American Chick in Saudi Arabia by Jean Sasson Read Free Book Online Page B

stare.
    On impulse I lift the front of my veil and show her my American face.
    The lines around her eyes tighten once more. She is smiling again.
    I understand this Bedouin woman is unique when she pats the ground with her hand. She is inviting a stranger to share her mat.
    I throw my veil over my head and sit. Several Saudi men stare at my unveiled face, but they do not move in our direction. None of the men are Mutawain , so I am safe. Should a religious man witness a veiled woman tossing aside her veil, she would be singled out for attack. These men probably assume that I am the foreign wife of a non-Saudi Muslim.
    Peter continues to squat, prepared to translate.
    I learn that her name is Malaak, which she proudly proclaims, means "Angel."
    First I must answer Malaak's questions.
    Leaning toward Peter while keeping her eyes on my face, she wants to know where I come from, what am I doing in her country, and what is the true reason I am veiling.
    Malaak startles me when she reaches out and squeezes my arm with her hand.
    "Too skinny," she declares.
    Peter laughs, telling me her words.
    She lightly brushes my face with her hennaed hand.
    "Too white," she exclaims, then asks Peter. "Why did you wed a female too small to give you healthy sons? There are many strong Bedouin who can fill your home with children."
    Peter laughs a second time.
    I don't take offense, as this is a polite controversy. Within a short while of arriving in the kingdom, I listened courteously as Saudis politely informed me that large, robust women give birth to tall, healthy sons. At five foot and two inches tall and weighing one hundred and ten pounds, I am not up to their physical standards for top quality human reproduction.
    With a twinkle in her eyes, she directs her next question to me and waits patiently while Peter translates.
    "Tell me. Why do you veil?"
    This wise Bedouin woman has quickly seen through me. I decide to tell her the truth.
    My words come from Peter's mouth.
    "I am from a country where women do not veil," I confess. "I felt drawn to live your life. To know how it feels to live under the veil."
    She nods with a new force, believing I am envious. "The Bedouin life is best."
    "I wish to know your Bedouin life."
    "What is it you do not know?" Her voice carries a shade of surprise, as though she believes the Bedouin life is well-known throughout the world.
    "Everything." I pause. "Your childhood." Yes, I would start at the beginning. "What do you remember of your childhood?"
    She sits silently for a brief time.
    How I long to see her full face, to sit freely as companions, discovering all there is to know about the other. Given the opportunity, I know in my heart that we could become devoted friends.
    She begins to speak slowly. "I was the oldest of many children. I remember small things of the early life. There is a picture of my father's tent in my mind. It was made of black goat hair. Six poles kept it upright. I liked to swing around those poles. My mother was always cooking. I remember a sweet taste of goat meat and rice. I remember the goats and the camels." Malaak is smiling once again, pleased to entertain me. "That's what I remember."
    "You say the Bedouin life is the best life. What was the best for you?"
    She does not hesitate. "The family. The family was the best. The desert brings a family close. There are goats to be tended, meals to be cooked, tents to be mended, and water to be found. My father watched the sky for clouds. When rain clouds appeared, we took down our tent and gathered our livestock and followed the clouds across the desert."
    I know that the term Bedouin means "people of the desert." The harsh conditions of desert nomadic life produced a unique people who had a fierce love for the desert, despite its brutalities. This Bedouin woman displays every unique aspect of the prideful Bedouin character that I had previously imagined.
    I now come to the sensitive questions. I edge closer to Malaak.
    "When did you