A Tale of Deception

Within two weeks, Ann was on her way to Amman, Jordan. The arid country of Jordan has Israel to the west, Syria to the north, and Saudi Arabia at its eastern and southern borders. The Jordan River flows out of the Sea of Galilee, from the north, through the Dead Sea, and out into the Gulf of Aqaba, making it a natural boundary between the Jewish nation and Jordan.

  Late in the afternoon of the next day, Ann’s jet was landing at the Queen Alia International Airport, south of the capital. As she disembarked the jetliner, walking through the Jetway, she entered the beautiful, air-conditioned terminal of Amman, built with graceful arches and walls of windows.

  Once through customs, she entered the crowded airport. Standing nearby, in a group of people near the exit, was a tall, distinguished man in his fifty’s, with a white tailored beard. He was dress in the traditional Muslim dress with the red and white checkered head gear, holding a sign with her name on it.

  “Mr. Jaffer?” she asked him.

  “Yes,” he answered in English, with a large, friendly smile, and a twinkle in his eyes, “Mrs. Henderson?”

  Ann nodded her head in the noisy terminal.

  “This way please,” he informed her.

  Ann pulled out the handle extension on her overhead luggage and followed him through the crowd, rolling it along beside her.

  Looking back, he said, “This way to the baggage claim area.”

  “Mr. Jaffer, I don’t have any other luggage. I’m traveling light this trip,” she told him, pointing to her one and only suit case.

  He looked surprised, and grinned broadly, “I believe this is the first time I have ever seen a woman with only one suitcase. I’m not sure what to do?” he laughed, speaking in excellent English. “This way, then… ”

  They changed directions and soon she was in his van, traveling out of the airport and onto Route 35 toward Amman. Forty-five minutes later they were driving through the city, and then out into the countryside, passing olive groves, date plantations and wheat fields, while cattle and goat herds roamed the dry arid lands, beyond. Eventually the vehicle rose out of the dessert and into the mountains near Irbid, the third largest city in Jordan.

  Razeen had been driving for two hours. “We have another half hour to go,” he told her. “The school is near the Syrian border on the Yarmouk River.”

  The sun had descended low in the sky when they arrived at the Catholic school. Driving up to the massive gate made of wood, Razeen honked his horn.

  Sitting in the front seat, Ann couldn’t see anything but the massive gate embedded in the stone walls that surrounding the school. Only the tops of palm, large Cypress, and some Juniper trees could be seen above the fortification.

  Razeen had turned off the van. Getting out, he stood near a shuttered window by the gate. After a bit, he came back to the van, reached in and honked the horn again. Presently a nun opened the window, and Razeen talked with her. Ann couldn’t hear what he said, but the gates were open for them and Razeen drove the van to the parking lot near the large, massive stone building, four stories high in the center, with three story wings at either end of the school.

  A young nun opened the front door of the school for them. Entering the large hallway, Ann and Razeen followed her down the hall of white stone to the mother superior’s office.

  An elderly woman in a nun’s habit stood up from her desk and offered Ann a seat.

  Turning to the gentleman, she said, “Mr. Jaffer, nice to see you again. Sister Mary Margaret will see you have something to eat, and then take you to our guest rooms for the night. Thank you for bringing Mrs. Henderson so promptly. I don’t think we’ll need you, until the morning.”

  “Good night then, ladies. I’ll see you tomorrow, Mrs. Henderson,” he offered politely with a slight bow, before turning and following Sister Mary Margaret out of the room.

  “I’m afraid a lot has happened since you left America, Mrs. Henderson. Jamila has been crying all day,” she informed the American.

  “What happened?” asked Ann, concerned.

  “Let me start with what I know,” the mother superior explained.

  “After Razeen and Mr. Todd, from the Davis Detective Agency left, we were able to find out why Jamila didn’t want to contact her grandmother in America.”

  “Sister Mary Agnes has been close to the few girls that are left behind during the holidays and summer vacation. She’s in charge of caring for them, when the school is closed. She was able to get Jamila to tell her more, though she told me she suspected some of it.”

  “Jamila arrived here years ago, at the age of five. We were told she had no family and for almost five years, she was alone with Sister Mary Agnes during the holidays. Then Meridah Basha arrived, at the same age she had been, years before.”

  “Meridah has family, but for some unknown reason, she too is left behind during the holidays and has no visitors. The two became fast friends, depending on each other, and caring for one another. They have become surrogate sisters over the last six years, depending on each other for everything. The thought of leaving Meridah was unbearable to Jamila.”

  “Then, a letter came from Sheikh Abdul Basir Haddad, her benefactor, yesterday. In this letter, he stated he wouldn’t be supporting Jamila any longer, and arrangements were being made to send her to the United States to live with her grandmother. We’re to prepare her, and when the proper documents come, she’s to be sent there to live.”

  “It was a very short and concise letter. It has been my experience, in this country, that the Sheikh’s request is always in the form of a command. There is nothing we can do to alter this and Jamila knows it. She’s scared, heartbroken, and devastated with the changes that are coming. She’s leaving the only family she knows - the sisters and Meridah.”

  “Does Jamila know I’m here?” Ann asked.

  “Yes. When we received the letter, we knew there would be no choice about her going, and told her so. We explained you were coming to visit, but now with the Sheikh’s letter, we would be asking you to accompany her to her new home. I assume the Sheikh has made arrangements with Mrs. Drummond, her grandmother?”

  “I’ve no idea, Reverend Mother. This is the first I’ve heard about it, but I know Nessa would welcome the opportunity to have her. Mrs. Drummond has a lot of love to give, if the child is willing to take it,” Ann told her.

  “Then we must pray for them both. I thank God for His provision that you’ll be here for her, but beware… I don’t know if she’ll accept this new life willingly, though I don’t know what else she could do. She can’t stay here, and I don’t believe the girls would run away, but we must be vigilant, Mrs. Henderson. We must watch and pray.”

  “It breaks my heart to be removing her from here against her wishes, but I don’t see what else we can do?”

  Ann thought for a second and then offered, “Reverend Mother, Mrs. Drummond is a very rich woman. I’d have to talk with her, but I believe she’d be willing to pay Jamila’s expenses here, though I know it’s her wish to meet the child before she dies.”

  The mother superior considered this, then said, “No, I don’t think it would be wise. If the Sheikh took offense at his wishes not being met… well let’s just say, I think we need Jamila away from here for a while, starting a new life in a land holding more promise for her, then here.”

  “I understand,” Ann said sadly. “And Meridah will be alone? Doesn’t her family want her?”

  “No, like I said, we don’t know very much about her situation - she has never gone to be with them and they have never come here, but she does receive regular letters from home. She’ll have to remain here, but not alone, Mrs. Henderson. Sister Mary Agnes will comfort her as much as she can. Only God knows our futures, but I trust in the One who gives us life. We don’t always know or understand His will, but we must always trust Him.”

  “Thank you, Reverend Mother for sharing all this with me.”

  The mother superior stood and said, “I’ll take you to the kitchen, where we’ll get you some
thing to eat and then you’ll be taken to your room for the night. Tomorrow will be a long, sad day, I’m afraid. I’ll want to consult with Mr. Jaffer. He knows the Sheikh and the customs of this country so much more than I do. He may know of a way Jamila can stay, but I doubt it.”

  “What time is it in Spokane, do you think?” Ann asked the Reverend Mother.

  “It’s about eight hours from now, I believe.”

  “I’d like to call Mrs. Drummond and make sure she is aware of the situation here, to be sure she is prepared for her granddaughter’s arrival,” Ann stated.

  “You may use the phone in my office, but wait until about midnight. That would make it 8:00 o’clock in the morning over there.”

  After dinner, Ann unpacked a few things and took a nap. It had been a long trip and she was exhausted. Her alarm went off at 11:45 that night and before long, she was on the phone to the states. “Drummond Hall, may I help you?” Faye asked.

  “Oh, good, it’s you Faye. This is Ann. The situation here has drastically changed and Jamila will be coming with me to live with her grandmother,” Ann informed her.

  “How wonderful!” Faye said excitedly.

  “Faye, this is against Jamila’s will, she’s being commanded to go by her grandfather. Has he contacted Mrs. Drummond at all?”

  “I haven’t heard a word about it, and I don’t believe Nessa has either. There’s been nothing in the mail, or any phone calls.”

  “That’s what I thought. I need to talk with Nessa about it Faye, but be sure to watch her and make sure she doesn’t get too excited or tired out with this,” Ann warned her. “How is everything else going?”

  “Everything is fine here. Marty misses you of course. She just left for school and your mother’s upstairs studying. Carla seems to be more irritable than normal, though I can’t tell you why. I’m not sure what’s going on there, but I know Nessa is getting tired of it.”

  “I’m sorry to hear it. Nessa’s going to need her in the coming weeks and months. I wish she was easier to get along with. I think the woman’s causing more harm than good most of the time, if you ask me,” Ann stated in exasperation.

  “I couldn’t agree more, but we’ll just have to let Nessa deal with it. She’s in the morning room now, shall I put her on?”

  “Yes please. Make sure she’s sitting and comfortable, will you?” Ann requested.

  “You, bet. I’ll take the phone in to her, it has a long extension,” Faye said as she took the phone into the other room.

  Ann sat and listened to indistinguishable sounds, and voices.

  “Hello, Ann? How’s it going? Is she okay? How is she?” Nessa asked all at once.

  “Nessa, Jamila is fine, I think. It’s near midnight here, and I’ll probably get to see her in the morning. But for now, I need to tell you of some big changes occurring here, since I left yesterday,” Ann proceeded to share everything she had learned in the mother superior’s office with Mrs. Drummond, the woman who had everything, except a family of her own.

  The two women talked and planned, but both knew it was going to be up to Jamila how easy this transition was going to be.

  “Nessa, we should be leaving here within a day or so, I think. As soon as her passport and documents arrive, we’ll be taking the next flight home, unless Razeen knows of an alternative. Please let Faye do as much as she can for you. We don’t want you having a relapse anytime soon,” Ann said with concern.

  “I know, Ann, but to have Neilan’s child here, in this house. I’m scared and excited at the same time. I’ll get her rooms ready across the hall from mine, right away,” Nessa said breathlessly.

  “That would be fine, Nessa. I’ll leave it up to you. I’ll call you as soon as we know when we’re leaving. Take care of yourself and I’ll do what I can here to smooth the way. Give my love to Mom and Marty,” Ann concluded, saying good-bye and hanging up the phone.

  On her way to bed, she and the mother superior met Razeen in the hallway of the school. The mother superior told him of the letter from Sheikh Haddad, and then asked him if he thought Jamila could stay, if her grandmother from America paid her way.

  He looked at her for a second, and then simply said, “Jordan doesn’t hold her future - America does,” then turned and walked away.

  Ann slept deeply that night, fatigued, and emotionally drained. It was hard for her to get up the next morning for breakfast, but with determination she managed it. She wanted very much to meet Jamila.

  After breakfast, the mother superior took Ann to the girl’s room. All the other children were in class, except for her. Jamila was supposed to be packing, getting ready to leave the only security she had known for most of her young life. Her room was on the third floor, overlooking the gardens and the river beyond. Knocking on the door, they entered her room after hearing her soft, “Come in.”

  “Jamila, this is Mrs. Ann Henderson, from America. I’ve told her all about the letter from Sheikh Haddad. You’ll be going with her to your new home, when the time comes.”

  “Ann, this is Jamila Drummond, your employer’s granddaughter,” the mother superior said, introducing them.

  “How do you do, Jamila,” Ann said kindly.

  “Hello,” she replied softly, looking down at the floor, tears forming in her eyes.

  The room seemed small and stuffy, with no place to sit except for a chair by her desk and the plain, small bed.

  “May we take a walk outside, Reverend Mother? Is there a place we can sit and talk?” Ann asked, looking for a place of quiet and seclusion to visit with the girl.

  “Of course. Jamila, you may go into the gardens near the convent. You’re welcome to sit there and visit, if you wish,” the mother superior informed her.

  Jamila shrugged her shoulders and quietly lead the way out of her room. Ann followed close beside her.

  No words were spoken as they walked through the school, vaguely hearing the voices of teachers and students through the closed doors of the classrooms as they passed.

  Outside the heat was increasing with the rising of the sun. Through a garden gate, Jamila lead the woman from America to a bench near a water fountain. With its moisture and the shade of the trees, they sat comfortably, Jamila quiet, defeated, and unhappy.

  Ann took the shoulder bag she’d been carrying, and placed it on the bench beside her. Opening it, she took out a photograph of Nessa.

  Ann gently said, “This is your grandmother, Jamila.”

  Jamila glanced over at the picture Ann was holding. In spite of herself, she reached over and took it from her, looking at it closer.

  “She has a nice face, and we have the same eyes,” she commented, surprised at her reaction to the stranger in the photo.

  Ann sat next to her and told the long and involved story of Neilan and Bayan. Of the different worlds they had come from, and how much they had loved each other, in spite of the opposition mounted against them. She told how Neilan’s letters had never been opened until just this last year, explaining why her grandmother didn’t know of his marriage, let alone of her granddaughter’s existence until then. And when she did, how she had done everything she could to find her.

  “She just wants to know you, Jamila, and to have the opportunity to provide a happy home for you. She’s a very kind and loving person and I know she’d never want to hurt you.”

  “Then why won’t she let me stay here? I don’t want to leave. This is my home,” she said, tears starting to fall.

  “The mother superior, your grandmother and I have talked about that. We all want you to be happy, but your grandfather won’t allow it.”

  “My grandfather? He doesn’t wish me to be happy? But, I thought my grandmother lived alone. Does he live with her in America too?”

  “No. Your mother’s father, Sheikh Haddad,” Ann told the girl. “Mrs. Drummond’s husband has been dead for many years now.”

  Jamila was shocked. “Sheikh Abdul Basir Haddad is my grandfather?” she asked, astounded.

  A
nn nodded her head yes.

  “I’ve only known him as my benefactor. Are you sure he’s my grandfather?”

  “Yes, Jamila, we’re very sure. He’s the one who told us where you were and allowed us to talk with you. He will not tell us what has happened to your mother, and I believe he has been the one keeping you two apart. And now it seems he wants us to take you to America.”

  “My grandfather… and my mother was kept from me? Do you think she really wanted me?” Jamila probed.

  “Of course, I do. She had to go home, when your father died, and I believe you were taken from her and placed here, though the Sheikh must care for you some, because he has provided for you as much as a Muslim man can for an outsider.”

  “I never knew. I thought I wasn’t wanted. Now to know my mother may have loved me - might even still. I begin to understand a little, now, I guess. I vaguely remember a happy childhood, before I came here, but I’ve never understood why I was always left alone. Now, you tell me my father and mother loved me. And they were happy until his death. How sad it is to be separated from your family because of religion, and culture,” Jamila spoke sensibly.

  “You’re so wise. I’m sorry you have to leave here, but I hope we can make the best of the situation given to us, Jamila,” Ann explained.

  “Please… I can face all of it, except leaving my friend. She means so much to me. It’s breaking my heart!” she said weeping again, quietly.

  “Jamila, I promise we’ll do as much as we can to keep you two in touch. We may even be able to bring you back here for a visit once in a while, if the mother superior will allow it.”

  Jamila’s eyes brightened for the first time. Though she would have preferred staying, just the hope of seeing Meridah again in the future eased her pain.

  “Thank you, Miss Ann,” she said gently. “Do you think my grandmother will allow it?”

  “Yes. I do. Because I know your grandmother wants you to be happy. I don’t know how much time she has left on this earth, for she’s ill. It’s her heart, but I pray God will give you all the time you need to know that you are loved and wanted by her, Jamila,” Ann informed her.

  “She’s ill?” Jamila asked, crushed at the idea of another person in her life disappearing, before she was ready for it.

  “Yes, but she could have many more years left, if she doesn’t get too excited and takes care of herself. Just the thought of you has made a lot of difference to her. She’s looking forward to meeting you and can hardly wait for you to come.”

  Jamila smiled and sat thinking for a little, then said, “I’m looking forward to meeting her too,” and for the first time, she meant it.

  After school, Meridah found Ann and Jamila in the gardens. Ann looked up to see a beautiful child of about eleven, walking toward them. Her eyes were large, soft and chocolate brown, in a sweet face, with delicate cheek bones. Her head was covered with a Hijab, the traditional scarf of the Arabian woman of Jordan. It was made of bright red silk, wrapped around her face and head, gently flowing over her shoulders, in soft waves in the front of her.

  Jamila jumped up and they hugged, with Meridah’s head buried in her shoulder. The two spoke in Arabic for a short time, then Jamila turn and introduced Ann to Meridah.

  “This is my friend from America, Miss Ann,” Jamila said in English.

  “Friend!” Meridah said hurtfully.

  “Yes,” Jamila said softly, “my friend. She’s going to help me see you as often as we can, and they’ll allow me to write you every day. Miss Ann, this is my very best friend in the entire world, Meridah.”

  “How do you do, Meridah. I want you to know it breaks my heart to take Jamila away. Her grandmother and I didn’t intend to take her without her permission, but her benefactor has determined she must go. It seems we’ve no choice, now,” Ann said sadly. “I promise to help you two stay in touch, share letters, photographs and make trips across the world to see each other, as often as I can. Do you think your family would allow you to visit America, someday?”

  Meridah looked surprised. “Leave here? I don’t know. I could ask my mother in my next letter. Do you think I could really come and see Jamila in America?”

  “I hope so. I hope it’ll be possible to see you often,” Ann said sincerely.

  The girls were still sad. Their parting would be hard, and a lot of things might occur to keep them apart. War was frequent in this part of the world, the tensions between nations high, while cultural difference, sickness, or death might intervene… only God knew. But Ann was determined to help, if she could.

 

  Home Coming