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Leap of
Faith: Memoirs of an Unexpected Life by Queen Noor Rating: •••• (Highly Recommended) |
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Personal Queen Noor’s memoir, Leap of
Faith: Memoirs of an Unexpected Life, is the finest memoir I’ve read in a
long time. She weaves her poignant personal story with the politics of the
Middle East and life in Jordan in ways that are powerful and personal. Noor
reveals her personality and that of her late husband, King Hussein, in
anecdotes and reminiscences that describe the universality of personal,
loving relationships, and the struggles of everyday life in a family. Here’s
an excerpt (pp. 114-15) about her wedding and that describes the book’s title: With great effort I concentrated on repeating the
simple marriage vows that I had been practicing in Arabic. Looking at the
King, I said, "I have betrothed myself to thee in marriage for the dowry
agreed upon." He replied, "I have accepted thee as wife, my wife in
marriage for the dowry agreed upon." We sealed our vows by clasping our
right hands and looking at each other. No rings were exchanged. The sheikh
conducting the ceremony recited verses from the Quran; then we walked into an
adjoining room, where we were joined by our families and guests shouting, "Mabrouk,
congratulations!" Abir, Haya, and Ali were the first to embrace us. Looking now at the pictures of us that appeared on
the front page of newspapers around the world, I see a young woman flushed
with optimism and hope, smiling with all her heart at a handsome bearded man
who is responding in kind. The rest of my wedding day is a jumble of memory
fragments: our struggle to cut the wedding cake—no one had pointed out that the
bottom layer was cardboard; our impatience to leave the reception to be
alone; and our walk to the front courtyard of the Palace, where we adroitly
avoided the elaborately decorated Excalibur to leap into Hussein’s car and
escape to the airport for our precious refuge in Aqaba. I
invited all eight children to join us in Aqaba for the few days we were there
before leaving for our honeymoon in Scotland. I wanted them to feel part of
our new life together as soon as possible. I knew it would not be easy. Three
mothers were involved. Some of Hussein’s older children were fully grown
adults, and the youngest, Ali, was only two. But all the children adored
their father, and with this common denominator I had every hope we might
succeed in creating a loving, secure, nurturing family spirit. Our brief Aqaba idyll was great fun as far as I was
concerned. In spite of the differences in their ages, the children seemed to
enjoy one another’s company tremendously. There was a lot of laughter,
teasing, and games. No doubt they were all checking me out, but I felt
very easy and at home in their midst. It
had been on our first night in Aqaba, when my new husband and I were watching
the news on television, that I heard the announcement that he was giving me
the tide of Queen. I do not know why he had not told me himself. Perhaps he
wanted to surprise me. I was the only person, it seems, in Jordan and the
Western world who was not fixated on what title I would have. The newspapers
had been filled with conjecture ever since our engagement had been announced.
There had also been concerns that, as an American, I might not be accepted in
the region, but there was no Arab outcry, as far as I knew, about our
marriage, nor any I was aware of from Jordanians. As a Halaby, I was considered
an Arab returning home rather than a foreigner. Our departure for our honeymoon in Scotland was
further delayed by graduation day at Jordan University. My husband always
handed out the diplomas to all the graduating students, so two days after our
marriage we returned to Amman for what would be our first public event. I was
quite nervous, not knowing what to expect. There was tremendous excitement
when we arrived at the university and great warmth in the way we were
received. I knew that the outpouring of affection for me, including the
photos of me throughout the city and on cars and buses, was in fact for
Hussein, and I was very touched by it—but also conscious that I should not
take that affection as an entitlement: I had to earn it in my own right. One
contribution I did make was simply instinctive. I had become so conscious of
the issue of the Kings security that every time we went out in public,
beginning with the graduation at Jordan University, I would try to subtly position myself to protect him in
relation to the crowds. Our children would do the same in later years, but at
the beginning of our marriage I reflexively found myself contributing to his
front line of protection. As Hussein and I prepared to leave for Scotland, I was
filled with a sense of happiness and calm. I felt life had no boundaries,
that every dream and goal was possible. I had committed my life to my husband
and to Jordan, with all its demands and responsibilities, its frustrations
and setbacks, its victories and disappointments. I had taken a leap of faith,
and faith has rewarded me. One of my favorite stories of family life
came in this excerpt (pp. 224-6): The
children missed Battal, and Iman asked for a dog for her birthday. Soon
after, I brought home a smaller, ostensibly more manageable dog—a beagle from
England. This dogs story (which has a happy ending) includes one frightening
chapter: I inadvertently ran over her one day when she ran between the front
and rear wheels of my moving car. I felt my left rear tire hit a bump and
heard someone screaming her name. I got out of the car, and there she was on
the ground, looking quite flattened. I knelt down to comfort her, certain
that she was drawing her last breath, when lo and behold she slowly began to
reinflate. It reminded me of the cartoons I would watch as a child, in which Daffy
Duck would be run over by a steamroller and then pop back up. It turned out
that our dog had suffered only a fractured hip protected from worse harm
because she was so rotund. My sister, who had dogs and no children at
that point, was furious when she learned of the beagle’s near demise. Alexa
had decided long ago that we were unfit to have animals, and by the time I
finished telling her the story she was convinced the dog would not survive
another minute in our house. "You
send that dog over to me right away," she said, and so the beagle has
lived with her ever since. And ever since then I have been mercilessly teased
for my canine-cidal tendencies. At least the dogs we were being given were getting smaller. The last one was a ten-week-old Chihuahua, a gift from the former President of Mexico that my husband never warmed to. I eventually gave the dog to our German house manager, who had an apartment in Amman, and the tiny animal caused quite a stir on the streets. Dogs are nowhere near as common in Arab countries as they are in the West, and when Liesa took the Chihuahua, Senor Toki Ramirez, for walks, some people actually ran away in fright and drivers braked to a halt and called out, "What is that?" My
husband loved rescuing our runaway animals and all the general chaos of
family life. He was a great tease and I was a favorite target. He never tired
of telling the story of a time early in our marriage during a weekend in
Aqaba when I asked Manal Jazi, our Jordanian nanny, if she could find my
camera. Manal was gone for the longest time and having misheard me finally
returned with a camel. My husband laughed uproariously, and the children,
utterly delighted, spent the rest of the afternoon taking camel rides. Hussein
personally supported the expenses of our home and of the extended royal
family through financial resources he was given from within the Arab and
Muslim world. He had a basic allowance from the government that had not
changed in all his years as King, and neither of us took any personal money
from the Jordanian government. In a crunch, he would sell his assets in order
to cover Royal Court bills, which were largely devoted to health and
education assistance or to support institutions in need. Support from Arab and Muslim leaders who valued his
stabilizing role within the region was critical in enabling the King to carry
out his leadership responsibilities in Jordan, as well as his advocacy
efforts for the region as a whole. (Jordan was also reciprocating by
contributing to the development of these countries through its expertise and
manpower in areas such as education, health, medical research, and military
training and security.) However, support from the outside could not always
be counted on. My husband handled his own finances in an openhanded, spontaneous way, based on his faith that God would provide. He believed that if he was a faithful Muslim who focused more on the needs of others than on his own, God would enable him to continue his good works. This was not an MBA’s approach to finance, but it could not have been. It was an ethical and humane balance that Hussein struck within the context of an environment that did not function like the West, that was constantly fluid and uncertain and sometimes prone to extremes. The King would never turn away from someone in need. Whatever your level of understanding on issues in the Middle East,
that knowledge will expand after you read Leap of
Faith. Everything you expect to learn about humanity from a memoir, you’ll
find on the pages of Leap of
Faith. If there’s only one memoir you choose to read this year, make it Leap of
Faith. Steve Hopkins, July 25, 2003 |
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ã 2003 Hopkins and Company, LLC The
recommendation rating for this book appeared in the August 2003
issue of Executive
Times URL
for this review: http://www.hopkinsandcompany.com/Books/Leap
of Faith.htm For
Reprint Permission, Contact: Hopkins
& Company, LLC • 723 North Kenilworth Avenue • Oak Park, IL 60302 E-mail: books@hopkinsandcompany.com |
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