psychologically prepared for unfamiliar and complete freedom.
Because of the unusual times brought about by war, Aisha managed to have herself appointed a volunteer at one of the local hospitals, and nothing would do but for my daughter to seek the same appointment at that institution. This she did two days a week after her school day ended. It was a marvelous experience for Maha, for although she was forced to wear her abaaya and head scarf, she was not required to wear the hated veil once she was inside the hospital doors.
When the war ended, Maha refused to go back to the old ways. She held tight to her newfound freedom and begged her father and me to allow her to continue her work at the hospital.
Our approval was reluctantly given.
One afternoon when Maha was expected at the hospital, our driver was waiting in the front drive. I decided to go and hurry her along. By some whim of circumstance, I happened to enter Maha's room just as my daughter was putting a small caliber pistol into a brown leather holster strapped to her upper leg.
I was struck dumb! A weapon!
Kareem happened to be home for the afternoon siesta, and upon hearing our raised voices, he came to investigate. After an emotional scene, Maha confessed that during the war, she and Aisha had begun to arm themselves, in the event that the Iraqi army broke through to Riyadh! Now that the war was over, she thought she might need protection from the morals police, who had begun to threaten women in the street.
The "morals" or "religious police," sometimes called the mutawwa, are members of the "Committee for Enforcing the Right and Forbidding the Wrong." Now that the foreign journalists had departed the kingdom at the end of the Gulf War, these zealots were more active than we could ever recall, initiating arrests and prosecutions against women in my country.
Maha and Aisha had decided they would not endure the attentions of these zealots let loose upon innocent women. I looked at my daughter in alarm and disbelief! Was she planning to fire upon a man of religion?
Kareem learned that the weapon belonged to Aisha's father. He, like many Arab men, had quite a collection of firearms and had not missed the two pistols his daughter and Maha had stolen.
Imagine our horror when we learned that the pistol was loaded and that it had no safety feature.
Maha tearfully confessed that she and Aisha had practiced firing the pistols in a vacant lot at the back of Aisha's home!
To Maha's dismay, her enraged father confiscated the illegal weapon and bundled her into his Mercedes. Dismissing his driver, Kareem drove like a madman across the city of Riyadh to the home of Aisha in order to return the gun and warn Aisha's parents of our children's dangerous activities.
The result of our bizarre discovery was a hasty conference called between ourselves and Aisha's parents. Both our daughters were sent to Aisha's room.
Aisha's mother and I, covered still by our black veils, sat in our world of separations and discussed the children we had brought into the world. Oddly enough, for once in my life I was pleased to be veiled, for I could stare in undisguised contempt at Aisha's father, a man I knew to be a molester of young girls. Surprisingly, he was a youthful man of dignified appearance.
I thought to myself, beware of those who look like a rose, for even roses have spikes. With our daughters the main topic of the evening, I had little time to dwell upon the dark secrets of the home we were visiting.
What Kareem and I uncovered that evening about our eldest daughter's shocking convictions will haunt our memories until we cease to walk the earth.
While I question the unjust practices and cruel customs inflicted upon the female population of Saudi Arabia by those who so rigidly interpret-and thus often misinterpret-the laws laid down by the Prophet, there is no doubt in my mind of the existence of one God as preached by his messenger, Mohammed. Our three children have been