A Trip Abroad

Insert4

Sydney Renea Mkhize

*Shy*

.

**FLASHBACK**

Khira was a beautiful young woman. She was a Princess, and that's not me being sweet. She was an actual Saudi princess with royal blood running through her veins. She was smart too, and was interested in science and literature. I used to call her an artsy scientist. She had a crazy sense of humour and admiration for her people. It's a shame that her people couldn't take her as original as she was.

My father was dealing with Oil in the Middle East. That's where he met Khira's father who is the King. They became good friends and business partners. That relationship earned me a job as an English Tutor to the royal family. I then moved to Saudi at 21, for six months things went really well. I struggled at first with their prayer times and the never-ending heat of the desert but I grew to like it and enjoy it. I was treated like a Princess too. Like an important person, I was a tutor to the royal children and the wives. Technically, the wives were not allowed but they worked around it anyway because at the end of the day; they needed to help the kids with homework. So the royal heads went with it. I mean, it made sense.

People in the west like to think of Saudi as a hell-hole. I mean, a lot is wrong with the kingdom, that's undeniable, the male dominance is sickening. However, the people there are one of the most welcoming groups of people I've ever met in my travels. I grew to enjoy it because even with the crazy laws, people still thrived, enjoyed their lives and were happy. Some I've met don't even think of ever leaving the country. That's the beauty of travelling and meeting the natives. You get to hear stories they never tell in the media.

As the months went on, one of the teacher's contracts ended and because I had been with them for some time, they entrusted me with the position. And it came with a pay increment, so, of course I took it.

During the school holidays, Zakhira returned home. She had been studying in the UK and was home because she had graduated. There were obviously days-long celebrations and festivities to welcome the princess back home to marry and have children now that the 'school nonsense' as her father would say, was over. She wasn't quite thrilled with this idea but she smiled and agreed to honour her father's wishes regardless.

During the time of searching for her prince charming, the palace thought it was a great idea that she helps me with the classes. She could translate some things to the children for better communication teaching. She could also share some of what she had learnt in the UK — importance of experience.

We worked closely together. We spent so much time being girl bestfriends that, by the time they mentioned a potential husband had been found; we realised we had fallen in love. And we had fallen for each other deeply.

I've been attracted to women. I knew that about myself and I had an interest in men too — bisexual. But Khira... She had no interest in men or whatsoever. She was a lesbian — raging homosexual and she had had girlfriends in her stay at Oxford.

We were in love in a country that was against Queer relationships. Khira and I were committing an awful crime punishable by death — haram.

We were risking everything by being together. We were loving each other in the dark. We held hands in public because we believed no one would really suspect a thing.

I couldn't fix her hijab and steal a kiss. I couldn't kiss her in public nor look at her with eyes full of admiration. I was loving her in the dark and it was painful yet worth hiding because when I laid her down on my bed at night, under the cool air from the fan on the ceiling of my bedroom, Khira and I shared pure love. I took off her clothing and made love to each and every part of her body. Purely, sincerely. When she moaned sweetly—careful to not be loud, it was just her and I sharing something words cannot explain.

When she exploded as my fingers were inside her, feeling her tiny body tremble from the orgasm. It confirmed our love, it confirmed that what we had was valid. And as much as it was haram, it was love to us.

When our lips melted into each other when we kissed and tasted the saltiness of our tears as we had to stop because the sun was rising again. Khira and I knew that it was worth hiding. It was worth having to tap her 3 times in public as a code for "I love you".

But, as the saying goes: what happens in the dark will eventually come to light. Khira and I were found lying in each other's arms intimately with no clothes on. We had fallen asleep and forgot to lock the door. That was the worst day of my life, I prayed a million times as she and I got separated and she paid the price for our love. I was an outsider, the king had made a promise to my father that I would be safe in the palace.

So, Khira suffered the pain. I remember crying until I felt like my heart was swimming in blood. There was nothing I could do, I was isolated from the rest of the people as they were fixing my emergency travel plans. Because they couldn't punish me like Khira; I was to leave the palace immediately and never return there. I am banned from ever setting my foot in there again. Early the next morning, Khira's mother came to me crying. She knew Khira loved women and she was willing to help her escape the Palace and leave for America. But Khira denied that offer, she loved her family and her people so much that she didn't think it was possible for them to turn against her after finding out she loved women and not men. She loved me too. Which meant she was stuck between a rock and a hard place.

They were going to stone her to death at sunrise. Khira's mom mentioned she couldn't handle that pain. She asked me to do something for her. To help her daughter walk into death without feeling pain.

I walked into the empty room they kept her in. Her face looked like she had accepted her fate. She had bruises all over from the beating and intense torturing. The body I had made love to was bruised — almost unrecognisable. But Khira still looked at me with a smile, she still kept her hijab and hugged me tight as her mom guarded the entrance. I held Khira in my arms. I wrapped them around her and cried. She begged me not to cry, she asked me to love her one last time and help her passover without feeling anymore pain.

I did. I gave her the injection her mom had slipped in. It was a lethal drug that would have her die within the next 3 minutes without any pain that could match being stoned. I kissed her one last time. I told her I love her. She told me maybe in the next lifetime people will be understanding.

"Maybe. Just maybe when we meet again Syd, society will be welcoming of people like you and I. Maybe they will be welcoming to the idea of a lesbian Muslim. Don't be sad now my love, the time we shared was precious. The memories we made were beautiful and I could not have spent the last seconds of my life any better. I am in your arms. I love you. Go live without me. You loved me and this is where our story ends."

She gave me the weakest smile. The lethal drug was already spreading. She tapped me three times before she pulled her last breath and her body let go in my arms.

I fought with myself to not let out a wailing sound, her mom signalled that they were coming. I kissed her cheeks and laid her back down for the last time before walking out and her mom pushing me up the back stairwell and closing the door shut.

The noise the men made was deafening. I consoled a mother who had lost her child. She hugged me.

I blamed myself. But she didn't take that.

"Khira would've fallen in love with a woman anyway. It just happened that it was you who made her smile and have bright days. I knew she was with a woman but she didn't tell me who. It was you all along, Sydney." She said to me as she walked me back to my place of holding and handing me some of Khira's pictures and her favourite necklace. The rest of her stuff was burnt.

I was sent back home later that day. I cried all the way through. I wasn't okay for years, I couldn't get over Khira, I missed her terribly. I kept wondering what if we had really left Saudi for the U.S? Would we have had a chance then? I had so many questions. Questions that had no answers.

Love hurt me in the worst possible way. I then moved to South Africa hoping to start a new life. And I did, I met Richard at the university in Cape Town before we moved to EastBay. He is my best friend and I did love him eventually. I learnt to love him. He offered a sense of security and comfort.

But what I can never escape is being in grief of her for years, unable to move on. Missing her every year and thinking of how I'll never meet another person who would soothe my heart and I would love like I did Khira.

But the twist is, I did find her. A beautiful lady in her mid 20s who happens to be my own student. I did find someone after Zakhira whose heart I hold and at night when she's lying next to me I fight the urge to make love to her because I want our first time together to mean something. I want us to wait until we're so far from worries and not having to explain where we were the day before. Lisa is as special as Khira was, even more.

The phone call complicates a lot for me. And I'm not even sure that it is her for real or someone is pulling a dirty prank.

But that voice. I wouldn't miss the voice I longed to hear. I wouldn't miss the softness of it as she called me “meala” bcz that's the only Irish word she learnt.