Growing Up Bin Laden - Jean P. Sasson [41]
I was unlucky that a few days later my father had business in that shop. When he walked in, the Egyptian pulled out the coins and gave them to my father, along with the news that his young son Omar had come on an unsupervised visit to make some unusual purchases.
My father was so pleased by the man’s honesty that he presented him with one of the coins as a reward. Of course, my father was not pleased with me. I was punished severely for my deceit and theft. Yet his harsh punishment failed to put a stop to my naughty behavior. Before long I suffered from the shopping bug again. As before, I tiptoed into my mother’s room to look for money. This time I found paper money, and took about 500 Saudi riyals.
Knowing that my father had alerted his employees to keep a special watch on me, I realized the difficulty of slipping out unseen. I went into one of our bathrooms and scrambled out the window, sliding down a drainpipe before crossing the garden. I was relieved to see that the large metal gate was unlocked, saving me from a dangerous climb over the tall wall that enclosed our home. I ran to the shops, but was disheartened to discover them closed. The hour was later than I realized.
I retraced my steps, and returned the money to my mother’s secret place. Wanting to brag about my adventure, I stupidly confided in my older brother Abdullah. Abdullah looked at me sternly before marching to my mother to inform her of my late-night journey. I escaped serious punishment only because Mother was incapable of being tough on any of her children, even when we deserved a reprimand.
When my father learned of my escapades, he called me a “little villain” and ordered his men to install a barbed wire fence on top of the wall that circled our grounds. My father’s men were diligent to make the fence “rascal-proof,” as they called it. The fence was erected in the shape of a Y so that it would be impossible to scale. Proud of their work, they congratulated each other, talking about how the sheik’s son would never scale such a fence, adding that the cleverest thief would never rob the bin Laden home.
We were locked in and the world was locked out.
Within the week I had made my first of many breakouts, discovering that if I climbed the wall under the gatehouse where the guards were posted, there was one spot where I could hang by my legs and fling my upper body onto the street lamppost, first catching it with my hands and then easily sliding down that post until my short legs hit the pavement.
When the fence builders discovered I had cracked the “rascal-proof fence” to make daily escapes, they were humiliated. After that incident, my father began keeping me by his side anytime he was in Jeddah, taking me everywhere he went, claiming that his fourth son was the one who led the others into mischief because by this time my brothers were beginning to emulate me.
My brother Osman was the next one born after me. For years he was the smallest of the sons, but one day he started growing and couldn’t stop, growing fat and remaining overweight for several years. Then Osman began a rapid weight loss and became skinny, growing in stature until he reached the same height as our father. Osman was such a quiet boy that he never saw the purpose of a joke; in fact, the telling of a joke would make him angry, leading him to walk away to sulk. He was religious, but not as overly religious as our father. He did resemble his brothers in one way, as he liked animals and often rode horses.
Mohammed was the baby son for years, concentrating on playing. Little Mohammed yearned for toy cars, but because our father