Stolen

By Elizabeth Keimach

The plot outline revolves around the kidnapping of Sarah, a four year old English girl, taken away to Saudi Arabia. The story follows a complicated path of later getting back to England, her reawakening memories including the resurfacing of her childhood English, the betrayal by a friend, and her Saudi father's determination to get her back.The novel is my examination of a land where women who have no rights are juxtaposed against females in the west enjoying hard-won freedoms that are relatively new even in the advanced democracies. My book recounts many true events such as the execution of women for what we would regard as minor infractions of a pre-industial, medieval code. But now with more contact with the West, and internet and modern travel and communications, there is occurring a gradual awakening, among many men as well. But it is mostly the women of the Middle East who are rebelling, and this novel is my attempt to stir the growing flames and encourage these brave examples of deep courage.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Nov 10, 2014
• ISBN: 9781326074432

Book preview

Stolen

STOLEN

Women in many traditional societies are often little more than baby producing machines, sex objects, household slaves, and in some cases, if they are from wealth, symbols of status for males. And if they diverge from what is accepted and deemed proper they can be stoned to death, tortured, imprisoned, and mutilated. This is undeniably the case in Saudi Arabia, a place depicted in the book showing how females are bound and shackled by a rigid social structure so vastly and profoundly different from England. Women are never allowed outside without a male relative in tow, and in addition they have to be covered from head to toe in black, and are of course not allowed to drive. They are actually not even permitted to travel anywhere without the permission of the dominant man in their family or clan. Men rule and control this oil rich, albeit sparsely populated country where most of the manual and other general labour is carried out by foreign workers. Overlying customs and practices are the teachings of Islam, founded in the 7th century and incorporating a belief system passionately professed by the vast ruling family. The novel is my examination of a land where women who have no rights are juxtaposed against females in the West enjoying hard-won freedoms that are relatively new even in the advanced democracies. My book recounts many true events such as the execution of women for what we would regard as minor infractions of a pre-industial, medieval code. But now with more contact with the West, and internet and modern travel and communications, there is occurring a gradual awakening, among many men as well. But it is mostly the women of the Middle East who are rebelling, and this novel is my attempt to stir the growing flames and encourage these brave examples of deep courage

© Elizabeth Keimach 2014. All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced in

any form by any mechanical or electronic means

without written permission of the author or publisher.

978-1-326-07443-2

STOLEN

ELIZABETH KEIMACH

For Burt, Gary, Kerryn, Abby and Lana

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Thanks to all those who helped me shape my novel by listening patiently, reading interminable chapters and giving

sound advice

Chapter 1 

Why do I look so different from everyone else? Laila thought, staring at herself in the mirror. I am so ugly, with my pale skin, yellow hair and blue eyes. Everyone else has been kissed by the sun with bronzed tones and lovely brown or black hair. 

She had felt an alien in her family for as long as she could remember. However, now she was to leave her home and live in a new place. Her father had arranged a marriage for her with a wealthy merchant three times her age. Laila's father, Mohammed Abdul, was a very rich businessman who lived in luxury with his four wives and fifteen children. Selina, his favourite wife, whom he indulged outrageously, was the pearl amongst his wives and Laila was her only child. They lived in a very large house in Riyadh, a town in Saudi Arabia. The mansion had a central courtyard and inside there were wide stone archways, spacious corridors and walls with traditional fresco paintings. Laila's bedroom was upstairs where most of the wives and children slept. There were many servants and each wife had her own suite of rooms and personal attendant.

At mealtimes, like most households in Riyadh, the males and females ate in separate dining rooms and Laila would be required to cover up completely and wear a headscarf and niqab, the face veil. As she glanced in the mirror she saw before her an unidentifiable figure dressed in sombre black. The only thing that showed were her sapphire blue eyes. When she arrived for lunch she could remove the niqab and headscarf. Some of the females even took off their black gowns revealing brightly coloured silken dresses.

Laila hurried downstairs. Going past her father's office she remembered that he had an important visitor, but strangely the door was slightly ajar. Pausing beside it she listened to the voices inside and was amazed when she understood some of the words that the foreigner was using. She wondered how that could possibly be, having never studied a foreign language. In fact in her sixteen years Laila had hardly left the enclosure, as her parents had insisted that she receive an education at home with the other children of the house. She had lived a very sheltered existence and for most of it had been extremely unhappy.

Laila did remember when she was very young being closer to her mother. Selina had paid her a lot of attention and had bought the child beautiful silk clothes, ribbons for her hair, pretty bangles and colourful necklaces. But as the young girl grew older her mother had lost interest in her. Selina spent most of her time grooming herself and going on shopping expeditions or taking part in social functions.

When she was younger, some of her half brothers or sisters, would tease or shout insults at her. 

Pasty face, Blue-eyed Devil, or Chalky.

When she grew older the taunts stopped but she never felt close to any of them. Growing up Laila did not see a lot of her father for he often went abroad. Sometimes weeks would pass before she would see him again. The girl felt unloved and lonely in this house full of relatives but this was home and the thought of moving to another household absolutely terrified her.

As she walked to the dining room Laila wondered about her father's visitor. How did she understand his language? That night tossing and turning in a troubled sleep, she suddenly awoke with a start for she had dreamed about a little girl who was crying out, I want my mummy over and over again. During the day too there were flashbacks to a place she had never seen before. A little blonde girl, was running through a green field with a younger child who looked remarkably like her, and there were other images too of a family gathered around a tree which was decorated with ornaments and shining lights. It would seem that something inside of her had been unleashed when she had heard the foreign tongue.

That night after a fitful sleep, she suddenly awoke with a start. Was it a dream or had it really happened? A little girl was being bundled into a car, she was crying and calling out,    Mummy mummy in the strange language Laila had so recently heard.

The young girl was distraught. What was happening to her? She resolved to find out what country the visitor came from and so after breakfast she knocked on her mother's door. On being told to enter she walked into the luxuriously furnished room. Her mother was seated in an armchair and a servant was giving her a manicure. Laila studied Selina. Her mother was a beautiful woman with an olive skin, dark brown hair that cascaded down her back and chocolate brown eyes. She looked nothing like her daughter. With her free hand Selina gestured for the girl to sit down, saying, Taja will be finished soon.

When the session ended her mother turned to Laila and said,   

Did you want something?

She was not unfriendly but her words lacked warmth for clearly she was eager to get ready for some social event or shopping spree. Laila stood awkwardly in front of this elegant woman. In Arabic she said Mother, I was just wondering about fathers visitor, where does he come from?

I believe he's from England, replied Selina in a very uninterested tone.

So, Laila thought, I know English, but how can that be? I have spoken Arabic all my life.

During the day there were further flashbacks to a childhood in a strange land. The situation was getting more and more puzzling. She dare not speak to her parents and was close to no one in the household. The young woman feared that something really bad had happened to her when she was very young and was determined to go to the British Embassy.

Well before dawn Laila started to get ready for her flight. She put on the obligatory abaya, the long black gown with its hood, then tied a scarf tightly to her head so that not a strand of her blonde hair was visible, then the face veil, and lastly, a pair of long, black gloves. She studied herself in the mirror. All that was visible were her bright blue eyes the rest of her was completely covered up. Now the brave young girl was ready for her desperate mission.

With the long dark shadows clinging to the walls, she crept down the stairs. Each creak of the step made her pause fearing that someone would hear. After what seemed like an eternity she reached the heavy blue door. It would be locked and the key as usual was hanging on a large hook to the right, Carefully she lifted the heavy metal object from its perch. It almost slipped from her grasp on to the hard stone floor and her heart pounded. Her trembling fingers turned the key in the lock and she pushed open the door. By now perspiration was streaming off her forehead and stinging her eyes. Once outside she froze hoping that no one had heard the scraping of the door against the flagstones, but all was still. Quietly the frightened girl stole out of the house. 

She was barely visible and hoped the darkness would be her friend. Laila took nothing with her and although she didn't know exactly the location of the British Embassy, she knew it was about 15 minutes away in the centre of the city. Slipping through the gate of the surrounding wall she started walking, looking steadily ahead, trying to avoid drawing attention to herself; hoping that she wouldn't be accosted for being a woman alone on the streets without a male, something strictly forbidden in Riyadh. There would be consequences if the Mutawa; the government's religious police, saw her. There were stories about the zeal of these guardians of the faith and how they would severely chastise women who disobeyed this rule. There was even the possibility that she could undergo a terrifying attack by men who would feel a certain licence in raping or punishing her for venturing out alone and breaking Sharia law.

She quickly made her way towards the city. Then behind her she heard a sound and her heart started to pound. Not daring to look round she quickened her pace. There was no place to hide for the nearby houses were, like her home, enclosed by high walls. Laila could hardly breathe. Any moment she expected a rush of feet and a shouted demand to halt. Trembling with fear and almost in a state of collapse she felt something tugging at the bottom of her robe. Glancing down she saw a scrawny mongrel dog. Immediately she stopped, hoping that her stillness would discourage the animal. 

In Islam dogs have been seen as impure, and there are several injunctions that warn against most contact with dogs. Unfortunately, some Muslims have used this traditional view to justify the neglect of these animals. This was probably one of those unfortunate creatures and sure enough after sniffing her for a few seconds, he drifted past and went off on his own wanderings. Heaving a sigh of relief Laila continued on her way. She felt vulnerable, alone and friendless.

Gradually the houses made way for shuttered shops. A few people were scurrying to work at this early hour. Their curious stares told her that she was a rarity. Desperately she searched for someone to ask for directions. It must be a woman for a female dare not approach a man. At last she spied an older lady accompanied by a male and she approached her and quietly asked, Sahbah el kheer. Please can you tell me where the British Embassy is? .

Again there was the curious stare, then the woman turned to the man beside her as if asking for permission to respond. Turning back to Laila she simply pointed in a direction and the pair hurried on their way.

‘Shukran, thank you,’ mouthed Laila.

She resumed walking past the closed and deserted shops in the direction the woman had indicated. Suddenly the silence was broken as the pre-call to prayer echoed through the city. The sound resounded in Laila's ears, it seemed to be saying, Go home, go home. Shaking her head as if to say I won't listen to your summons the young girl pressed on. Soon the shadows began their retreat as dawn approached. No longer would she have the cloak of darkness to protect her. There were more people on the street now but no sign of an embassy and Laila began to panic, Oh where is it, where is it?

Just then a man stepped out of an alley and barred her way, he folded his arms and stared hard at her. Quickly she side-stepped and hurried past but he shouted after her, Shame on you woman. His words pounded in her ears as she searched frantically for another female. At last she saw a large young lady walking towards her accompanied by a thin, old man. Containing her panic she asked the woman the whereabouts of the British Embassy and was told exactly where it was located. Thanking her, Laila hurried on and seconds later saw an impressive looking structure. There were two armed policemen guarding the gate but the Royal Coat of Arms high on the wall confirmed its function.

‘Enquiries,’ she said in Arabic to the nearest policeman. He pointed to a small gate at the side of the main entrance. There was a bell push and a notice that read PLEASE RING.

Laila removed her hood, head scarf and face veil and then pressed and pushed at the bell but no one came. She kept trying and trying. By now the tears streaming down her face, until exhausted she slumped against the heavy wooden door. The policemen glanced at her but did nothing;. She began to slide to the ground. The door opened suddenly and she was helped back to her feet by the strong arms of a rather dishevelled young man. He held her up and guided her through into the Embassy.

Placing her in a chair, he closed the door ‘I’m the duty officer, don’t worry, I’ll be back in a minute’ he said kindly and. returned with a young woman. She knelt in front of Laila and said, Just sit there, Morris will make you a cup of tea, you look as though you could do with one.

Can you help me please. I think someone take me when I am very young and bring me to Riyadh, said Laila slowly in her four year old English. Just then the young man returned with the tea and handed it to the girl. The clerk got up and whispered to the man, I think we'll have to wake Mr Brown. 

Thirty minutes later Laila was escorted to the office of Mr Brown, an aide to the ambassador. 

The young girl looked anxiously at the face of the gentleman sitting behind a large, impressive desk. She saw before her a small, slim man in his early forties, with thinning auburn hair that he combed back off his face. He looks kind, she thought.

Brown had never married and had worked in Saudi Arabia for seven years He longed to return to England. He glanced up as Laila entered.

Please sit down, he said indicating the chair in front of his desk. Now tell me, how can I help you? 

Slowly Laila told him how past memories had been unleashed when she heard the visitor from England. She recounted memories of standing outside a shop with a large lollipop which she shouldn't have opened until the return to the hotel. Of her mother telling her she must wait outside the shop. Of being snatched by two men and bundled into a car and screaming, Mummy, mummy, mummy.

Maurice Brown was stunned by this incredible recitation. This was a first for him. Clearly the woman in front of him was English. However she had the vocabulary of a very young child.  He questioned her and recognised immediately the name of her father, Mohammed Abdul. He was one of the richest men in the city and related to Saudi royalty and here was this young woman saying that Abdul had colluded in what appeared to be a kidnapping.

Don't send me back. They say I must marry a very old man. Please help me. Tears filled her eyes.

I see! Well first I must speak to the ambassador. I'll send Mary to sit with you. She works here in the embassy and is very kind.

With that Brown hurried off to find Mary and the Ambassador. This was really