Margaret Trudeau on Queen Alia
We've seen the lovely photos. Here are some impressions of QA, the person:
From Mrs. Trudeau:
I met her and KH for the first time when they came to Ottawa for an official visit, immediately after the 1974 elections. We took to each other at once. Alia was magnificent to look at: a mass of striking blond hair, green eyes, an irresistable smile. She arrived when I was at my lowest ebb. Within hours, she had taken me in hand, forced me to laugh about our lives, poked fun at my fears.
There was no formality between us: despite her being a Palestinian born on the West Bank, and me a politician's daughter from Vancouver; we were just two girls, sitting and giggling in her bedroom, me in jeans, she in her invariably magnificent clothes, with trunks of silk lingerie and boxes of priceless jewels scattered about the floor. She understood completely what I was talking about and comforted me: "You're lucky, don't you understand," she kept repeating. "Pierre will eventually leave politics and you'll be free. Mine is a life sentence."
More soberly, she wrote me on Oct. 17, 1974:
"I finally received your letter, as I was reading it I felt I was talking to myself.....It's not easy to find friends in our positions--if we raged and screamed everybody would think we were absolutely crazy but yet I say only people who have feelings and love in them go through this.....Don't overload your husband. Try to control yourself and when he is away, rage, break, scream and cry and get everything out. That is what I have learned to do and it has helped me and my husband.....I am scared to death too because I am afraid for his life. I have never felt so insecure as I do now because of the assasination attempts he has escaped. I only pray to God everything works out."
The fact I knew she was having a much harder time than I was and yet survived and kept smiling was comforting. When we went to Amman in June 1976, I found her just as exuberant but a little worried. Her extravagance and high spirits were beginning to make her enemies in Jordan and she was now frightened a monument she had planned to put up for her daughter, Haya, in the shape of a community center was getting unstuck. She had, she admitted, been rather haughty and gone ahead, sending in bulldozers. The mayor was furious and determined to put a stop to it. Alia was decidedly anxious: "I know I have produced a Crown Prince and that is something," she said to me doubtfully, "but Hussein will be so angry."
We talked, gossiped and comforted each other. We made plans to share a little London house where we could escape to holiday. She had a fantasy we would join the european jet set and decorate our Chelsea home with all the taste she complained was lacking in her modern Amman palace. She wanted to buy Georgian furniture. She was quick, she was sharp, she was witty. She made me laugh with stories of her children: She had just heard 3 year old Haya say graciously to the elder child she and KH had adopted "I am a Princess." Abir sat silent for a moment, then responded: "I am the Queen Mother." She was enormously empathetic--almost telepathically so. On my worst days, the phone would ring and invariably her voice would be on the other end...."Margaret, how ARE you?"