Memoirs of an Arabian Princess | Page 5

offer the newly wedded couple his good wishes in
person.
My mother was a Circassian by birth. She, together with a brother and
a sister, led a peaceful existence on my father's farm. Of a sudden, war
broke out, the country was overrun by lawless hordes, and our little
family took refuge "in a place that was under the ground" - as my
mother put it, probably meaning a cellar, a thing unknown in Zanzibar.
But the desperate ruffians found them out; they murdered both of my
mother's parents, and carried away the three children on horseback. No
tidings ever reached my mother as to the fate of either brother, or sister.
She must have come into my father's possession at a tender age, as she
lost her first tooth at his home, and was brought up with two of my
sisters of her own years as companions. Like them she learned to read,
an accomplishment which distinguished her above the other women in
her position, who usually came when they were at least sixteen or
eighteen, and by that time of course had no ambition to sit with little
tots on a hard schoolroom mat. She was not good-looking, but was tall
and well-built, and had black eyes; her hair also was black, and it
reached down to her knees. Of a sweet, gentle disposition, nothing
appealed to her more than to help someone who might be in trouble.
She was always ready to visit, and even to nurse invalids; to this very
day I remember how she would go from one sick bed to another, book
in hand, to read out pious counsels of comfort.
My mother had considerable influence with Seyyid Sa•d, who rarely
denied her wishes, though they were for the most part put forward on
behalf of others. Then, too, when she came to see him, he would rise,

and step toward her - a signal distinction. Mild and quiet by nature, she
was conspicuously modest, and was honest and open in all things. Her
intellectual attainments were of no great account; on the other hand, she
showed admirable skill at needlework. To me she was a tender, loving
mother, which, however, did not prevent her from punishing me
severely when I deserved it. Her friends at Bet il Mtoni were numerous,
a rare circumstance for a woman belonging to an Arab household. No
one's faith in God could have been stronger. I call to mind a fire, which
broke out one moonlight night in the stables, while my father was in
town with his retinue. Upon a false alarm that our house had caught,
my mother seized me under one arm and her large Koran under the
other, and ran out of doors. Nothing else concerned her, in that moment
of peril.
So far as I can remember, my father - the Seyyid, or Sultan - had only
one principal wife, from the time I was born; the other, secondary
wives, numbering seventy-five at his death, he had bought from time to
time. His principal wife, Azze bint Sef, of the royal house of Oman,
held absolute sway in his home. Although small and
insignificant-looking, she exercised a singular power over her husband,
who fell in readily with all of her ideas. Toward the Sultan's other
wives and to his children she behaved with domineering haughtiness
and censoriousness; luckily she had no children of her own, else their
tyranny would certainly have been unendurable. Every one of my
father's children - there were thirty-six when he died - was by a
secondary wife, so that we were all equals, and no questions as to the
colour of our blood needed to be raised.
This principal wife, who had to be addressed as "Highness" (for which
the Arabic is Seyyid and the Suahili Bibi), was hated and feared by
young and old, high and low, and liked by none. To this day do I
remember how stiffly she would pass everybody by, hardly ever
dropping a smile or a word. How different was our kind old father! He
always had a pleasant greeting to give, whether the person was one of
consequence or a lowly subordinate. But my high and mighty
stepmother knew how to keep herself on the top of her exalted rank,
and no one ever ventured into her presence without being specially

invited. I never observed her to go out unless grandly escorted,
excepting when we went with the Sultan to their bath-house, intended
for their exclusive use. Indoors, whoever met her was completely
awestruck, as is a private soldier here in the presence of a general. Thus
the importance she gave herself was felt plainly enough, although upon
the whole it did not seriously spoil the charm of life at Bet il Mtoni.