Qabihah Says No One Would Marry The Lady of the Oleander

Dear Readers,

Once my first suitor died, my father attended the funeral. Then within the month, he introduced me to still another suitor. My father had the idea that I should marry men his age who were either widowers or already had multiple wives. He did not care how I felt about the situation. He cared only that he made proper alliances with his business associates, for he had made a fortune in the spice trade from the coast of Arabia Felix.

My second suitor was even worse than the first. He was a sadist who expected his wives to wait on him hand and foot. I was to be the lowest in rank. I had heard about his eldest wife. She would beat me brutally. In addition, he expected me to bow down to him when we met. I was mortally offended.

So I took the only action open to me, the only action that allowed me to be myself, Qabihah. I fed his horse when he was dining with us, knowing that on his way home he would have to pass through one of the most unsavoury sections of Old Cairo in the days before the British cleaned things up before the turn of the last century.

The next day my father was distraught at the dinner table, reporting to us that his best friend was dead. It must have been an evil Ginn. For his horse suddenly dropped dead in the worst section of town. Then he was set upon by thieves, robbed, and killed as he tried to defend himself.

I, Qabihah, kept my freedom. People began to gossip that there was an evil fate associated with me, and they became wary and spooked. One old woman on a street corner whispered aloud as I passed in my litter, "She is the Woman of the Oleander."

Sincerely yours,

Qabihah, Witch of Cairo
P.S. You can read about my later exploits in Dora, Lady Ware's, memoirs entitled, Hitler's Daughter.