Those Who Have Not Sinned - Cast the First Stone

Rumours started to circulate about a stoning in Chop-Chop Square. An unmarried girl was accused of premarital sex, and her sentence was death. Everyone was talking about this. It was thick in the air. She would be brought out in a bag, so that she could not see anything, and all the men would throw stones at her, starting with small ones, until she died.

Friday, the Muslim holy day, arrived. The call for prayer came at noon, and then it was as if Riyadh stopped breathing. Every woman knew that after prayer, this girl would be executed. I sat in my flat, my heart pounding, as I sensed her fear and torture. I sent her love and angels, and prayed for her to lose consciousness immediately.

I had always enjoyed the lament of the call to prayer; it always felt mystical. But on that Friday, I hated it. I thought of men cleansing themselves before entering the mosque, leaving their women and babies wherever, regardless of the heat, and then walking into the square to cheer, as they stoned to death an innocent soul.

Out of all the executions that took place throughout my time in Saudi, this day was the worst. It was all but unbearable to know that fathers were allowed to do honour killings: they could kill their daughters or wives if they even just suspected some misdeed. Stories abounded about girls being drowned by their fathers, girls being put into a locked room to starve and go crazy, and maids being raped. Even outside the hospital, there were Saudi women begging, forced to sit on the ground and ask for money, while the men walked by and ignored them. These women had been beaten and kicked out for offences mustered up by crazy husbands, and now, their families refused to take them back.

I had always felt in my heart that if I could touch one woman, my time there would be blessed. Touching me still didn't quite register in my consciousness.