Excerpt from Book: Emma Visits a Saudi Prison

BY KAVANWAL MD




THE STORY SO FAR…

Emma traveled to the Middle East to accept a nursing contract to work in the King Faisal Specialist Hospital and Research Center in Riyadh Saudi Arabia. Still suffering from culture shock, her roommate, Rose is arrested and sits in the women’s prison waiting punishment for her crimes. Afraid for her welfare, Emma works with the Arabic hospital administrators, head of security, embassy officials and her supervisor to free her roommate from a horrifying fate. After much negotiation, and reeling from the attitudes of some of the Arab men towards Western females, Emma manages to negotiate permission to visit Rose in her prison cell. Although accompanied by representatives for Rose, they are not permitted to enter the prison past a certain point, thus leaving Emma alone to walk the dark corridors with a prison guard leading the way.


Excerpt From the Book:

I zipped the long, black garment, called an abaya, that Rose left hanging in the hall closet and was careful to put a scarf in my purse. My hands trembled. Was I nervous about the prison or about being with Anthony?

Before stepping outside, I walked into the bathroom and checked my makeup. I hoped I wasn't wearing too much. I didn't want to be arrested for that.

I opened the exterior door and was met with a wall of heat. A thermometer hanging in the shade showed it was forty degrees Celsius. And it was only April…I dreaded the summer months.

I made my way to the hospital lobby and spotted Anthony wearing tight-fitting jeans and a yellow shirt tucked inside his pants. His rotund belly hung over the top of the belt. Not a flattering picture.

"Ah, Emma. Abdul and his wife are waiting. This way."

A man sitting in the driver's seat smiled as we got into the car. "Hello. I’m Abdul. This is my wife, Heiffa." He pointed to a woman in the backseat.

I turned to greet her, but the woman sat motionless, staring out the window. She was veiled from head to toe and wore black gloves.

"Ah, my wife. She no speak English. She did not want to come, but I insist, or you cannot see your friend."

"If it was too much Abdul—"

"No,Miss Emma, no. This my duty, and Heiffa knows better. She get over it, you’ll see."

Anthony looked at me and shrugged.

The ride took us through the congested downtown section. Cars changed lanes haphazardly and stopped suddenly at red lights. The buildings were squeezed into city blocks, and throngs of people walked the paved streets, some disappearing into stores. As we drove from the city, spaces widened, and only a trace of civilization lined the paved highway. I looked out the front window, eyeing a single sand-colored building in the distance.

"There! That is prison where is your friend. Now listen to me. You pretend you are this man’s wife, yes? You cover hair and do not talk. I do all talking. They may not let you in, but if they are in good mood, perhaps they will. If they do not, I will press them so I can see her. You understand?"

"Yes," I mumbled.

We turned off the paved highway onto a dusty road. A cloud of brown haze followed the van as we pulled up to a large wrought-iron gate leading to the main entrance. Abdul spoke in Arabic over an intercom, and the gates opened. We drove to the building and stopped, leaving the van, and approached the building. Heiffa lagged behind, and Abdul reprimanded her, making her quicken her step.

We walked into an overwhelming stench of stale urine and rotting meat. My nostrils began to burn, making my eyes water.

"Emma, are you sure you want to go through with this?" Anthony asked.

"Yes, I’m sure," I said, straightening my shoulders.

Abdul spoke with one of the guards, flailing his arms in several directions. His facial expressions were almost comical as he seemed to go through a ritualistic display, bargaining for favors. He turned and said, “Okay. Listen. You have ten minutes only. When matawa ask you leave, you go. Understand?"

"Yes."

"You follow that man."

"I'm going by myself?"

"Yes. We are not allowed."

"What about your wife?’

Abdul laughed. "You not get her to do anything. Go, or you miss your chance."

I pulled a corner of the scarf over my nose and followed the armed security guard through a locked steel door and into a long corridor. The unpleasant odors worsened the deeper we trudged into the building. I gagged a couple of times, but reminded myself I was there for Rose—I had to be strong.

Naked light bulbs hung on long, black cords from the tall ceilings, illuminating the grimy hallway in a dim light. Although I did my best not to brush up against the walls, dust and spider webs left their gray marks on my dark abaya. I was cautious on the hard-packed sand, straining to see and to avoid the potholes in the well-worn path. As we ventured further into the darkness, rats scurried past, sometimes running across my feet. I held my breath to stop from screaming. I was here for Rose, and I had to know she was all right. My determination drove me forward through the sickening, inhumane conditions.

We passed several empty cells on either side of the corridor. Each of them had a shallow pit in the center for urination and defecation. Dead rats lay beside rancid human waste—all of which was rotting. In the distance, I heard whimpering and what sounded like the cry of a small child.

We came to the end of the hall and faced a large wooden door. The guard pushed his rifle to one side so he could reach a set of keys attached to his belt. He yelled something in Arabic to another man behind the door. He unlocked and opened the door, gesturing me to walk through. I hesitated. If I went through, would they let me out? I had to chance it.

I smiled at the guard as I passed and thanked him. He nodded his head, looking down at the floor.

A second guard greeted me with a crooked smile, exposing a missing front tooth. As the guard slammed the door, dust fell from the tin ceiling. I readjusted my scarf to shield myself from the falling dirt.

The stench was worse in these corridors, and my nostrils, already burning from the putrid smells, felt like flames reaching deep into my skull. I could taste the repugnant odors in my mouth and gagged. I fought the temptation to turn and run.

I wanted air. There were no windows, just a six-inch space between the roof and the walls for ventilation. I couldn't breathe and, choking, concentrated hard to stop from retching. How could Rose survive this?

We passed a cell where Filipino women huddled on the floor. When they saw me, they bounded to their feet, pressing against and reaching through the bars. They were dirty, skinny, and pathetic.

I jumped backward, escaping their desperate attempts to grab onto me. The guard pulled a long stick from inside his jacket and shouted at them, hitting the stick against the bars. The women screeched and shrank back, then cried out in the darkness. My knees were about to give out when the guard called out, “Come!"

I said a silent prayer for them, trying to block out their haunting, anguished pleas. Their cries echoed through me, their despair etched on my soul, numbing me. I felt like a traitor as I trudged toward Rose.

The guard stopped and pointed. "There! She there. Ten minutes, you understand?"

I nodded and he sauntered away. I scanned the cell, the sea of women crammed together, looking for Rose. But they all looked the same. "Oh my goodness, a baby! What's a baby doing in there?" I gasped.

A woman stirred, then stood up.

"Emma? Emma is that you?"

"Rose?"

Rose clutched her dusty clothes as she staggered forward. Her long, black hair was tangled and matted, her dirty face streaked with tears. The other women in the cell crowded Rose, pushing her into the iron bars.

"Get back," she shrieked. Rose shoved and they backed up, disappearing into their pitiful places deep inside the cell.

"I only have a few minutes, Rose."

"Emma,get me out of here."

"We're doing our best, really we are."

"Please don’t leave me here. Please, Emma, please!"

I swallowed hard and fought to suppress tears.

"Look what these bastards do. Look at the women in here."

I looked around. As my eyes adjusted to the light, I saw several small children. "Why are there children in prison?"

"They belong to the Filipinos. The Arabs don’t care about them. Their mothers are charged with prostitution and are going to be killed on Friday."

"Killed?"

"Yeah—stoned to death."

"Stoned! The children too?"

"I don’t know. I just know that every one of them was raped. Even the little children."

"Not the children!"

"They are sick people. I hate the Arabs. They pretend to be so pious, hiding behind their Koran, using it as an excuse to abuse people. I want them all dead," she spat.

"Rose, you haven’t been raped, have you?"

"No way. I won’t let these lousy pigs touch me. I fight and scream. Those women don’t fight. They've been taught to be submissive. None of the guards have been able to rape me, and they won’t as long as I have the strength to fight them off."

"Oh, Rose. I wish there were something I could do."

"Just get me out.Emma! Please."

"We’re working real hard. Trust me, we are."

“Okay. Time go," the guard said.

"I have to go, Rose."

"Emma, get me out of here. Help me!"

Her pleas resonated down the halls, unceasing, lingering, chasing me until I burst through the front doors and straight into Anthony’s arms.

"Emma, are you all right?"

I couldn’t speak. The lump in my throat stopped sound from escaping. I took several deep breaths, fighting back tears.

"Hurry, hurry," Abdul said.

He rushed us to the car. Anthony opened my door, then started to climb in the seat beside me.

"You no sit in back with women!"

Anthony hesitated then climbed into the front seat. "It was that bad?"

"It was much worse than I imagined," I choked on my words. "I’m sorry. I can’t keep from crying."

Anthony offered me a tissue. "It’s okay. Let it out."

"Women! Always hysterical. That is why I do not like to take them anywhere."

"Abdul, Emma is not hysterical. She hasn’t experienced your prisons before, and she's in shock."

I straightened. "I'm all right. I just feel sorry for those women. They're being mistreated and abused. Did you know there are children in that prison?"

"Children?" Anthony looked shocked.

"Yes, that is true," Abdul said.

"Why children?"

"They are offspring of prostitutes. They no good."

"No good? They are innocent children."

"They not innocent as you say. They born with the sin of their mothers."

"Nonsense, they're defenseless children!" I stiffened.

"No! They products of devil’s work. They are—"

"That’s enough! Let’s not get into a debate, right Emma? Abdul?"

I ignored him. "You think those women are prostitutes?"

"Of course! It is different for the nurses at the hospital. They are used to being with men socially. It accepted in your culture. Here, it is not. They Muslim woman and know better. Men and women are forbidden to socialize like Westerners."

Anthony turned around and gestured for me to be quiet. Heiffa stared out the window, ignoring us.

"Rose said the women will be stoned on Friday. If they die, what will happen to the children?"

Anthony gave me another look.

"They won’t be stoned, if that what you mean. Sometimes, if children are old enough, they may be useful. The other ones be taken to the desert."

"The desert? To be let free?"

"They taken there and whatever happens, poof! In Allah's hands."

"But they could die!"

"Only if it Allah’s Will."

"They do die, Emma. They're taken there to die," Anthony whispered.

A cold chill ran through me. They couldn't be that cruel and heartless, could they? I didn't want to know. I willed myself to stop thinking, to stop asking questions, and stared out the window. Follow Emma in her adventures in Saudi Arabia. Learn what life is like behind the palace walls of a royal family. Discover some of the cultural aspects of this society, and as you read, learn about:

-incarceration and punishment of women for menial crimes -attitude of some Saudis towards women.

-ancient healing rituals

-incest

-distribution of wealth

-slavery/servants

-hierarchal society

-behaviors and lifestyles of the Westerners within Saudi

-no tourism or limited tourism

-the “Saudi-ization” plan

Yes, and even Saudi Dating.