Growing Up Bin Laden - Jean P. Sasson [31]
For some months the subject of Osama marrying another woman remained a big topic of discussion between us. One evening, my husband revealed his deepest thoughts, confessing that his aim was purely to have many children for Islam. Hearing his words, I suddenly found myself becoming more relaxed about the idea. My husband was not seeking a second wife out of unhappiness with me, but for the greater good of Islam.
At the end of that exchange, Osama realized that I was seeing the wisdom of his taking other wives. He gently reminded me of a very significant truth. “Najwa, if you are contented in your heart for me to take a second wife, you will gain in heaven. It is certain that your life will end in paradise.”
My heart finally became tranquil, feeling for certain that my understanding attitude would intensify righteousness in my own life. That is when Osama felt comfortable enough to set about taking a second wife. I did not ask, nor receive, permission to have a voice in the actual selection of Osama’s second wife.
And so it came to pass that Osama married again. I did not attend the wedding, but the ceremony was conducted as our faith demands. His second wife was a Saudi woman with the first name of Khadijah, the same name as the first wife of our Prophet. I was told that Khadijah was of the highly respected Sharif family, descendants of Prophet Mohammed. She was a few years older than Osama, well educated, and a teacher of girls at a school in Jeddah.
Anytime a Muslim follows Prophet Mohammed’s actions, it is a good thing. Therefore, I was gracious as I welcomed Khadijah into our large home where she was assigned her own roomy apartment, although to be honest I will say that it took some time before I easily accepted that now I would share my husband equally with another woman.
From that day forward, Osama said that he must obey the teachings of Islam regarding multiple wives. Khadijah and I would be treated the same. This meant that everything of my husband would be shared equally—his thoughts, his time, and even gift giving.
As exacting as he was about every Islamic requirement, I knew that Osama would alternate evenings between our home and the home of his new wife. And as a good Muslim wife, I knew I must accept the situation with a clean feeling and a good heart. Otherwise, I would not be rewarded in heaven.
Yet I was not prepared for the quiet atmosphere in our home on the nights Osama did not make an appearance. As a woman who rarely stepped outside the walls of my home, I missed my husband and the excitement his arrival brought. Striving to be a good Muslim, I fought my feelings of emptiness, for I knew that what my husband was doing was sanctioned by Islam.
My children were instructed to honor and respect my husband’s second wife, and I taught them to call her “Khalti” or “auntie mother’s side.”
Everything came together in a smooth manner, and soon Osama’s second wife and I were enjoying routine visits where we would share books, or read together, or even take some of our meals together. I benefited from Khadijah’s company and looked forward to our hours together. Over time we became friends.
Not long afterwards, I gave birth to my fifth son, Osman. I was so contented to look upon his sweet face that for the first time I did not mourn my failure to have a daughter.
One year after their marriage, Khadijah bore her first child, a little boy named Ali. Therefore, from the day of Ali’s birth Khadijah was called by the honorable title Um Ali, which means mother of Ali. Likewise, I had been called Um Abdullah from the first moment my son was born. Those familiar with my husband called him Abu Abdullah, for a man is also titled by his first son’s name.
From that time, Khadijah and I had our children in common. My youngest sons became Ali’s playmates.
Not so long after Ali’s birth, Osama arranged to take his family to Pakistan for the first time. Several years had passed since Osama had first promised to arrange a home for us in Peshawar,