We pulled up just as the sum was about to set. Sulieman had his right hand laid on a big rock - there was a crowd of about thirty people (all family, as it turned out). Sulieman was crying - but no one was holding him - he was, indeed, a dutiful son - CPS hadn’t penetrated here. His dad had a fancy, shining sword, holding it with both hands, and seemed fixing to bring it down and sever Sulieman’s right hand. Kareem jumped out of the van before we even got stopped, ran like a bolt of lightning, fell on the ground, as he’d promised, and physically laid his neck on top of Sulieman’s wrist, so they couldn’t cut off Sulieman’s wrist without first cutting off his head. He’d made a point to fall on his back, so the medallion was clearly visible - and the instant Achbar - Sulieman’s dad, - saw it, he dropped the sword and fell on his knees, saying in Arabic, “Long live His Royal Highness, Crown Prince Kareem! Long live His Majesty, the Sultan!” Kareem stood, said a few words in Arabic, and Achbar bowed his head and replied. Then Kareem made the speech, using the plural “we” to describe.
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