Chapter 30: Interviews In The Harem...

After a few moments a middle-aged woman who was obviously English came into the ante-room and said, conversationally, "You must be the American reporter. Would you like some coffee?"

Tiggs stared at her. She had never seen anyone dressed quite as the woman was. She wore a short satin dressing-gown, reaching only to the tops of her thighs and with only a button at the neck and no belt to hold it closed. Other than that she was completely naked, not even wearing slippers. As she walked her breasts and shaven cunt were clearly visible.

When she had recovered from her shock, Tiggs asked, "Who are you and why are you dressed like that?"

The woman replied quietly, "I am Princess Zubeydeh, mother to His Magnificence, the Emir Mahmoud Abdullah, may he live for ever, and this is the normal dress for members of his harem. It may look odd to Western eyes, but it allows him free access to my body whenever he wishes to honour me with his attentions. Would you like some coffee?"

"But you are English?"

"Yes, I was Amelia Smith before I married my Master's father, and during my second marriage I was Amelia Ransome. Here I have the honour of serving my Master, may he live for ever, as Zubeydeh," and turning to one of the attendants she ordered, "Coffee as I like it."

"But doesn't it embarrass you to walk around like that in front of all these men?"

"I am not seen by any men but my son when I am here. These," she waved at the attendants, "are all eunuchs."

"And you said your son ... he..."

For very nearly the first time in her life Tiggs was at a loss for words.

"Yes. I have the opportunity of sharing my son's bed occasionally. It is a great honour to serve the Emir thus. All the women in the harem vie for this privilege. Now I suggest you sit down ... perhaps before you fall down?" said Zubeydeh.

"Well. I guess I can pull strings at the US Embassy and get you out of here. It may take a day or two but I'm sure we can work out a way for you to escape."

Zubeydeh laughed aloud at this. "Whatever makes you think that I want to 'escape' as you put it? I am very happy to remain here and will resist any attempt by your Embassy to abduct me."

Just then coffee arrived and this made a welcome interruption for both of them. Zubeydeh was finding this reporter difficult to understand. An interview meant asking questions to discover facts and feelings, didn't it? This young woman seemed to want only to confirm her already formed prejudices. Tiggs, for her part, found the thought of meeting someone with one's most private parts on display was shocking, but even that paled to insignificance against the implication that incest was happening.

When they had drunk their coffee, Zubeydeh decided to take charge of this interview, and so she said, "I'm sure you are more interested in the way of life for women here than in my private life. Would you like to come through into the harem proper and see how we live?"

Tiggs grasped this offer gratefully, "I'd love to."

As they walked through into the harem, Tiggs was horrified to see one of the attendants casually use his whip on a woman who wore a sort of shapeless smock.

"What in hell was that for?" she asked Zubeydeh.

The Princess asked a question in Arabic of the eunuch concerned and then translated his reply, "She spilled some coffee on his kameez. It is of no importance, she is only a kitchen slave."

"Do they whip you?"

"Sometimes; at least they would if I were stupid enough to annoy one of them."

"And this is permitted?"

"Of course. Life here is very different from your world. You must understand that this is the only life most of these women have ever experienced, and they are well-fed and cared for. The women who are part of the harem, those dressed like me, have no duties, except occasionally the Emir will call for one of them for his own bed or for a guest to use. The kitchen slaves do have work to do, but even their duties are light, no more than a kitchen worker in the USA, and they have a job for life. They cannot be laid off, nor do they live in bad conditions and they eat the same food as we do."

"But they are slaves," Tiggs expostulated.

"Is there a difference? Really?" asked Zubeydeh, "Life for a kitchen worker in New York can't be easy. Here they never go out so they are never in danger. There is no crime in the harem, so they cannot be robbed or mugged."

"How do they shop for things like make-up and presents for family and so on?"

"They don't; none of us do. If I want some special make-up or food or, as you say, a present for a friend, I simply shop on the internet. It isn't lonely here because there are sixty of us in the harem proper and that is surely as many friends as you have?"