of education was agreeable, and registered me in a school where the students were aged seven to twelve, although there was a separate department for older students like me who had never had the opportunity to finish school.
The day came for my first classes. I have never been so ashamed. There I was, a man over six feet tall, entering a school where all the other students were children. The headmaster made it clear that he didn’t like me, asking, “What are you doing here? You are too old for this school, even the special class. Stand aside.” And so he made me stand outside until every child was directed to the proper classroom and seated. Only then was I allowed to enter the school building.
Later that day, when the headmaster discovered that I was the son of Osama bin Laden, his displeasure multiplied.
With every passing day, the headmaster made it more difficult for me to attend school. He made a rule that if I was not seated in my classroom by the starting bell, then I must go home. However, he ordered me to wait outside until all the other students had entered, often making it impossible for me to get to class on time.
I will say that I was not the only student mistreated. Any student older than twelve years old was clearly unwelcome, despite the fact his was the school with a special classroom for older students!
I told myself, “This is what my father brought me.”
I refused to allow that teacher to discourage me. I accepted his humiliations with an impassive face, finishing that difficult year, taking the exams for grade six, passing and receiving my diploma.
After that, I left school for good, realizing that the teachers in Saudi Arabia would never allow me to graduate. I was too old,