Growing Up Bin Laden - Jean P. Sasson [72]
Of course, we were sad to lose our pets, as we had grown to love each and every feathered friend.
Certain people were as taboo as those pigeons. There were some Sudanese that our father would not allow us to meet. We didn’t know that he had a rule against socializing with Christians until we got into trouble trying to meet them.
We noticed the Christian children soon after arriving in Khartoum. The family, consisting of a mother, father, and several sons and daughters, lived in a house across the street from our own. They were hard to miss for they were fair-skinned. They also behaved differently, children sauntering about with a relaxed ambiance. We Muslim kids lived our lives in fear that we might accidentally commit a forbidden act.
We had observed those Christians for some time, but didn’t have the courage to introduce ourselves. Then one evening my brothers and I were startled when we spotted the Christian children leaving their home. They were dressed in funny costumes that made them look like ghosts and monsters and other strange creatures. Those curiously dressed kids were also balancing small orange pumpkins on a stick. Each pumpkin had been cut so that they appeared to have a face. A candle was placed inside the pumpkin. We noticed that some Muslim children living in the compound were allowed to join them and to go to the soccer pitch where they had a party.
Never had we seen such a sight. Anyone in Saudi Arabia who appeared in public dressed as ghosts and goblins would have been arrested, tried, and imprisoned as witches, possibly put to death. We watched with envy as those children moved through the streets, kids in comical costumes carrying lighted pumpkins. They were laughing and playing around, making a lot of noise. (I was an adult before I discovered that what the little Christian kids were doing was called celebrating Halloween.) My brothers and I longed to join in the fun, but of course, our father disapproved of anyone walking around looking like a monkey or a monster, so we were forbidden to join in. Still, we thought we might sneak out later and meet those interesting children, but little did we know that our father had passed the word to his security guards to keep us apart from them.
One afternoon a few weeks later we watched as those Christian kids came outside to play. We thought our chance had come. So we ran outside, hoping to meet up. Just as we were about to introduce ourselves, one of our father’s armed security guards came running at us with such hostility that we drew away in fright. That man was shouting in the most horrible angry voice that any of us had ever heard, “Get in the house! You are not allowed! Get in the house, NOW!”
He was so heated with rage that I thought he might shoot at us. My father’s men were so neurotic to please their “prince” that nothing would have surprised me.
We took no chances. We ran into our house and the Christians ran into theirs. We were later told that we had almost committed a double taboo, because we were not allowed to play with girls or with Christians, ever.
That was that!
Not long after arriving in Sudan we suffered a bit of a family shock. Auntie Khadijah left Khartoum to return to Saudi Arabia. She had always been kindly to all the children of her husband. Most disappointing for me was that Ali left with her. Aware of my father’s traditionalist beliefs, I was surprised, for many believers insist upon maintaining control of all their children, no matter the child’s age. Auntie Khadijah was fortunate to keep custody of her three children, and in particular Ali and Amer, her two sons.
I was only a child so I never knew their private reasons for divorce, although I speculated as to the cause. Perhaps my father had become too radical for Auntie Khadijah, for although I was too young at the time to fully understand the dangers attached to his uncompromising and militant behavior, I’m sure his adult wives were much more aware, particularly Auntie Khadijah, who was an educated woman.
Perhaps she left because