ASIR, 13 June 2004 — I have a lively sense of the honor of being a Muslim and being led by the king, and I am particularly honored to serve Asir, a region that I fell in love with at first sight.
Some may think that this emotional connection between Asir and me stems from its breathtaking nature and climate. But the truth is that my love is above all for the region’s people — their honor, their creativity, and their distinctive love of life.
These people are famous for their originality no less than their courage and generosity — they are blessed with a beautiful spirit. Their hospitality, their broad smiles, their poetry and native dances for all occasions bespeak a race of people dedicated to the joy of life.
When I used to drive my car along the dirt roads in the Asir mountains, I was many times stopped in my tracks by the breathtaking scenery. But equally I was moved by seeing the Asiri families — man, woman, and child — working as one in the fields. Family relations here are based on safety, integrity and nobility. Their clothes were colorful, white, red and green amid the wheat and golden barley.
Asiris are full of fun and optimism even when they come to me at the municipality to complain or demand new projects. And always, they begin the discussion with beautiful tales — tales about fathers and grandfathers who took part in the struggles of King Abdul Aziz to establish this structure and build this state.
They are proud of the past and hopeful about the future. When they ask for a new project, they ask in a spirit of optimism, not to reproach because it isn’t there. They make you feel a sense of partnership in building the future, rather than pushing you away with accusations about the shortcomings of the present. What happened to them? How did their brightness leave them? Who made the smiles disappear from their faces and drew curtains of misery across them? Who scared the children away from laughter, play and joy? Who scared the adults from life? Who killed happiness and spread sorrow? Who convinced our sons and daughters to call their fathers and mothers infidel?
Who teaches children in orphanages that Saudi Arabia is not their home, that their only home is Islam? That their future vocation is jihad? That watching Saudi television or listening to music is forbidden? Who transformed schools and universities into military camps for jihadists? Who transformed our summer camps into weapon training grounds? Who convinced Saudi youth that the surest path to Heaven is to blow themselves up and take citizens, foreign residents and security officers with them? Who did this to us?
I think we all know who is responsible for all this. A look at the books, pamphlets and tapes that have been distributed by the thousands in the schools, universities, mosques and charities over the past 20 years, we will see their names clearly legible in black and white. The websites reveal the rest.
The important question now is: Who can change this new painful reality? Who can return to us the minds of our sons and daughters that these demagogues have stolen? The answer is that all of society is responsible, from the state and our senior-most scholars to every individual citizen, but above all teachers and academics, imams and khateebs and Islamic missionaries.
To all of them, in the name of every decent citizen who loves his home and religion I say: Please, please give back the smile, the brightness, the life to our sons and daughters and our home. Thank you.
— Prince Khaled Al-Faisal is governor of the Asir region.
