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I remember Death of a Princess
Memories of Saudi Arabia, circa 1980
The news is filled with Saudi Arabia these days. First, the glowing articles about the new prince modernizing the Arabian peninsula, allowing women to drive, and the like. Fawning, hopeful articles that appeared in the middle of last year.
Then the shocking and abhorrent killing and dismemberment of journalist and Saudi national Jamal Khashoggi in his own consulate.
The sisters who bound themselves to one another last year and threw themselves from a bridge so they wouldn’t, couldn’t be sent back to Saudi Arabia alive.
Rahaf Alqunun who fled her family while vacationing in Kuwait a few weeks ago, boarding a plane to Thailand, where a man blithely pocketed her passport, leaving her high and dry.
It just doesn’t end, this torrent of news about Saudi Arabia. Now, we’re hearing dark murmurings of nuclear power deals between Trump’s cronies and the government in Riyadh. And before that, references to $30 Billion in deals that “businessmen” are loathe to sever, no matter the ethical implications.
These articles catch my eye perhaps a little more than they do the average Joe. (Or Joelle.)
You see, I lived in Saudi Arabia for two-and-a-half years — rather formative years, I might say. I…
