Growing Up Bin Laden - Jean P. Sasson [74]
But he was accustomed to being number one in everything he did. He was the most skilled horseman, the best driver, the greatest boatman, the fastest runner, and the top marksman. He simply couldn’t bear the thought of looking foolish. From that day, his sons and employees were forbidden to mention that speedboat. I was told that he gave it to a surprised Sudanese who just happened to be standing nearby. I fear it gave the poor man many wild rides.
Sometimes we might return to the Nile after dark, finding swimming in the river under a starry sky a magical experience. After exhausting ourselves we would fall down on our backs on the bank and stare in wonder as the radiant moon snaked its way across the big sky. The moon’s reflection in the ancient Nile was one of the most beautiful sights I have ever seen.
Abdullah seemed to enjoy the Nile more than most, and many times I witnessed my brother sitting on the banks of the Nile, looking dreamlike into the distance.
Abdullah is five years older than me but looks little like me. He is around six feet one, slim, with dark frizzy hair and a dark complexion. Like his brothers, he was always serious. Given any chance to work, no one could match him for endurance. At the beginning of our time in Khartoum, Abdullah, the firstborn son of my parents, was responsible for the behavior and safety of his younger siblings, both male and female. This is routine in the Islamic world, where the eldest son is respected by all, as he is considered the head of the household when the father is absent. Of course, when Abdullah was young during our years in Saudi Arabia, this was not an issue as our father’s drivers and employees were in charge when our father was away fighting in Afghanistan. But by the time we arrived in Sudan, Abdullah was fifteen years old, soon to be a man, and although our father had security guards watching our home as well as the al-Riyadh Village compound, our father and mother looked to Abdullah to supervise us. If our father expected Abdullah to imitate his actions, I’m sure he was disappointed. Abdullah ruled lightly, as he was the opposite of our difficult father. Although our father was a quiet figure, and generally spoke softly, his patience hung on a short thread. He was easily angered and could reach a point of violence in an instant.
But Abdullah was patient and kind and quietly encouraged all the siblings to get along. I’m sure that we often caused Abdullah exasperation, but no matter what silly things we might do, I can’t recall Abdullah ever expressing displeasure with his younger charges.
I’ve often thought how different our lives could have been had our father taken parenting lessons from Abdullah, for I was certain that my brother had the character and personality to be a kind and understanding father.
Chapter 13
The Scent of Death
OMAR BIN LADEN
A day of terror started out like any other. We said our morning prayers, changed into our uniforms, attended school, returned home to eat, then played around until the Asr prayer. After prayers, we trooped to the guest house for our religious lessons. Our three instructors were waiting for us, with our Moroccan teacher taking the lead on that day.
After a brief lecture on Koranic texts, we were gathered in a circle, quietly studying, when a bullet whistled through the open window and fell at Sa’ad’s feet. Sa’ad was quick to tell the teacher, “Sir, someone is attacking us.”
The teacher knew the happy-go-lucky Sa’ad very well and had reason to believe that Sa’ad might be playing a little joke. He kindly told Sa’ad not to worry, that he believed the sound had originated from an electrical spark. “Continue your studies, Sa’ad. I will investigate the matter.