Married to the Sheikh (2 page)

Sarah had become very close to Fatima over the last few months. Her new mother-in-law acted more like a mother towards her than her own had ever done. Sarah had been mainly raised by a series of nannies and au-pairs, while her mother pursued a relentless round of dinners, parties, and social events. Then, as soon as Sarah was old enough, her parents packed her off to boarding school. On more than one occasion, her mother had made it clear that Sarah was an ‘accident.’ After Sarah was born, her mother made her father have an operation to ensure that no more ‘accidents’ took place. Sarah’s father, an overworked banker, had happily agreed.

“One day, your family will come here. I am sure of it,” Akbar reassured her.

“If it’s not in
Hello
magazine, my mother’s not interested.”

“What is this magazine called
Hello
?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Not for the first time, Sarah was reminded of the cultural divide that lay between them even though she knew perfect Arabic and had already spent several years living in Yazan. “It’s good that so many of your guests have come,” she said to move the conversation away from her own side of things.

“It is. These people realise that I want peace among the Bedouin tribes. However, a lot of the warlords haven’t come.”

“Why? Why would they refuse to attend our wedding?”

“They worry that I’m like my older brother, Sheikh Omar. He was a great man, but he ruled by the sword. I’ve only ruled the Al-Zafirs for a short time and people have long memories. Now, we should pray for peace and listen to the imam.” He gestured towards the man in front of him and bowed his head.

When Sarah first saw the imam, the religious man conducting their wedding ceremony, she was astonished to see a young man in his early twenties with a light covering of facial hair that could hardly be called a beard. She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting, but if a wizened old man with beady eyes and a wild mane of hair had appeared, she wouldn’t have been surprised. She guessed that cultural stereotypes ran deep no matter how much she tried to avoid them.

Like Akbar, she bowed her head and tried to focus on what the young man was saying. Various prayers were recited, by the imam as well as by everyone else, and long passages were read out in such a melodious way that she soon found her mind drifting off again. In particular, she found herself thinking about how Akbar had promised her a thousand nights of seduction. They were already part of the way through and Sarah was looking forward to being able to go to his tent openly instead of sneaking off when no one was looking. She couldn’t wait for the chance to spend an entire night with him, instead of creeping in and out of his tent like some naughty school girl.

She was just thinking about what she was going to do with him that night, when suddenly, everybody stood and started shrieking and shouting. Hundreds of people began yelling and many of the men started firing guns.

Sarah lifted herself to her feet, though she felt the weight of her clothes dragging her back down. She grabbed hold of Akbar’s arm. “What’s happening? What’s the matter?”

“The bride is scared,” someone called out.

“Of course she is scared. Sheikh Akbar is a mighty warrior and he will slay her tonight,” another voice shouted in the darkness behind her.

“His dagger will pierce her many times until she begs for mercy,” an older man replied.

“What’s going on?” Sarah asked again. She could feel the coins jingling across her face. She looked around. A large group of men that she didn’t recognise as being from the sheikh’s tribe were coming towards them. Somewhere nearby, several babies started crying.

 “I’m sorry. They are just making coarse jokes,” the sheikh reassured her. “It’s the custom at weddings for people to laugh about the wedding night.”

Several more guns went off. “But why are they shooting?” she asked.

“They’re celebrating! You’re now my wife. Aren’t you happy?”

“That was the most wonderful night of my life,” Sarah said and she rolled back on top of Akbar. “Every night you come up with new ways to seduce me. What happens when the thousand nights of seduction are over?”

“They’ll never be over,” Sheikh Akbar replied. “When the first thousand nights finish, the next thousand will begin, forever into eternity.” He stroked her feet, tracing the pattern of the faded henna on them. They had been married for two weeks and the henna markings were slowly disappearing.

“I wish I could stay here forever with you,” Sarah said, leaning over and caressing the taut muscles across his shoulders.

“But you can and you will.”

“No, I mean here, in this tent.”

“You don’t like the tent I gave you?” Akbar asked. “What’s wrong with it? Tell me and I’ll have it changed.”

“It’s not that. My tent is very beautiful. Thank you.”

As a wedding present, the sheikh had given Sarah a large tent which was lavishly adorned with Oriental carpets and silk hangings. After the honeymoon period was over, she was expected to spend much of the day there with other women, while the sheikh consulted with his men in his own tent.

“I love the tent,” Sarah continued. “It’s just that I have to get back to the hospital. I was only able to apply for two weeks’ leave from work and the last day was yesterday.” She got up and started washing herself from a large basin of water. The water felt cool against her hot skin. The sun was already coming up and she could feel that it was going to be another scorching day.

Akbar came up behind her and began brushing her hair. “You should stay here with me.”

Sarah turned around and kissed him. “I hate leaving, but I have to set off for the hospital before it gets too late.” She gave him another lingering kiss and then began to get herself ready for work.

Thirty minutes later, she was driving across the desert on the way to the capital. After she’d become engaged to sheikh, she’d traded in her old saloon car for a Jeep that could manage the off-road conditions of the desert. As she drove along, she remembered how alien it had all been when she first arrived, but now she could see how the desert was not a uniform empty landscape; there were small discernable features that helped her to navigate. For example, some areas were rockier than others, and small bushes and plants grew in some places and not in others.

In contrast, the city now seemed strange, and she found the noise and chaos unbearable, especially afterthe heavenly tranquillity of the sheikh’s tent where she’d spent the last two weeks. However, it was not nearly as shocking as what she saw when she arrived at work.

When she reached her consulting room, she saw that her name was no longer on the door and all her things were missing.

“What’s going on? Where’s my stuff?” she asked the middle-aged female doctor who sat behind the desk—her desk.

“I’m sorry, can I help you? I’m Dr. Wilson and you are?” the woman asked, not bothering to stand.

“I’m Dr. Sarah Greenwich and this is my office.”

“No, this is my office. I was given it last week when I arrived from Saudi.”

“But where’s all my stuff? My notes? My things?” Sarah asked.

“I have no idea. The office was empty when I arrived. Now, if you don’t mind, I have a patient waiting outside.” The doctor called out to the young local woman who was sitting on a plastic chair outside the door.

Sarah walked out of the room and went to the main desk where the receptionist sat. Chatting to the receptionist was a pretty nurse with jet black hair tied up neatly in a bun. When she saw Sarah, she stopped chatting to her friend. “Dr. Greenwich! What a surprise. How are you?” she asked.

“What is going on? Why is there another doctor sitting in my office?”

“We weren’t expecting you back. We thought you were… didn’t you marry…”

“Yes, I got married and now I’m back. Where are all my things?”

“I don’t know. You best ask Mrs. Brown,” the nurse replied, referring to the head administrator at the hospital. “I have to go now. Sorry. Great to see you again!” the nurse called out before scurrying off through a set of double doors and down a long white corridor.

Sarah went up to the top floor in search of Mrs. Brown.

Mrs. Brown was an older, British woman who hadn’t liked Sarah ever since the kidnapping incident, not because she disapproved of Sarah’s feelings for the sheikh, or because Sarah had done anything wrong at the hospital. Sarah’s unannounced absence when the sheikh had taken her had upset the administrator’s schedule at the hospital. Therefore, it was with some anxiety that Sarah knocked on her office door.

“Come in!” Mrs. Brown called out in a brisk, business-like voice, which sounded more like a schoolmistress than a doctor. “Oh, it’s you,” she remarked when Sarah put her head round the door. “Well, don’t just stand there; come in and shut the door, but make it quick as I have a meeting in ten minutes.”

Sarah entered the office that was noticeably clear of any personal objects, unlike her own that was full of cards and small gifts that patients had given her. At least, it had been full of these things until someone had cleared them out.

“I’ve come to ask why another doctor is sitting in my office.”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Mrs. Brown said, crossing her arms in front of her scrawny chest.

Sarah stared back blankly, wondering what was so obvious that she’d missed it.

“Dr. Greenwich, or whatever your name is now, you did get married, didn’t you?”

“Yes, two weeks ago. I applied for leave and now my leave is up. I’ve come back to work.”

“It’s not possible for you to start work. The hospital can’t employ a married woman without the consent of her husband.”

“Yes, I know. One of the other doctors told me. My husband is fine about it.” Akbar hadn’t been that pleased, but then she wasn’t exactly thrilled either to end their honeymoon. “He let me come in today, didn’t he?” she added.

“Do you have his written consent?” Mrs. Brown asked.

“Written consent? No, I don’t.” She didn’t know it had to be in writing. Sometimes the rules and regulations in a foreign country could be very frustrating.

“Then you can’t come back to work. Your personal possessions, and may I say there were quite a lot of them, are with the head nurse. You can collect them on your way out.”

“But wait. I can easily get his consent in writing. I’ll go back now and get him to write a letter. I’m sure he won’t mind.”

“I very much doubt it, Dr. Greenwich. I would be most surprised if he gave it, which is why I went ahead and hired a replacement. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a meeting to go to.” Mrs. Brown stood and made her way to the door.

“A replacement? I can’t believe you’ve hired someone else!” Sarah stood in front of the administrator, blocking the exit.

“And I can’t believe you married a local warlord. However, you did, and I sincerely hope that you don’t live to regret it. Now, I have a hospital to run, so could you please stand out of my way and let me leave.”

Sarah was so angry with the old witch that she wanted to push her through the door. However, she contained herself and let the woman pass. She would go back to the encampment and get the required letter from Akbar and wave it in Mrs. Brown’s face before the day was out. As she left the hospital, Sarah stopped at the head nurse’s office and told her to hold on to her things as she would be back later.

“I can’t possibly write such a letter!” the sheikh said later that morning after Sarah had made the long, hot drive back to his Bedouin encampment.

“I have to have your consent in writing. You have to write a letter in Arabic saying that you are willing for me to work at the Women’s Hospital.” Sarah had checked with a few other married doctors before she left the hospital and they all confirmed what Mrs. Brown had said.

“Why would I write a letter saying that?”

“So I can carry on working.” Sarah wondered whether Akbar was being dim-witted on purpose to tease her.

“But you can work here. There’s so much to be done. There are clothes to wash, food to prepare, many things.”

“Akbar, I’m a doctor, not a housewife.”

“But one day, and I’m sure it’ll be very soon, there’ll be children to take care of.”

 Before they were married, Akbar used contraceptive measures, but he stopped as soon as they were married. However, Sarah was now taking the contraceptive pill, though she hadn’t mentioned it to Akbar yet. Now probably wasn’t the best time to mention the fact that she wasn’t planning to have any children until they’d been married for at least a couple of years.

“I’ll willingly help people who are sick here in the camp, but I have a job, a career at the hospital.”

“Your job is to help me and be here as my wife.”

“I’ll help you and I’ll do my best to be a good wife, but that doesn’t mean I can’t also be a doctor.”

“You can be a doctor to the people here. When they’re sick, you can help them.”

“Akbar, I want to go to work at the Women’s Hospital.”

“And how will you get there?” he asked.

“In my Jeep, of course.” Sarah couldn’t understand why her husband was being so difficult about this.