Growing Up Bin Laden - Jean P. Sasson [32]
As Osama’s two wives and six lively sons boarded a commercial flight in Jeddah to fly to the Peshawar international airport, I was eager to see what my husband had been seeing for the past five years.
Compared to the restraint of Saudi Arabia, Peshawar felt like a colorful place for a Muslim city, with people in various ethnic costumes traveling around in garishly painted buses and taxis. Being accustomed to isolation, I thought the city looked dazzling. After the Russians invaded Afghanistan in 1979, Peshawar had become a virtual refugee camp for the Pashtun of Afghanistan, so there were even burqa-clad women shopping in the sidewalk bazaars. The burqa serves the same purpose as the abaaya, which is to cloak a modest Muslim woman from head to toe, although the styles of the two costumes are different. While the Saudi abaaya is black, a burqa can be pastel blue, yellow, brown, or other colors. The design is quite showy, with a lattice screen covering a woman’s eyes, while there are embroidered designs on the front, and tiny pleats billow out from the back.
Osama had found a beautiful villa with enough room for his growing family. Although enjoying the change of scenery, Khadijah and I continued to live in virtual isolation, with our family life carrying on as usual, while Osama continued his business outside our home, even making frequent trips into Afghanistan. I was pleased that Osama devoted more time to our sons, and on one or two occasions, he even took our eldest, Abdullah, who was eight years old, with him into Afghanistan.
After spending three summer months in Peshawar, Osama said that he would escort us back to Jeddah, for our two eldest sons were already enrolled in school. Since the trip had gone well, from that point it was not unusual for us to spend our summers in Peshawar.
A year after the birth of Khadijah’s first son, Ali, I found myself pregnant yet again. This time, after five sons, I was certain I would have a daughter. Although my husband was even more involved in the war in Afghanistan, he returned to me in Jeddah for the birth. When the sixth child turned out to be another boy, we gave him the most special name for a Muslim, which is Mohammed.
My six sons, together with Ali, made the bin Laden home decidedly lively. I’m sure that many men were in awe of my husband and his house of seven sons.
Soon after Mohammed was born, my husband approached me regarding his desire to take a third wife. According to my husband, the time was coming when Islam would need many more followers, and he wanted to have more sons and daughters to carry forth the message of God. On this occasion Osama suggested that he would be pleased if I would find him a suitable wife. After thinking about this for only a few days, I agreed. My heart told me that if I did this important thing for him and for Islam, my love for my husband would grow even greater.
Surely God was guiding me in this important duty, for within a few weeks of our conversation, I met a lovely Saudi woman from Jeddah. Her name was Khairiah Sabar, and she was a highly specialized teacher of deaf-mute children.
For me, it was important that the women my husband married were devout. Khairiah was very religious, but she had other qualities that drew me to her. From the first moment my eyes saw her charming face, I liked Khairiah. Every new discovery about her religious life and her fine Sabar family increased my affection. I went back and forth between Osama and Khairiah’s family, making the routine agreements on dowry and other points, so that I could arrange their engagement.
By the time their wedding came to pass, I had grown to love Khairiah as a precious sister. My sincere affection for her has grown with each passing year.
I helped Khairiah to settle into her separate apartment in our large home. Her fresh presence added to my pleasure, and we spent many hours reading and discussing the Koran and other aspects of our religion.
While Osama’s third wedding had made 1985 exciting, 1986