Growing Up Bin Laden - Jean P. Sasson [17]
Little could he know that under the veil, my eyes were fastened on him, too. That funny man was wearing out his shoes coming one way and then going another, each pass bringing him closer to me. With a jaw dropped open in surprise, and curious eyes growing as large as big bugs popping from his skull, he actually stopped to gape at my veiled face. I did not react, of course, even though he took enough time to stare at me from every possible angle.
I wondered what my husband was thinking. I took a side glance at Osama and saw that he was intently studying the curious man. I knew that my husband would never allow the man to approach me, so I was not worried about what would happen.
Later when my husband and I discussed the incident, we were both more amused than offended. That man gave us a good laugh, as it was clear he had no knowledge of veiled women, or that the Muslim woman under the black cloak covered her face and body because she chose to do so.
We returned to Saudi Arabia none the worse for our experiences.
Thankfully Abdul Rahman’s health improved, and I had an easy time when my third child was born. Sa’ad came to us as a smiling baby. Of course, Osama received many congratulations on being the father of three sons in a row.
Other dramatic events occurred during the year 1979, bringing much worry to Muslims, although to tell you the truth I was so busy with three babies that I noticed little of the world outside my four walls.
One significant event adversely affected my own family, including the lives of my children born and yet to be born. In December of 1979, the Soviet Union invaded Afghanistan, beginning a brutal occupation against our Muslim brothers. Although many Saudis and Muslims from other lands were dismayed by the attack, my husband appeared more agitated than most. He constantly sought news of what was happening in Afghanistan, whether from Muslim sources or international news media. The more he learned, the more anxious he became.
I had no idea what might be happening in that faraway land, but whatever it was, my husband was highly affected. When I gathered my nerve to press for information, Osama simply said that a great evil had taken over a Muslim land. He was more upset than I had ever seen him regarding stories of innocent Muslim women and children who were being imprisoned and tortured to death.
The accounts he knew but refused to share must have been horrific, for it seemed that my husband’s heart had been burned to a crisp.
By this time Osama was an adult in every way, and his reactions were those of a man who knew what he must do. He was at the forefront of the Saudi campaign to offer assistance to our beleaguered brethren in Afghanistan. In the beginning, his busy campaign emphasized the gathering of money to support the tribal leaders in Afghanistan who were fighting a fully fledged war against the invader. There were successful money drives at the mosques, and within the bin Laden family unit, for they were a very generous family. All wanted to contribute, but few worked harder than Osama to raise funds on behalf of the Afghan victims.
Soon, the war in Afghanistan began to take over my husband’s life.
Osama made plans to travel to Pakistan, a neighboring country to Afghanistan where many Muslims were gathering. My husband said that he would take the charity funds he had collected and purchase food, medical supplies, and weapons. After arriving in Pakistan, he would organize trucks and drivers to deliver the supplies to the Afghan fighters.
Before Osama left on his trip, he surprised me by purchasing a large twelve-apartment building in Jeddah, not too far from the home of his mother, which he said would be our new home. My feelings were mixed; I was glad because our growing family needed space, but sad because I had grown accustomed to the company of his mother and her family, all of whom I loved.
Osama took me to see our new building located in the Azazia Village 8, close to Macarona Street. The building was nicely built out of pale colored stone. I was rather