We didn’t speak, each of us lost in our own thoughts. It reminded me of a prime time cartoon I had seen once, chuckling to myself, I said it ‘Yup....�� I held up my beer waiting for a toast. He clinked his plastic ice tea glass against the bottle, replying ‘Yup’. We giggled at our wit. We watched the sun say its final goodbye and saw the first of the night stars peeking out from beneath the hazy curtain. The beer was cold and having its desired effect. I started to relax, the troubles of the day. My husband's harem women wore only skirts made of inch wide strips of chiffon hanging about twelve inches from a waistband; my brother-in-law's tastes, I am told, ran to totally sheer smocks. This is the dress my father-in-law favoured and the Emir is thinking of changing to silk shortie dressing-gowns. It is all done to emphasise the sexual availability of the women." But don't the women object to being purely sex objects?" Nobody asks them about that, and if they were to complain they would. More

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