Princess by Jean P. Sasson Read Free Book Online Page B

bride. No less than fifteen women were attending to the various wedding details. The first ceremony, the halawa, was performed by our mother and her oldest auntie. All of Sara’s body hair had to be removed, except her eyebrows and head hair. A special mixture of sugar, rosewater, and lemon juice that would be spread over her body was now boiling over a low fire in the kitchen. When the sweet paste dried on her body, it would be removed, and Sara’s body hair would be ripped off with the sticky mixture. The aroma was sweet-smelling, but Sara’s yelps of pain made me shudder in fear.
    The henna was prepared for the final rinse through Sara’s luxuriant curls; her hair would now shine with beautiful high-lights. Her nails were painted bright red, the color of blood, I reflected, gloomily. The pale pink, lacy wedding gown hung from the doorway. The requisite diamond necklace with matching bracelet and earrings were gathered in a pile on the dressing table. Although sent over weeks ago as a gift from the groom, the jewels remained unnoticed and untouched by Sara.
    When a Saudi bride is happy, the preparation room is filled with the sounds of laughter and eager anticipation. For Sara’s wedding, the mood was somber; her attendants might as well have been preparing her body for the grave. Everyone spoke in whispers. There was no response from Sara. I found her oddly subdued in view of her spirited reactions during the past few weeks. Later, I understood her trancelike state.
    Father, concerned that Sara would humiliate the family name by voicing her objections, or even insulting the groom, had instructed one of the Pakistani palace doctors to inject her with powerful tranquilizers throughout the day. Later we discovered that the same doctor had given the groom the tranquilizers in the form of pills for Sara. The groom was told that Sara was highly nervous with excitement over the wedding, and the medicine was prescribed for a queasy stomach. Since the groom had never met Sara, in the coming days he must have assumed that she was an unusually quiet and docile young woman. But, then again, many old men in my country marry young girls; I am sure they are accustomed to the terror of their young brides.
    The beating of drums signaled the arrival of guests. At last, the women were finished with Sara. The delicate dress was slipped over her head, the zipper was raised, and the pink slippers were placed on her feet. My mother fastened the diamond necklace around her neck. I loudly announced that the necklace might as well be a noose. One of my aunties thumped me on my head and another twisted my ear, but there was no sound from Sara. We all gazed at her in awed silence. We knew no bride could be more beautiful.
    A huge tent had been erected in the backyard for the ceremony. The garden was inundated in flowers sent from Holland. With thousands of overhanging colored lights, the grounds were spectacular. Taking in the splendor, I forgot for a few moments the grimness of the situation.
    The tent was already overflowing with guests. Women from the Royal Family, literally weighed down by diamonds, rubies, and emeralds, were sharing a social event with commoners, a rare occasion. Lower classes of Saudi women are allowed to view our weddings so long as they remain veiled and do not socialize with the royals. One of my friends told me that sometimes men veil and join these women so that they can view our forbidden faces. Supposedly, all the male guests were being entertained at a major hotel in the city, enjoying the same socializing as these women guests: talking, dancing, and eating.
    At weddings in Saudi Arabia, men celebrate at one location and women at another. The only men allowed at the women’s celebration are the groom, his father, the father of the bride, and a religious man to perform the short ceremony. In this case, the groom’s father was deceased, so only our father would accompany the groom when the time arrived for him to