ONE FOOT OF THICKNESS
A Novel by: Abdullah
Al-Wesali
Chapter 11
I am now 60 years old, and I have
25 sons by 24 wives, and with my sword, a gift of the deputy governor of the
Holy City, I have cut off 600 heads, which I found easier than cutting off the
hands--some 90 of those-- but the easiest by far was the execution of women,
since all you need do is shoot them while they are completely veiled.
A
Famed Saudi Executioner
Latif(1)
continued to report to the interrogation center in Dhahran because the police
had assigned him to interpret. Deborah(2) also
continued resisting all pressures to confess or change her story concerning the
21st of December. Today, this
morning, she was in more fragile psychological condition, having spent three
nights in the Dammam women’s detention center.
Earlier, on Saturday, the security authorities had taken her to search
her apartment again, and let her feed her cat, and allowed her to pick up some
medication, but not so much as she might need to commit suicide.
Time had become a matter of
some urgency to Saudi Security; the interrogator himself was under the greatest pressure because he expected the truth was
close to coming out so that with just a bit more pressure on the subject he
would manage to have done a great job for which he could expect reward or
promotion. Furthermore, the case had attracted
the attention of the Interior Minister himself, the high prince Naif, so the
interrogator nocked a last arrow from his quiver and told her that her friend
Lucy had already given up all the details of the crime, how both of them did it
together without, however, mentioning any of the details, if there were any; it
was obviously some sort of interrogator’s trick, but it worked. Debbie began to talk unsteadily in a disorganized
manner, but her talk came spontaneously and without guile. The interrogator let her talk as she chose
and Latif was hard pressed to follow her quick speech as best he could, with
the reporting corporal taking down everything as Latif spoke.
She said Yvonne(3) had
betrayed her, and she had kicked her out of their apartment in spite of the
intimate relationship between them as lovers, and she pointed out some bruises
and scratches on her hand. Then suddenly
she looked Latif in the face and asked:
--Are they going to cut off my head?
Her sudden question came as a
kind of shock to Latif. Her question
sent chills through his body. Many
memories came to his mind of Deborah—he saw her in her nursing uniform, but the
strongest memory was of her asking about some Arabic word in a pocket
dictionary she carried in her hands on the specialty ward and he distinctly
recalled her odd pronunciation of the word “cough” in Arabic (khaah) and how
difficult the word came to her mouth with the differing phonemes of the two
languages. Language had long been the
first cause of many misunderstandings.
He glanced at the
investigator’s face, without being able to translate her question, but the
investigator nodded his head to reassure him and stiffen his resolve, so without
ever translating her fearful question, Latif said it would be for the judge to
decide and she could help herself if she cooperated and didn’t hold anything
back.
Latif didn’t know whether he
could promise this without the authority of the investigator, but he did,
perhaps because he felt an overwhelming urge to finish this painful and
nerve-wracking extra-curricular assignment.
Debbie continued her confusing
account, less nervously. Afterwards, the
investigator asked her to write out what she had said and sign her
statement. As she finished, she really
looked awful, but her eyes grew calmer.
Latif completed his shift as an
interpreter at seven that evening and when he got home his mother informed him
that Khalid(4)
had called him several times and left a message to call him as soon as he
arrived home. He went to his apartment and took a warm shower because the
weather had gotten colder with the approach of Christmas.
The minute he stepped out of
the shower the phone rang again:
--Where are you, man?
said Khalid who was on the other end, his voice strangely pitched and
angry.
--I was busy, Latif answered, slightly taken aback.
--Busy?! Khalid
said—and you left us to worry about you in this terrible situation—and then
afterward said
--Laura’s(5) looking for you; she’s on duty tonight.
--Ok ok . . .
But this reply failed to satisfy
Khalid,
--Ok, ok? Is that
all you can say. What should I tell
her? Will you be coming in or not?
It was difficult situation for
Latif since he had no guarantee that even his home phone wasn’t tapped and
everything being recorded—with his friend pressing him so hard.
--Khalid, please, I’ll deal with it.
Mutual trust between the two
friends was long-standing and deep, so Khalid could sense the tone of
seriousness in Latif’s voice, and at least he was ok and at home and soon
enough he would learn the reason for Latif’s brief absence.
Latif who had been planning to
lie down on the bed after his shower and read until he fell asleep couldn’t do
as he had planned to do, realizing how impossible it would be. His mind was unable to come to rest, and
Khalid’s call had only added to his restlessness.
Forty-five minutes elapsed
between Khalid’s call and his showing up at the ER. He raised his voice deliberately as he said
good evening to staff members passing through the area to the back where the
staff lounge was located and from there into the area where he and Laura were accustomed
to meet, well out of view of others or security.
The curtain around bed 7 on the
ER floor pulled back soon enough after Latif’s loud general greeting. Laura appeared from behind it. As she saw him crossing the floor, along with
the other voices, she echoed:
--Good evening!
Her voice was unavoidably
audible as she nodded her head with a smile of pleasure she could not have
hidden. And she turned back to finish an
ECG for a patient she had been attending to before he arrived.
Once she had completed the ECG
of her patient she handed over the chart to the physician on duty and asked one
of her nursing colleagues to take over for her since she wanted to take the
first fifteen minutes of her short break.
As soon as she stood before
him, he stood up. Before anything else was
said or could happen, he took her by her shoulders and kissed her mouth, very
deeply but quickly, before anyone could see, especially with the increased
level of shepherding security.
Something in her voice warned
him as she replied to his question about how she was feeling. Something he failed to understand. Maybe it was the tenderness, or the deception,
or something else he imagined, but now was not the time to learn.
As he spoke to her, he avoided
providing any details, since he could still hear the investigator’s warning and
bore it in mind; however much he might have wanted to, he could not tell her
all the details. He did assure her that
good news was about to follow, but they should continue to avoid talking to
each other on the phone because it was possible that all the phone lines in the
hospital complex were tapped so they should continue to use messages in their
cabinets to communicate. Then he told
her she would be safe now.
None of this changed the look
in her eye appreciably; a strange look was still there!
--Are you ok?
He asked after some seconds of
looking her in the eyes to search out her feelings.
--I have a confession to make, Latif
As if nothing good had happened
since the interrogation center call, his heart rebounded to his earlier anxiety
and fear and he exclaimed,
--My God, another confession?!
She waved her hand dismissively
as soon as she realized her mistake and said:
--No, no, Latif, this is another issue, please.
She longed to clasp him tightly
because she knew that what she was about to say was going to hurt him.
And she begged him to forgive
her for thinking all this time that he was the one who had informed Saudi
Security about her when she had told him in the beginning about her doubts
concerning her friend Debbie. She tried
to reason that her suspicion had been understandable, reminding him that these
had been terrifying circumstances, even as she continued to shiver recalling
the police interrogation center.
Despite his impulse to forgive
completely, he began to suspect her in this situation, and still suffered some
pain. After all he had done for her, she
had failed to trust him when she had so easily trusted two killers simply
because the three of them shared a common culture!
--Don’t worry, he said sadly
A gratified smile appeared on
her face. Break time was over then and
she stood up and said that she wanted this whole nightmare to be over soon, a
smile to assure her came to his lips, and he was about to leave when he heard
her say:
--Are you sure you aren’t forgetting something?!
He turned back, gave her a
quick but deep kiss and slipped out the back hall of the ER. And through the thick glass of the ER floor,
as he headed for the parking lot he was certain her eyes continued to follow
him. And as he entered his car and took
his seat behind the wheel, he could see her hand—as she waved to him.
*****
Through the 23rd of
December Latif continued to report to the interrogation center in Dhahran and
the investigator alerted him that he was supposed to report to the center in
traditional dress because they would be escorting the two nurses to court to
authenticate their confessions before the judicial system, but this instruction
slipped his mind until he was just about to leave the house. He went back and took off his western clothes
to wear his traditional thobe but couldn’t find a gotrah or egal anywhere in
his apartment; he needed his mother’s help.
She gave him his brother’s gotrah which fit him well enough.
A small truck with
darkly-tinted windows transferred the two girls from the women’s detention
center to the court.
In court, three Saudi judges in
traditional Saudi dress lacking egals for some reason were already waiting in
the courtroom; the one in the middle appeared to be the chief judge since he
was the one who began speaking. He
advised the nurses that the transcript of the interrogations and their
confessions would be read out in open court before them, and that during this
reading they had the right to raise their hands if there were objections, or
any error, or any incompleteness in the statements. The judge to the left began reading loudly
but slowly as Latif translated into English.
At the close of proceedings the chief judge asked the two nurses if this
was what had happened, both agreed and made formal acknowledgment by signing
off on both sides of each sheet of paper.
Afterwards, the three judges affixed their signatures in turn. Before this hearing, the two nurses had been
taken to the victim’s apartment to show exactly what had happened by carrying
out a re-enactment to demonstrate how they had committed the crime. After court the two nurses were taken back to
the women’s detention center, west of Dammam.
News of
the two nurses’ capture spread quickly; while many people, especially the Asian
staff of the hospital, felt relief, mixed feelings of confusion and relief circulated
among the westerners. While some Saudis
were pleased with the competence of the Saudi police having done their duty in
a mere five days, other people speculated the result must be a rush to judgment,
to capture whomever fell most readily into police hands and convict them in
order to satisfy the higher authorities or the Interior Minister.
As a
consequence, the majority of western companies in the eastern province of the
Kingdom moved their upcoming celebrations for Christmas and the New Year out of
the Kingdom. The co-incidence raised a
lot of eyebrows about this absence of the foreigners’ presence, not just within
the religious police, but also among the general public.
As an
apology, Laura slipped into Latif’s ER cabinet an invitation to spend some time
in Bahrain on Christmas Eve, the next Tuesday, the first of three days off she
had, as scheduled by nursing administration.
Since he was supposed to work these three days, she wrote across the top
of the invitation, “Ask the nursing director to give you three days’ leave. No westerner will refuse you anything! You are a man of influence now.”
Just as
everything was beginning to return to normal at the hospital complex, another
war seemed about to start, as news of the involvement in the crime of women
from England and Scotland--and the possibility of their being publicly
executed--reached the British press. And
what added injury to insult was that the British consul in Dammam had made a formal
request to see the convicted nurses, which had been rejected by Saudi
authorities.
By:
Abdullah Al Wesali
Translation:
Mary Jane White
 |
Latif: young
Saudi, working part time as medical interpreter in Military Hospital, to
support his study.
Debora: Female
nurse from England in the military hospital, accused of killing her colleague
the Australian nurse Yvonne Gilford.
Yvonne
Gilford: the victim
Khalid: Saudi Medical intern.
Laura:
Another Australian nurse
ليست هناك تعليقات:
إرسال تعليق