By: Minister of State, Acting President Anwar Al‑Sadat
We had just completed the rites of pilgrimage. The royal caravan of King Saud was leading the return from Mecca to Jeddah after he had performed the sacred duty alongside the Muslims. Suddenly, the King’s procession halted, clearing the road so that the people could continue their way.
When our turn came to pass the point where the royal caravan had stopped, I saw King Saud sitting on the sand with his entourage—not as a king, but as an ordinary Muslim. All of them were performing the Maghrib prayer, their foreheads pressed against the sand, without ceremony or formality. Saud was among them, a Muslim fulfilling his duty.
I said to myself: This is not the way of kings… it is the way of the early Commanders of the Faithful, who stripped themselves before God, before religion, and before the people.
King Saud followed this path every day—a path devoid of the trappings that kings usually adopt, a path drawn from the essence of Islamic nature, perhaps even an extension of the era of the Rightly Guided Caliphs.
The King’s day begins with the remembrance of God and the performance of the dawn prayer. He then devotes himself to the affairs of his people—not in the royal palace, but in a modest Arab majlis in the heart of Riyadh, where people come to sit with Saud not as a king, but as a guardian, a father, and a brother. They speak to him in the manner they choose, following the Arab traditions that have prevailed since the dawn of Islam—simplicity, freedom, and mutual trust between ruler and ruled, without burden or formality.
When the call to the noon prayer is heard, Saud rises with those around him to perform it. He then returns to his palace for lunch and a brief rest, after which he rises for the afternoon prayer. As soon as he completes it, he heads to Al‑Murabba‘.
Al‑Murabba‘ is the palace of the late King Abdulaziz. In it, one feels the heroism of Abdulaziz and his glory, despite the simplicity of its structure and construction.
I had arrived in Riyadh after noon and was invited to meet the King. The appointment was set for after the afternoon prayer. When I entered upon Saud in Al‑Murabba‘ Palace, he was—as always—smiling, welcoming, embodying the essence of Arab generosity.
He seated me beside him, and I immediately began presenting my report on my mission regarding the Islamic Conference. To my surprise, I saw that his attention had shifted to something else: a religious lecture being delivered by one of the scholars of Najd, citing verses of the Qur’an and Hadith about the duties of rulers toward their subjects.
I had no choice but to listen until the lecture ended. Then King Saud turned to me with warmth and said:
“This was the tradition of King Abdulaziz. At this very hour every day, he would sit in this majlis to listen to words of religion, truth, and goodness.”
Those present at the lecture were a large gathering of tribesmen who had come to Riyadh.
Another tradition follows: those who come to Riyadh and attend this daily gathering with the King to listen to the words of God dine at the King’s table, for they are his guests as long as they remain in the capital.
Thus, when the call to the Maghrib prayer is heard and the King completes it, everyone proceeds to the dinner table—regardless of their status. After the meal, the King returns directly to his palace to sleep until a new dawn rises, when he again fulfills the rights of his Lord and the rights of the people.
Saud treats his subjects as a Muslim—without display, affectation, or formality. His nature in this regard is, as I have said, the nature of the early Commanders of the Faithful, who devoted themselves to God and worshipped Him sincerely, upheld the rites of religion, and fulfilled the rights and duties owed to the people.