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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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