Growing Up Bin Laden - Jean P. Sasson [52]
Since my father’s return from Afghanistan, he had arranged for approximately one hundred of his former Mujahideen fighters to be given visas to live in Saudi Arabia, where he settled them on our Jeddah farm. Many of those men had been refused entry to their own countries for one reason or another, and I believe that is why my father brought them to Saudi Arabia.
Our employees and the war veterans followed my father’s instructions by peacefully holding up their hands and following orders. Despite their humble behavior, we were told that they were taken away to jail. All the supplies my father had so carefully gathered were confiscated. After months of work and millions of Saudi riyals, nothing was left.
My father was so furious that he could not speak. But he could still move rapidly. I ran to keep up with his long strides as he rushed to his office in Jeddah.
From there he placed a telephone call to Crown Prince Abdullah, the half-brother of King Fahd, and the man who would one day be king, Inshallah (God willing). I listened quietly as he recounted the details of the raid to the prince.
Their conversation was brief. My father said that Crown Prince Abdullah had known nothing of the raid, but promised to investigate the matter and return with an explanation. My father thought highly of the crown prince and felt in his heart that he had been told the truth. Still, the sting of the incident had altered my father’s feelings forever, starting him on a tragic road that would destroy many lives.
He became even more angry when no further explanation was forthcoming, although my father had ongoing conversations with several high-ranking princes who said they represented Crown Prince Abdullah or King Fahd. We were relieved when the royal family ordered the release from jail of our farmworkers and my father’s war veterans.
During the autumn of 1990, members of the American military surged into Saudi Arabia. While many Saudi men were offended by the sight of a mainly Christian western army defending their honor, they were doubly traumatized by the full realization of what it meant to be protected by America and other western allies: The Kingdom of Saudi Arabia was flooded with female soldiers.
At the first sight of a capable-looking female soldier, my father became the most outspoken opponent of the royal decision to allow western armies into the kingdom, ranting, “Women! Defending Saudi men!”
No insult could be worse! My father became frustrated to the point of declaring that he could no longer accept the pollution he claimed hung in the air above any non-Muslim. He let loose a barrage of criticisms, verbally attacking the royal family, the Americans, the British, and anyone else he believed was working against the good of Islam.
My father spoke at the local mosque, sent out flyers, and made audiotapes, all criticizing the government, which he claimed was making Saudi Arabia a colony of America. The royal family became increasingly unhappy, rightfully so, for they were responsible for the well-being of all Saudis, and had made the wise decision not to put the country’s fate in the hands of my father and his twelve thousand Mujahideen, despite the fact no one denied that the men were brave fighters.
Although I loved my father, and had difficulty criticizing him, I must say that I believe the royal family behaved responsibly, and for the good of all Saudis.
My father was not appeased when the fight to dislodge Saddam’s military from Kuwait was a great success, ending quickly with very little loss of life. In fact, the easy victory seemed to anger him further, making me believe that he would have preferred defeat by a Muslim sword to victory at the hands of the infidels. His fury intensified once the Gulf War ended and it became clear that some American soldiers would remain in Saudi Arabia. He spoke from the mosque, saying, “The continued presence of American soldiers is proof that my prediction of secular pollution has begun in earnest.”
I do not know all the details, for I was still young and my father did