Three Stories One Middle East
Nader Habibi
(Story Three)
Part Three
Prince Jassem's Wish
After an early morning visit
to one of the development projects with Nidal, Prince Jassem arrived at his
office a little after eight o’clock. During their drive back to the tourism
office they talked about the full eclipse of the sun that was to take place on
June 21st.
“Too bad it won’t be visible
in Bahrain. Hamed flew to South Africa yesterday to see the eclipse from
there,” commented Prince Jassem.
“You should have gone along
with Princes Sara. Witnessing an eclipse is an experience of a lifetime.
Besides, it would have been a nice summer vacation,” Nidal responded.
“Dear Nidal, you know very
well that I’m not Hamed. I don’t put pleasure ahead of work. Besides, as much
as I want to run away from this heat, I don’t want to go to the freezing cold
weather of South Africa. It’s the beginning of winter there.”
As soon as they arrived,
Prince Jassem’s secretary, Marvin, came in to brief him on important meetings
for the day.
“You have a meeting with Dr.
David and Mr. Robert at 8:30,” reported Marvin. He was referring to two Western
consultants that had been working for the Tourism Authority for almost a year.
“Your nine o’clock
appointment is with the British journalist that Prince Hamed recommended,”
Marvin continued.
“Yes, what was his name?”
asked Prince Jassem.
“John Northon, Your
Highness,” answered Marvin.
Prince Jassem’s meeting with
the two consultants ran late. This was the third time this week that Jassem was
meeting with his consultants to go over the details of the American proposal.
Now that his father had forced him to pick the American contractor for the Durrat
al-Bahrain project, Jassem wanted to carefully review every technical aspect of
the contract to make sure there were no hidden costs or surprises down the
road.
“Mr. John, His Highness will see you now,”
said Marvin. He then opened the door and led John into Prince Jassem’s office.
Prince Jassem rose from his chair and walked toward them.
“Mr. Northon, it’s good to
see you,” he said in English as he shook hands with the journalist and invited
him to sit down.
“Good morning, Your
Highness,” replied John as they both sat on the sofa.
“How was your flight?”
“Very smooth but I almost
missed it,” responded Ronen in Arabic.
“Mashallah, Mashallah.
Hamed told me that you speak Arabic fluently. Where did you learn it?” asked
Jassem in Arabic.
“I took Arabic courses in
college, but I also visit Arab countries three or four times a year. I was in
Palestine two weeks ago,” said the journalist.
Well aware of John Northon’s
pro-Palestinian sentiments, Jassem felt comfortable expressing his opinion on the
Palestinian struggle.
“What is happening in
Palestine is a mark of shame on the foreheads of all Arabs. Palestinians are
the only courageous Arab people. The rest of us are cowards and traitors,”
commented Prince Jassem.
“Forgive me Your Highness but
what can the Arab world do when Israel is so strong and America supports it?”
replied the journalist.
“My friend,” said the Prince
as he shook his head, “Arabs can do a lot. America needs our oil, and we let
them have it. Americans want to sell their goods to us, and we open our markets
to them. They support Israel, and we just look the other way and trade with
them. If Arab leaders cared about Palestinians, would they behave this way?”
The journalist was nodding
his head in approval as he listened to Prince Jassem, but he did not offer an
immediate response to this question. He seemed preoccupied with his own
thoughts, and there was a short moment of silence.
It suddenly occurred to
Prince Jassem that he might be in trouble with his father again if these
comments were published. Then he remembered Professor Ubaid’s advice about
being patient and waiting for his turn. He felt anxious and regretted the
comments that he had just made. For a second, he thought of asking the
journalist to consider these comments off the record but he hesitated. If he
had asked, the journalist would think of him as just another coward Arab leader
who keeps his mouth shut. Then he decided to wait until the end of the
interview before engaging in any kind of damage control. It was time to change
the subject for now.
“Anyways,” continued Prince
Jassem, “you are here to talk about tourism in Bahrain, and I’m ready to answer
your questions.” Then he took a sip of his tea.
The journalist opened his
small notebook. From John’s questions, it was clear that he had done his
homework and had prepared a set of questions that the Prince found intriguing.
Most of the questions were similar to what Prince Jassem had heard from other
Western reporters: What are your long-term visions for tourism development? How
much money is the government of Bahrain planning to spend on tourism
development?
Then, after about thirty
minutes, Mr. Northon began to ask about more sensitive questions that surprised
the Prince. “Your Highness, it is clear that your government is planning to
spend a great deal of money on hotels and all kinds of other tourist
facilities. Yet, as you are well aware, over the past twelve months there have
been several disturbances in Manama, where some religious people have demonstrated
against bars and nightclubs that are popular among tourists. In some cases,
they have attacked tourists and set nightclubs on fire. Do you think the
majority of Bahrainis support your vision to make Bahrain a tourist and
entertainment center for wealthy Saudis, Kuwaitis or even Western tourists?”
Prince Jassem took a few
seconds to think about this question.
“Off the record, I think
there are some Bahrainis who think the tourists are corrupting our society.
They want to ban western music and alcoholic beverages. I don’t think they are
opposed to all the facilities that we are trying to build. I can understand
some of their concerns, and I think we should look very carefully at the
cultural dimensions of tourism.”
“Are you saying that you will
ban alcoholic beverages and night clubs?” asked John.
“I wouldn’t go that far, but
I’ll certainly take people’s sensitivities into consideration.”
“Can you be more specific?
What would you do about the nightclubs and bars that currently attract so many tourists?
As you know many Saudi men come to Bahrain on short trips to enjoy these
freedoms that are not available in Saudi Arabia.”
John Northon could tell that
Prince Jassem felt uncomfortable with this question.
“I don’t have any specific
plan in mind,” he replied. “Besides, these issues are really beyond my control.
These are matters of cultural policy and are decided by His Highness Sheikh
Hadi al-Kowsar,” added the Prince as he pointed to the picture of his father on
the wall.
John Northon looked at Jassem
for a few seconds. “Your Highness…you will be the ruler of Bahrain one day. May
I ask what will you do about these cultural policies then?”
Prince Jassem looked at him
with a smile. “I’ll invite you back then and explain my policies.”
The journalist was not going
to let go. “Will your cultural policies deviate from His Highness Sheikh Hadi
al-Kowsar?”
“Why don’t we stay focused on
tourism Mr. Northon,” responded the Prince with a forced smile.
“As you wish, Your Highness.”
“How long are you staying in
Bahrain?”
“Three more days, Your
Highness.”
“Would you like to join me
for a tour of one of our tourist project construction sites on Thursday? Have
you heard of the Dilmun Water Park project?”
“Yes, Your Highness. I know
that once completed it is going to be the largest water park in the Middle
East. I’d be honored to accompany you.”
“Good then, I’ll see you
Thursday, let’s say … half past five in the morning. I’ll send a driver to get
you from your hotel.”
“Yes that’s fine, but can I ask
why so early?”
“Two reasons: It will be too
hot if we go there in mid-day, and I love the desert in the morning. On our way
there I want to show you some beautiful desert scenery.”
“I look forward to it,” said
John Northon as they both stood up.
“Your Highness, may I ask for
a personal favor before I leave?”
“Yes, sure.”
“During my visit to
Palestine, I briefly interviewed a woman who died shortly after the interview
as a result of injuries that she suffered during an Israeli missile attack. I
know that her daughter and her son-in-law live in Bahrain. I’d like to meet
this woman for an interview, and I was wondering if your staff could help me
find her address,” said the journalist.
“Sure! Sure! I should say I
admire your sympathy for the Palestinians, and it would be a pleasure to assist
you. As you know, most of the media in the West supports Israel. You are doing
a great service to the Palestinian cause by presenting our side of this
struggle. What’s her name?”
“Thank you Your Highness.
This will be a great help to me.”
John Northon gave him the
names of the Palestinian woman and her husband. As soon as the journalist
stepped out of his office, Prince Jassem felt another burst of anxiety. He had
done it again – another show of pro-Palestinian sympathy. He decided that
tomorrow he would ask John Northon not to publish any of his remarks about the
Palestinians. Patience, self-control, patience, self-control. My turn will
come. Patience … he said to himself. Then he asked Marvin to come to his office.
He gave a note to Marvin. “Find out where this Palestinian family lives and
pass the information to John Northon immediately. Also, arrange for him to be
picked up from his hotel tomorrow morning at five-thirty.”
As usual, a transcript of
Prince Jassem’s conversation with the British Journalist was delivered to
Sheikh Hadi’s office in less than an hour.
Prince Jassem looked at his
schedule. He had to attend two more meetings that day – one with a
representative of a French hotel chain that was interested in opening a branch
in Bahrain and one with his own staff. Then he had to attend the regular
Wednesday afternoon cabinet meeting. He had just finished his first meeting
around half past noon when his personal cell phone rang. Marvin handled all of
his official phone calls and very few people besides his immediate family had
this number. So when he heard the ringtone he assumed that it was Princess
Sara, but it was an unknown number. He decided to ignore it and let it go to
his voicemail. After a few rings the call was terminated, but there was no
message. A minute later there was another call from the same number. This time
he decided to answer it.
“Is this His Highness Prince
Jassem?” asked a female voice. The Prince did not recognize the caller’s voice
and was hesitant to reply.
“Hello?” asked the woman
again.
“Yes. Who is this?”
“Your Highness, I’m a student
of Professor Ubaid.”
“Yes?” Replied Prince Jassem.
He was now very curious about this call. He never gave his cell number to
Professor Ubaid … and why wasn’t Ubaid himself contacting him.
“Your Highness, they took
Professor Ubaid,” said the woman with an anxious voice. “They came to his
office around an hour ago and arrested him.”
“Who arrested him?” asked
Jassem.
“There were three men, but
they were not police. They must have been from the Mukhaberat.[1]”
“Did he ask you to call me?
How did you get this phone number?”
“No, Your Highness. I was in
the building when these men arrived, but they did not give him a chance to talk
to anyone. He gave me this number three days ago and told me to contact you if
he was arrested or something happened to him,” said the woman who had not even
identified herself yet. He was still in doubt about the authenticity of this
call.
“Did he say why he wanted you
to contact me? Did he have a message for
me?”
“No, Your Highness. He just
told me to contact you at this number.”
“What is your name?” asked
the prince.
“I’m sorry! Please help him
if you can,” replied the caller and then hung up.
Jassem stood still for a few
seconds. He was worried about the Professor, but he had doubts about this
anonymous phone call, so he decided to call Ubaid’s number directly. He only
had a number for Ubaid’s office.
The phone rang several times,
but there was no answer. Instead of going to an answering machine, the call was
transferred to an operator in the Faculty of Social Studies who confirmed that
Professor Ubaid was not in his office but that he had been there earlier during
the day.
This did not mean that the
Professor was arrested or taken away,
thought Jassem. Maybe the Professor was in class or had left for the day.
For a moment, he thought of
calling his uncle, Sheikh Zayed, who was the Head of the Secret Police to ask
if this was true. Then he realized that it was not a good idea, because his
uncle might wonder about his relation to this Professor. Instead he decided to
reach the anonymous caller by dialing back the number.
The phone rang a few times
but no one answered. He dialed again after a minute. This time someone picked
up the phone after six rings.
“Hello?” said a male voice.
The Prince was quiet for a second.
“Hello?” asked the male voice
again.
“Hello. Who is this?” asked
Prince Jassem.
“Who are you?” the man
answered with an arrogant tone as if saying, you first.
“I’m sorry. I received a call
from this number about five minutes ago, and it was suddenly disconnected. Can
I speak to the lady who called me?”
“This is a public phone in
the dining hall of Bahrain University. There are about one hundred ladies in
here right now,” answered the man with a sarcastic tone. Prince Jassem could
tell that he was clearly annoyed by the conversation. The Prince apologized and
hung up. Now at least he knew that the call was made from inside the
university.
The Prince felt anxious. He
was worried about the Professor, and he was also worried for himself. Professor
Ubaid had come to his office for lunch twice in recent weeks, and the Tourism
Office staff was aware of these meetings.
But there is nothing wrong
with me having met with a well-respected university professor. If anyone asks,
I will tell them I needed his advice as a sociologist about the cultural impact
of some of our new projects, he said
to himself.
His thoughts were interrupted
by a knock at the door. It was Marvin.
“Your Highness, would you
like to have something for lunch before the staff meeting at one?”
“No. Not now,” he tried to
calm down and decide what he should do.
If the call was authentic,
the Professor was anticipating that he might be arrested. Did he expect
Jassem to intervene on his behalf or did he just want to warn the Prince to be
careful because they had met and spoken a few times, Jassem wondered.
If Professor Ubaid was indeed
under arrest, he had a moral obligation to intervene and help him. But how? How
would his father react if he found out about his connection to the Professor?
He would get very upset, especially if he found out about Professor’s political
views. What if Ubaid is forced to reveal the political issues that they had
talked about?
If Sheikh Hadi finds out
about these conversations, he might accuse me of betrayal, thought Prince Jassem.
These thoughts made him even
more anxious. He was walking back and forth in front of his desk trying to
think of what, if anything, he should do. Then he suddenly remembered that his
uncle, Sheikh Zayed, would be attending the cabinet meeting later that
afternoon. If there were any major security problems, he would brief the
cabinet.
Prince Jassem decided that if
his uncle did not mention anything about the arrest, he could always ask him
privately after the meeting. So the only logical thing to do for now was to
wait for the cabinet meeting, thought the Prince. This train of thought
helped him calm down. He felt hungry.
“Marvin, I’ve changed my
mind. I’ll have some food before the meeting.”
It was a few minutes before
three o’clock when Jassem and Nidal arrived in the al-Qudaibiya Palace. Usually
the Prince went to his father’s private office first and then walked with him
to the cabinet meeting, but an aid informed him that Sheikh Hadi was in another
meeting. Jassem walked directly to the conference room and Nidal went to an
adjacent room where assistants and confidants to the ministers would gather while
waiting for their bosses. A few cabinet ministers were already in the
conference room when Prince Jassem entered. He exchanged warm greetings with
the ministers, who were all his relatives either by blood or by marriage.
To the Prince’s disappointment,
Sheikh Zayed had not arrived yet. Nevertheless, casual conversations with the
ministers helped him stay calm despite his concern about Professor Ubaid. The
meeting was supposed to start at three but Sheikh Hadi arrived ten minutes
late. Prince Hamed and Sheikh Zayed followed him into the room. Prince Jassem
was surprised to see his younger brother. Hamed was never invited to the
cabinet meetings. The only time that he attended the meetings was last year
when he was appointed as the Head of the Bahrain Sports Authority.
After formally greeting his
father and kissing his hand, Jassem turned his attention to Hamed.
“I thought you went to South
Africa to watch the eclipse. What happened?” asked Jassem.
Prince Hamed seemed tense. He
did not greet his older brother with the usual excitement and happy smiles that
Jassem expected.
“I had to cut my trip short.
I arrived early this morning.”
“Is something wrong?” asked
Jassem.
Prince Hamed was quiet for a
couple of seconds, and Jassem could tell that he was avoiding eye contact with
him. Jassem held Hamed’s hand and gently pulled him to a corner away from the
others.
“Tell me, Hamed, what
happened?”
“Father ordered me to return
immediately,” answered Prince Hamed but did not offer any explanation.
“Has something happened in
the Sports Authority? Are you in trouble? Tell me.”
Hamed was hesitant to speak.
“Hamed what’s wrong?” asked
Jassem again. Now he felt more worried about Hamed than about Professor Ubaid.
Before Hamed had a chance to
respond, Sheikh Hadi approached his seat at the head of the long oval shaped
table and the others immediately stood next to their chairs waiting for him to
sit. Hamed and Jassem ended their unfinished conversation and approached the
conference table to take their seats next to their father.
It was only after they sat
and Sheikh Hadi began his usual opening remarks that another question crossed
Jassem’s mind. Why was Hamed in the meeting? If he was in some sort of trouble,
why was he there? Had he made such a big mess that it had to be discussed at
the cabinet level?
As the meeting continued and
several ministers spoke, Jassem was preoccupied with these questions and was
waiting to see if any issues involving Hamed would be raised during the
meeting. But the topics of discussion were same as usual. Besides, if Hamed’s
presence was related to an important issue, it would have been raised at the
start of the meeting.
Jassem could not think of any
other explanation. He also did not understand why Hamed was paying attention
and taking detailed notes. What did he need these notes for? Jassem
wondered. The only other unusual development was that almost forty five minutes
into the meeting Sheikh Hadi announced that because of his other engagements
that day, the meeting would be shorter than usual. He ended the meeting in just
less than sixty minutes minutes with no mention of any security related arrests
at Bahrain University and nothing involving Prince Hamed.
“Jassem, you stay,” said
Sheikh Hadi as the ministers paid their respects and left the conference room.
Jassem did not hear his father ask anyone else to stay and was expecting a
private conversation, but Hamed and Sheikh Zayed also remained. The King
signaled the servants and aids to leave as well.
“I have made an important
decision,” said Sheikh Hadi as he looked at Jassem. “I have decided to appoint
Hamed as Crown Prince.”
“What?” asked Jassem with a
low tone and a stunned look.
“I’m sorry son, but it is
better for Bahrain and for our family that Hamed becomes my heir apparent,”
responded the King with a kind but firm voice.
Jassem looked at his younger
brother for a second and then looked at his father again. He could feel the
pounding of his heartbeat and started breathing heavily.
“But why father? I apologized
for what happened with the Americans, didn’t I?” he asked with a pleading
voice.
“You apologized with your
tongue but not with your heart. Your views are too radical, and you will put
Bahrain at risk as King. ”
“But father I...” said Jassem
before Sheikh Hadi raised his hand to tell him to be quiet. Jassem stopped.
“Enough has been said
already,” responded the King calmly and then continued with a stronger voice.
“You should not have socialized with the likes of Professor Ubaid.”
As Jassem heard the
Professor’s name, he felt overwhelmed with anxiety. He wanted to speak and tell
his father that Ubaid was an honorable man, but his father raised his hand
again and signaled him to be quiet.
“My decision is final, and I
want you to accept it. I also want you to know that Hamed was very reluctant to
accept this title and knew nothing about my decision until he arrived from
South Africa this morning. I don’t want this change to cause bad blood between
you and your brother.”
Jassem was looking down. He
was visibly shaking and his eyes were tearing up as he heard these words. He
was clearly still in shock.
“Jassem, look at me,”
commanded the King.
Jassem raised his head. “I know it is difficult for you, but I have
made my decision and it is final. I want you to shake your brother’s hand and
promise to support him.”
Jassem quietly looked down
then he suddenly stood up, walked away from the table and faced the wall.
“Jassem!” shouted the King.
Jassem turned around and
returned to his seat. “Yes father.”
His rage had given way to
despair, and he seemed resigned to his new fate. Then he looked at his brother
who was sitting to the left of Sheikh Hadi. “Congratulations! I wish you
success,” he said in a monotone voice.
“Brother,” pleaded Hamed. “As
father said, I had nothing to do with this and knew nothing of his decision
until a few hours ago. I swear that I have never envied you nor have I wished
to take your position. I tried to change father’s mind when he told me but, as
he said, he had already made up his mind and I had no other choice.”
Jassem did not say anything.
He did not feel anger toward his brother and believed what he said. He blamed
his father for this. He extended his right hand toward Hamed. Hamed reached out
and shook his hand with a solemn look. Since they were sitting to the left and
right of Sheikh Hadi, their hands met in front of their father. Sheikh Hadi
reached out and put his hands under and above their handshake. He looked first
at Jassem and then at Hamed.
“You should honor and
preserve this bond forever. You are both dear to me, and I never want to see
any animosity between you. Understood?” said the King as he firmly squeezed
their handshake.
“Yes father,” said Hamed.
“Yes,” said Jassem.
For as long as he remembered,
there was never any tension between him and Hamed. Perhaps it was because Hamed
was four years younger than him, and they were never competitive. Hamed always
looked up to him, but Jassem was never happy with the flamboyant and hedonistic
character of his younger brother. As he was listening to Hamed, he was thinking
how unfit he would be as King.
The Americans will
definitely be pleased with him. He will become their yes man in Bahrain just
like father, Jassem thought to
himself.
“Does mother know about
this?” asked Jassem.
“Yes,” said Sheikh Hadi.
“How did she react?” asked
Jassem.
“She is not happy, but she
understands that it is necessary.”
Jassem wanted to ask about
Professor Ubaid but decided not to.
He looked at his father: “Do
you want me to continue in the Tourism Department?”
Sheikh Hadi looked at him for
a few seconds without saying anything. Then he looked at his brother, Sheikh
Zayed, who was silently observing their conversation. He turned to Jassem
again.
“I’m happy with the way you
have managed the Tourism Board, but I think it’s best if you leave the country
for a few months.”
“What?” asked Jassem in
disbelief.
“Father please! There is no
need for this,” said Hamed who was also surprised. Jassem stood up.
“I won’t leave Bahrain,” said
Jassem with an angry voice. “You can’t force me to go.”
Rather than ordering Jassem
to sit down, the King stood up this time. He was clearly enraged.
“How dare you raise your
voice to me?” he shouted. Jassem was overwhelmed with anger but did not dare to
respond. He was breathing heavily. Hamed and Sheikh Zayed both stood up.
“Brother…” said Sheikh Zayed.
Then he walked around the table and stood between Sheikh Hadi and Jassem. He
put his hand on Jassem’s shoulder and looked at him. “Apologize to your father
and sit down.”
Jassem was looking at the
table. He was well aware of his father’s power and what he could do. A few
years ago, one of his uncles, a younger brother of Sheikh Hadi, stepped out of
line and the King put him under house arrest for a year. He then was forced to
leave the country and settle in London. Jassem’s facial expression changed from
rage to despair as he sat down.
“Please forgive me,” he said
without looking at his father. Sheikh Hadi sat down and took a sip of water.
Sheikh Zayed sat next to Jassem this time.
“Father please, don’t make
him leave the country,” said Hamed in a very calm and pleading voice.
Sheikh Hadi did not react to
Hamed’s plea. He was still trying to calm down.
“You and Sara will be staying
at the family mansion in Salalah for a few months,” he said while looking at
Jassem. Jassem’s face was void of any emotions now. His breathing was calm. He
did not react to this sentence, and Sheikh Hadi did not expect any response from
him either. It was an order. The arrangements had already been made.
“Father please! You don’t
have to do this,” said Hamed again with a very soft and quiet voice.
“Yes, he has to do it,” said
Jassem unexpectedly. He said it slowly and with a soft voice. Then, he repeated
himself in a loud and angry voice while staring at Hamed: “He has to do it!”
They were all looking at him
with disbelief.
“Quiet,” shouted Sheikh Hadi.
“He has to do it to please
the Americans. It is not his decision. He does what they…” Before he had a chance to finish his sentence
Sheikh Hadi raised his hand and slapped him in the face as hard as he could.
“How dare you? You stupid mule.” He shouted as he stood up, towering over Jassem.
He raised his hand to strike
Jassem again, but Sheikh Zayed leaned forward and positioned his right hand
above Jassem’s head.
“Brother please!” he pleaded.
Sheikh Hadi held his hand in
the air but did not strike Jassem again. He was trying hard to control his
anger.
Hamed stood up. “Father!”
Jassem did not move. He did
not even look at his father. Sheikh Zayed rose quickly and stood between Jassem
and Sheikh Hadi. He looked at Jassem: “Shame on you.”
Then he looked at his brother
and put his hand on his shoulder. “Brother, please forgive him. He misspoke.”
“He spoke his true beliefs,”
said the King and walked away from the table.
The King turned to the wall
behind him, still breathing heavily. They were all quiet for a few seconds.
Hamed was staring at his brother and noticed the tear drops on his face, but he
was not crying.
“Zayed,” said Sheikh Hadi as
he turned toward his brother. Then he pointed his finger toward Jassem without
looking at him. “Take him to his palace and make sure he stays there until
tomorrow. Arrange for a flight to Salalah tomorrow morning. He and Sara will
stay there until further notice. They will have no phone, email or physical
contact with anyone until they leave Bahrain.”
“Yes, brother,” responded
Sheikh Zayed.
Sheikh Hadi walked out of the
room without saying anything else.
Sheikh Zayed and Hamed were looking at Jassem in disbelief.
***
Sheikh Zayed had gained the
trust of his brother by always carrying out his orders to the fullest without
any buts or ifs. This time was no exception. After taking Jassem to his palace
that evening, he assigned three guards to make sure he did not leave. At ten
o’clock next morning, he personally escorted the reluctant Prince and his
crying wife to the airport. Then he flew with them in one of the royal family’s
private jets to Salalah. Princess Sara’s mother, who was a distant cousin of
Sheikh Hadi, and Nidal, also flew with them.
With Sheikh Hadi’s approval,
Hamed also flew with his brother’s family. He and Sheikha Lubna had stayed with
Jassem and Sara until late the previous evening. It was Sheikha Lubna’s idea
that Hamed must go to Salalah with Jassem. She wanted to make sure what
happened did not cause bad blood between her sons. Hamed was supposed to fly
back with Sheikh Zayed the same day. It was important that he appeared with his
father in public as soon as possible. His selection as Crown Prince had been
formally announced to the nation earlier that morning.
Jassem had many fond memories
of his childhood visits to Salalah. In the 1980s, the royal family vacationed
in Salalah at least twice a year. Over time, visits became less frequent as
family members spent more time in Europe and the United States. Salalah is a
green and temperate coastal region in southern Oman. It is a valley surrounded
by Dhofar mountain ranges on three sides as well as the sea. Because of its
temperate climate, which rarely rises above thirty degrees Celsius in the
summer, it is a popular vacation destination for Arabs from the nearby
countries. Some wealthy Arab families from the Gulf countries own vacation
homes in Salalah. Sheikh Hadi’s father purchased a small mansion there in 1974,
which was located on a large piece of land. Later, Sheikh Hadi renovated and
expanded the property.
The first few days after
their arrival were very difficult for Jassem and Sara. Jassem’s mood oscillated
between anger and despair. Sara cried in private but, when Jassem was around,
she tried to cheer him up and lift his spirits with little success. The only
thing that made it a little easier for both of them was the understanding that
this was a temporary exile and that they would be allowed to return to Bahrain
after a few months. His mother and uncle had assured him of this the night
before their flight to Salalah. Although they could not say how long this
arrangement would last, Sheikha Lubna tried to assure him and Sara that it
would be no more than two or three months.
“When you will be allowed to
return and what you will be doing from now on is up to your father,” Sheikha
Lubna reminded him. “If you don’t do anything stupid while in Salalah, he won’t
keep you away for long,” she added.
This hopeful promise had been
followed by a strong warning from his uncle. “Jassem, you know that I love you
like my own son. Be very careful about what you say or do from now on. This is
a very serious situation. If you say anything against your father or his
policies to anyone, and I mean anyone, or if you contact someone who is opposed
to him, like that crazy university teacher, Ubaid, he will seriously punish
you. And don’t assume that myself or your mother or Hamed can do anything to
help you then.” Jassem had listened to his mother and uncle quietly without any
reaction.
Most nights, Jassem slept little. He would
wake up around one or two and stare at the ceiling in the dark for a while.
Then he would quietly walk into the living room and scan the satellite TV
channels. Sometimes he would go to the garden and walk around for an hour or so
until he felt sleepy again.
Nidal came to the mansion
every morning around eleven. He was staying in a furnished apartment that was
only a few minutes walking distance from the mansion. Jassem did not leave the
house for three days when he first arrived. Gradually, Nidal and Sara were able
to convince him to leave the mansion. Some evenings, he went for a drive with
Sara, her mother and Mohammad. Sometimes he went out with Nidal in the
evenings. Jassem was confident that his friendship with Nidal would last for
life, but he was not sure for how long his father would pay Nidal’s salary to
serve as his personal confidant in light of what had occurred. For now, he was
glad that Nidal was there with him.
One evening during the second
week of their stay in Salalah, Jassem woke up around three o’clock in the morning.
After watching a news program on Al-Jazeera for about an hour, he went to the
garden for a walk. As usual, he was thinking about Professor Ubaid, the issues
that they talked about, the Palestinians, his father and his own future. These
thoughts were stressful, but he could not block them from his mind.
After walking for a while, he
sat on a bench and stared at the stars in the dark clear sky. His peaceful
stargazing was suddenly interrupted by the sound of the call to prayer “Allah-o
Akbar, Allah-o Akbar…” from a nearby mosque. He always woke up on time for
the Morning Prayer but never went to the mosque at dawn for prayer as some
pious Muslims do. Now, suddenly he felt an urge to pray in the mosque. Without
hesitation, he went inside to change his clothes and then quickly and quietly
walked toward the main gate.
“Good morning, Your
Highness,” said the young Yemeni policeman who was standing guard outside the
gate. He was clearly surprised to see the Prince so early.
“Good morning. I’m going to
the mosque for prayer,” said Jassem as he quickly walked in the direction of
the small local mosque that was about a kilometer from the mansion. He saw
other people approaching the mosque grounds. He could tell that most of them
were migrant workers from Bangladesh or Pakistan, but he also saw three or four
men who had Arab faces and wore white garments like him.
When the group prayer began,
there were about 40 men in the mosque. It was unusual for Prince Jassem to
stand next to ordinary people, particularly low-skilled Asian workers. Back in
Bahrain, whenever he joined the group prayer at lunchtime or in the evening, it
was in the company of high-ranking officials and prominent businessmen.
However, that day he felt calm and peaceful for the first time since the
altercation with his father. The prayer lasted for about ten minutes and, as he
walked out of the mosque, the dark color of sky was giving way to blue in the
east.
He enjoyed the fresh sea
breeze on his face as he slowly walked toward the mansion. The streets were
still empty and quiet during that early hour. After a few minutes, he reached
the long wall of the family mansion, which extended half a kilometer in both
directions from the main gate. As he looked at the barely visible hills and mountains
in the dark blue sky, he felt an urge to walk towards them instead of entering
the gate. So without hesitation he made his way up the street, exchanging
greetings with the policeman again. “I’m going for a walk,” he informed the
policeman.
After about 30 minutes, he
reached the edge of the city where the urban houses gradually gave way to open
land and farms. Jassem walked uphill for another 10 minutes then stopped and
turned around. He could see the entire city
and the sea for several kilometers. The sun was slowly rising above the
horizon. Jassem found a rock to sit on. I should do this every morning for
as long as I’m here, he said to himself.
He enjoyed the view for a
while before heading back. By the time he reached the mansion, it was a little
past seven. Sara was still in bed. He told her about his walk over breakfast.
“Let’s go together tomorrow.
Mother will take care of Mohammad,” suggested Sara when she noticed how excited
Jassem was. She was no fan of early morning walks or hill climbing, but she was
willing to do anything to lift Jassem’s spirit. Jassem was not interested in
taking her along with him, but he agreed anyway.
The next morning Jassem was
eager to leave around five when it was still dark. He waited for Sara to get
ready. Around a quarter past five, just as they were about to leave the
building, Mohammad woke up and Princess Sara had to return to the bedroom to
breast feed him. By the time they finally walked out of the mansion, it was
quarter to six. They followed the same path that Jassem had taken the day
before. The experience was uncomfortable for Sara who did not want to be there
to begin with. Jassem realized that what had made this walk so enjoyable the
morning before was that he was alone – no conversations, no need to think or
talk about issues that he was not interested in.
By the time they reached the
rock that Jassem had sat on the day before, the sun was already rising over the
sea. After about fifteen minutes, Jassem turned around and looked at the
mountains. He pointed to a lone tree about one or two kilometers up the hill. “Ya
habibati, let’s go to that tree. The view is even nicer there,” he said.
Princess Sara refused. “I
think this is enough for me for today.”
That was exactly what Jassem
was hoping to hear. “Then we will definitely get there tomorrow, inshallah.
We just need to leave the mansion no later than five.”
I will definitely come up
with a nice excuse not to do this again tomorrow, thought Princess Sara as she smiled at Jassem and
held his hand to get up. As they walked back toward the mansion, she was
thinking about various possible excuses. As soon as they got back, Princess
Sara went to her mother’s room to check on Mohammad. He was sound sleep in his
grandmother’s arms.
“How was he?” she asked.
“He woke up half an hour ago.
I changed his diaper and gave him a little milk. Then he went back to sleep,”
replied Sara’s mother.
“Mother, I’m going to tell
Jassem that Mohammad was restless and cried a lot while we were gone. Make sure
to back me up.”
“But why, habibi?
Don’t you like to go with him?”
“Not at five in the morning.”
When she told Jassem that
because of Mohammad, she wouldn’t be able to join him the next morning, Jassem
was delighted but hid his excitement.
“That is too bad. Eh … then
I’ll go alone in the morning, but we can all drive up there in the late
afternoon and enjoy the scenery as the sun sets.”
“Yes, that would be lovely,”
replied Sara. Her mother agreed too.