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I
question myself: Am I not the mother of two daughters? Do I
not owe my daughters and their daughters after them every
effort to bring transformation?
I
smile, once again thinking back on the puppet skit I had
watched with Sara's youngest children, and I recall the words
of the funny but wise puppet Goha. "Does a faithful
saluki (desert dog] stop barking in his master's defense when
a single bone is thrown his way?"
I
shout, "No!"
Kareem
stirs and I rub the back of his head, whispering sweet words,
lulling my husband back to sleep.
I
know at that moment that I will not keep the pledge I made
under coercion. I will let the world community decide when I
should return to silence. Until people choose to close their
ears to the plight of women in despair, I will continue to
reveal the true happenings behind the secrecy of the black
veil. This is to be my destiny.
I
make a decision. In spite of the promises I made under threat
of detention, when I next travel out of the kingdom I will
contact my friend Jean Sasson. There is more to be
accomplished.
When
I close my eyes to sleep, I am a more focused but much sadder
woman than the Sultana who had awakened the previous morning,
for I know that I am once again entering a risky arena, and
even though my punishment and possibly even my death will be
cruel, failure will be more bitter, for failure is
everlasting.
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