Growing Up Bin Laden - Jean P. Sasson [9]
Finally, just as I thought I could not abide the separation any longer, the day arrived when my father informed me that my Saudi Arabian residency and travel documents had been approved. Osama and his family would soon return to Syria to escort me to Jeddah, as it would not be proper for me, a Muslim woman, to travel without a guardian.
Since I had packed long before, there was little for me to do but wait for my husband and his mother and stepfather. I was told that my father would be accompanying me as well, to stay in Jeddah with us until I was settled.
The knock on the door could not come soon enough. Finally they arrived! Although we were still shy with each other, one of the happiest moments of my life was when I saw my husband’s face. We would be leaving for Jeddah in a day or two.
On the morning of our departure, I was filled with energy, dashing about, rechecking my bags, and saying my goodbyes over and over. Although I knew that nothing would ever be the same, I simply could not restrain my happiness. At some point, I did notice the dejected looks on the faces of my family, and made an attempt to curb my enthusiasm at leaving. I did not want to wound my cherished family, most particularly my dear mother. Still, when the final moment came to say goodbye, I was in a bit of a rush to start our journey.
I was about to embark on my first aeroplane journey, yet I didn’t feel a spark of fear. Ever since I was very young, I have been convinced that my life is in God’s hands. This belief keeps my nerves steady.
Although I had no fear of death, that day was a momentous one in my life, with everything changing in the blink of an eye. From that moment, my husband would be the head of our family. For the most part, his decisions would rule my life and the lives of any children we might have. From now on, I would lead a restricted life, leaving behind the possibility of driving a car or working in a job outside the home.
Then there was the dreaded veil. This was also the day when I first draped the black veil over my face and body. Although I was modestly covered in a simple dress with long sleeves that reached midway between my knees and ankles, this was not conservative enough for Saudi Arabia, a country where no part of a woman’s flesh or hair should be seen by a man outside her immediate family.
I was prepared for the inevitable, for my Auntie Allia had presented me a gift of the flowing black cloak, called an abaaya, a black scarf, and a thin face veil. The abaaya is simple with full sleeves, open in the front without any buttons or clasps. Although I did not drape the costume over my clothing while we were still in Syria, I followed Auntie Allia’s lead and covered myself within a short time of boarding the plane.
There I sat, swathed in black from head to toe. Since Saudi women who live in the cities do not expose their eyes, my entire face was covered along with everything else. Suddenly I felt myself smothering, suffering panicky thoughts about what would happen when it was time to leave my seat. Would I be able to see well enough to walk safely through a crowd? What if I stumbled and fell, crushing a small child?
Just then, I looked over at Osama and he smiled. My husband seemed very pleased that I had taken to the veil without too much excitement, although it felt strange to carry on ordinary conversations through a face curtain. Being young, I found it difficult to swallow my giggles, but somehow I managed.
Soon our plane landed, and I braced myself for the challenge of walking about with my eyes covered. I thank God that I have been blessed with firm footing as well as good vision and could see clearly enough through the thin fabric of the face veil. I fluttered about in the black curtain without harming myself or any innocent bystanders.
I stood back with Auntie Allia while our husbands dealt with the formalities of entering the kingdom. Soon we were in the long black car that would take us through the city and to my husband