|
Hajj
& Rebirth of My Soul |
By
Jeewan Chanicka
I
have returned home and I sit now to put the rest of this journal
together. Physically I am here, but my heart is very far away. I
look for the simple beauty that surrounds us that is sometimes
drowned out by the noise, the pollution, anger, the hatred, by war
and those who would have us believe that they are acting with the
goodwill of humanity in mind.
How
far away have we come, when we forget the lives of those who we do
not see on TV each day, when the lives of some are of more
importance than others, when we are so consumed by materialism and
materialistic needs that the universal truths of justice, peace,
love, respect are ignored. As those with military might show their
will, Hajj has been a good reminder of the power of prayer and the
power of the masses of humanity, when we leave our capitalistic
trappings, our chauvinistic claims to power and might, our feelings
of superiority and pride.
Perhaps
the next superpower will not be that of military might and power,
but of the masses who stand for truth, justice, love, dignity,
respect, and tolerance. It has already been happening, millions of
people around the world, standing up and speaking out against the
atrocities of occupation and war.
When
we feel no one is listening, or feel that there is no hope, we must
never allow ourselves to forget that the One Who listens, the
Divine Presence is ever near and always ready to answer the calls
of those who ask. With this, there is always hope and we will never
allow our spirits to be broken.
`Umrah
– Before Hajj
I
arrived at the airport in Jeddah, it was surreal. You look outside
and it feels like you are in a star trek movie. It seems like
something of the future, tents almost conical and about a hundred
feet high, (sorry forgot the metres) with holes in the middle for
ventilation. After a couple hours of waiting, the Canadian
delegation leaves to Mecca. We are guests of the king
( oops did I forgot to mention that to you all) so we have
transportation arranged for us. The cool thing with hajj is that it
does not matter if you are guest of the king or not you are not
treated too differently (at least this was my experience) from the
other pilgrims. Here status is not an issue. I would later find out
that we are staying in the same building with the former president
of Gambia. He blends in with the rest of us. Unless I read an
article, I would not have known who he was.
We
are on our way to the K’aba, the holiest site for Muslims around
the world. All Muslims face the direction of the k’aba when they
pray. We wade through thousands of people sitting in the streets,
content and waiting to pray to their Lord. As we wade through, the
call to prayer is made:
God
is Greatest
God
is the Greatest
God
is the Greatest
God
is the Greatest
There
is no God but God
There
is no God but God
Muhammad
is the messenger of God
Muhammad
is the messenger of God
Come
to prayer, come to prayer
Come
to success, come to success
God
is the greatest, God is the greatest
There
is no god but God
The
crowd comes to a standstill, we cannot move, the doors to enter
into the sacred precincts are so close but so far away. We must
pray in the street. The crowd stands to pray- men and women all
together obeying the call to remembrance. There are so many people
that there is no room to bow in prostration so we literally have to
pray on each other backs, there is no problem because of this we
consider it to be a privilege..
I
walk into the precincts, my heart swells inside, the questions that
have pushed me through life are at the forefront, who am I? What is
the purpose of my life? Will I be ready to die knowing that I did
my best in life ? I see the k’aba, no words can describe, the
sense of awe, there it was, the first house of worship, built by
Adam and later by Abraham and his son Ishmael.
Tears
well in my eyes, Thank You God for bringing me as your guest; Thank
You for Your invitation. I came here to seek Your bounty and favor.
As the tears pour forth, I pray Lord, "answer all my prayers
that I make here".
Our
group, is in the crowd, circling the k’aba, like the orbit of
planets around the sun. I am amazed at how people are careful of
each other, and trying hard to protect each other. I had heard
stories of pushing etc but it is not about people being violent, it
is a natural consequence of the thousands of people there at the
same time. Some try to stay in their groups and move around, others
may be trying to leave as they have completed their requirements
and are moving to the next steps.
As
I walk, in awe, overwhelmed, praying for myself, family, friends
and peace in the world. I
feel an arm latch on to me. As I look it is an older man, walking
in his group, in need of support. I don't know him, he does not
know me, but he knows that he can count on his "son" to
support him. I am happy that he knows this and I continue with my
prayer and he continues with his..
We
have completed the seven circuits and must now move to the Maqam
Ibrahim (station of Abraham) and pray there after which we go to
the well of Zam Zam. It is believed to have been a miracle of God,
given to Hagar the wife of Abraham and Ishmael as they were in the
desert and she was searching for water for her baby. An angel came
and struck the ground at the baby's (Ishmael) foot and the spring
gushed forth. That spring has fed the pilgrims for
the past 1423 years and each year millions come and are fed from
it. We next move to do the last component II Sai II which is where
we walk between two hills Safa and Marwa seven times to imitate
Hagar's search for water for her baby. We then proceed to get our
hair trimmed. I cannot help but to cry, in gratitude for this
amazing opportunity, being here, the holiest place for me is like
coming home. I feel at peace, despite the hundreds of thousands of
people, the United Nations here, the hum of pilgrims in continuous
worship, I am at home here.
We
have completed the first part of hajj and must now wait for the 8th
of the lunar month when we will again get dressed in two pieces of
unsewn cloth and slippers. During that time we will not be able to
cut our hair and nails until we have completed the final rituals. I
am drained emotionally but feel charged all at once. I could not
believe that all this has happened, out of the blue, no plans and
it all came together just like that. I am thankful, after
the past six months of my life I feel that I really need it. I
think of my beautiful wife and sons and pray some more. Other than
being here, they are the next people on my mind.
Up
7th
Dhul-Hijjah (Month of Islamic Lunar calendar in which hajj is
celebrated)
We
must begin to prepare ourselves as Hajj begins tomorrow. I have
been asked to be interviewed for several radio, TV and print media.
This morning, I go walking with my friends from Montreal and one
who attends McMaster. We go for a walk near to a one of the king's
palaces. We come to a restricted road and I advise my friends not
to proceed. But one of us decides to ask the guards if it is ok. He
asks in English, I translate. At first they say No it is
prohibited, then they allow us to walk through, as long as we go
straight through and not hang around. It turns out that it is a
public road from the other side. We walk through, I notice that my
throat is starting to feel strange. I have to go to the doctors, I
think. When I get throat infections they can get quite bad. I don't
even care if l have to take antibiotics. I never want them at home.
I wish I had my Apple Cider vinegar with me. I don't want to get
sick, not now, not before hajj. Allah (God) knows best. We return
to the building, I head to the doctor. He tells me, to stop using
the air condition and no cold beverages. He gives me some
antihistamines/decongestants and some vitamin C. I take it right
away. I would spend the rest of the day doing television and radio
interviews. I did one for radio and print the night before. Many
people are interested in knowing why I became Muslim and why when
we live in North America, we choose to give up certain aspects of
life here to conform to Islamic codes of living. The Canadian
group, as well as the American group I would imagine is of
particular interest to people. We are all Canadian, but there are
many of us who became Muslim with all kinds of backgrounds Polish,
Greek, Scottish/ French, Canadian etc.
The
drugs are strong and as we leave Mecca on the way to Jeddah, I go
to sleep. We return home later that night after a couple of
interviews. I get home in time to meet one of my Canadian friends
in Mecca to film the hajj for National Geographic. I am happy to
see him. I am starting to feel worse. I need to wear an extra top,
to keep warm. I pray that I will be well. We have our group
meeting, to let us know what is going to happen tomorrow as hajj
begins.
It
has been decided by our hosts that we will not go to Mina tomorrow.
It is usually the first place that the pilgrims go to as hajj
begins. Because we are quite a large group of people (several
hundred people invited from allover Europe and North America) they
feel that it will be difficult to get us all to Mina and then leave
for Arafat on time, the next day. I think they may have had some
problems before but I am not sure. And the most important part of
Hajj is going to Arafat. If you miss that you have missed hajj altogether.
Going to Mina is considered to be a practice of the prophet
Muhammad peace be on him. It is something that should 'be done but
there is no penalty for missing it. I am sad
about this. I want to do the hajj in the way it was done and the
way it should be done. But we are guests and we have to respect
that they are concerned about our safety .I tell myself that maybe
I can use the time to pray and rest since I am not feeling that
great and it may help me to get my strength for Arafat when I will
need it even more.
Up
8th
Dhul-Hijjah
I
get up this morning for Fajr (prayer at the time of dawn before
sunrise), the Canadian delegation will be meeting after to iron out
all the details. When we all meet, we are told that our bus # is 6
and that we have been assigned seating partners. We will be responsible
for knowing their whereabouts and keeping tabs on them. I have been
seated with someone who is one of the Ontario Human Rights
Commissioners. I am not feeling that great. I had a difficult time
sleeping last night. We should get dressed in our ihram by mid
morning and declare our intention to perform the hajj .
I
get ready after breakfast. I have my shower, I pray in my heart
that as the water washes my body, that this hajj will wash my
spirit of any sins and misdeeds. I put on my two pieces of
unstitched white cloth. Funny, how simple it is. I think of all
that I have left behind,
the expensive clothes, the trends and fashions that we are often
called to. As I think about it, as I put this on, I hope that I am
leaving behind the arrogance, pride, chauvinism and the other ills
that plague us around the world. The realisation and reminder that
life is too important than to be belittled to material items that
increase the wealth of a few and leave many others in their state
of social distress. How many times we eat and waste food, while
there are those on the streets sleeping hungry .We try to justify
this, there is no way that this can be right. To realise that God
is the only One, truly wealthy and that I am impoverished before
Him. That I am in need of God, yet God does not need me. My life
can be as significant or insignificant as I attempt, in the end, success
is only by God's infinite mercy. After dressing, I proceed
downstairs with one of my roommates, he is from Mississauga.
I
knew him from before. I had not known he was coming with the same
group until I went to the travel clinic for my meningitis shot. As
I walked out the clinic, he walked in.. I was so excited.
We
go down to the basement level to the prayer level and pray our two
units of prayer and declare our intention for Hajj. My throat is
hurting even more now and I am coughing now as well. We are now
officially in the state of Ihram. We cannot comb/cut our hair or
nails or wear or use anything that is scented. In this way, I will
approach my Lord in the most humble of states, coming to him in a
way I would not approach anyone else and to remind myself of my
relationship with Him and my need of Him. Anyone who has been
deceived by their wealth or the wealth that surrounds them, this is
the reminder of what life is truly about. It is also a reminder
that there will be justice on a Final day when no wrongs will go
without justice.
Later
on I visit the doctor, he tells me that to continue taking the
medicine that I was and he added a cough syrup to it. I am thankful
that I don't have to take antibiotics but I am wondering if I may
need them.
I
end up resting through the day, I hardly have strength. I think the
medication is strong and wreaking havoc on my system. In the
evening when I get up, I walk out of my room and straight into an
interview with BBC World. I have lost count of how many interviews
I have done now. I do it and then proceed down to the prayer level
to listen to a session by a religious scholar who has been famous
for speaking out politically in Saudi Arabia with no fear of the
repercussions. His speech is good. I leave and go upstairs after
the talk, I am not feeling well. I seem to be getting worse. My
chest is feeling a bit congested now. I am worried about that. I
can't sleep lying down. The guys bring some cushions and I prop
myself up a bit and try to go to sleep. At 2am we were all awakened
when some of the workers came to our room to take the rug
away. Apparently they will use it in our tent in Arafat.
During
the night I get fever, my temperature keeps fluctuating and I go
from feeling hot to feeling cold.
Up
9th
Dhul-Hijjah
The
day has arrived, we get up for the dawn prayer and rush to the
prayer area. I go early to the prayer area so I can pray before
dawn comes in. I am feeling worse than before, but I cannot contain
my excitement, hope and prayer for a successful day ahead. I spend some
time praying and then sit and talk to some guys who are
disappointed we did not go to Mina on the day before, but we
understand that they did it with our interest in mind. Ahead of us
is the most important day of Hajj. All of the hujjaj (who jaj
-plural all the people making hajj) stand on this day on the plains
of Arafat praying for forgiveness and that their prayers are
answered. This is where Prophet Muhammad peace be on him stood and
delivered his farewell sermon, before his death. It is the day
Muslims are taught, that we are forgiven. So we stand on that day
and seek forgiveness and beseech the Most Compassionate, Most
Merciful Lord, to forgive our wrongdoing and to set our affairs aright.
I
see hundreds of faces of those from places allover the world,
places I know and don't know starting to trickle into the prayer
area. We share the greeting of peace with each other and ask each
other to include us in their prayer as well. As soon as we finished
praying, we are told to proceed to our buses. I go up to my room and
grab my bag that I packed the night before and the umbrella I got
as a gift from Egypt Air when I left Cairo. I head down to my bus,
as I get on, I see most of the Canadian group there. I shuffle around
and find my seat and as I am about to sit realise that we were
provided with another umbrella. I run back to my room and return my
umbrella and return to the bus. There are about 8 or 9 buses I
am feeling ill. Gosh, I did not want to get ill during hajj, I
wanted to be well so I could exert as much effort as I could.
Still, I tell myself that this is the will of Allah, as nothing
happens except by His will.
We
receive our packaged breakfast, small containers with bread, jam,
cheese, juice and other small treats. I wish I could lie down. But
I have to eat, I need as much energy as I can to be able to make
the most of this blessed day. Just as the bus is about to leave,
the leader of the group comes on board with a tray full of hot tea.
I take my own without sugar, as I need my immune system to work. As
the hot tea goes into my stomach, I begin to feel some ease but I
can tell it is temporary. Still temporary is better than nothing.
I
looked at the leader of our group and the other group leaders and
marveled at their understanding of leadership. They would be the
first to get up and do the work that needed to be done, first to
help any of us out with anything, often would eat last and sleep
the least. Leadership in Islam is very different to other
leadership styles. It is based on serving others and remembering
that it is a big responsibility for which God will hold you
accountable. In Islam, no one should desire leadership. I try to
busy myself with du`as but I feel very weak. I decide to use my
puffers since it is getting a little more difficult to breathe.
Whatever du`as I can get out of my lips I say. I lean my head onto
the window and try to rest while the driver gives new meaning to
the phrase “driving like an Arab”
He
is furious and there is a lot of traffic as well. I wonder how he
can drive the huge bus in the manner that he is, sometimes I cannot
look out the front of the bus because I can swear that he will hit
everything in site. This was one morning I felt like we were
“guests of the king”. We had a police escort and because of
this were able to bypass some of the traffic. After about one hour,
we arrive at Arafat.
We
descend from our bus and head to our tent. It is huge but
thankfully very simple, though I am sure it must be better than
others. It is literally a tent and the sand ground is covered with
mats from our rooms. We lay on the ground with our pillows and try
to get some rest before Zuhr prayer. I am feeling worst than
before, I can feel my asthma becoming worse but I refuse to let it
defeat me. I pray and ask Allah to give me the strength to make it
through my hajj. I came so far and this was my one desire-to
complete my hajj. I keep thinking about the circumstances under
which I came and realise that it only happened because of Allah, He
in His Glorious Compassion brought me here. It was only with His
help that I came because on my own, I lacked the ability and
resources to get here. I find comfort in these thoughts, as I know
that I am the guest of Allah. And who is a better host than Allah?
After
a small rest, many of us get up to pray, I go to the washroom to
make ablution. Every step seems to become more difficult than
before but I keep walking on. I get to the washroom and remove the
lower piece of my ihram and hang it securely so that it does not
get wet or dirty. I am used to the floor toilets by now. It was a
fear of mine, being so used to our North American styled toilets.
But I know that this way is healthier too. Anyway, I learned over
the trip to just “suck it up” and do what had to be done. Many
of them are much cleaner than what I experienced before so I am
happy about that.
While
I am in the bathroom, I throw up. I know I am getting more ill, but
I cannot think about it. I know if I say anything that I may miss
the rest of my hajj and I know that I am still strong enough to do
what I have to do. I quietly use my puffer and try not to let
anyone see in order not to make anyone worry.
In
the mean time, I am worried about my friend Polish friend from
Montreal, Ali, who has a tooth infection. It is very painful and I
don’t want his infection to get worse. He takes some painkillers
and says that he is fine. I know that chances are it is worst than
he is saying. But I also understand. Asif, on the other hand is
also getting worse and whatever it is that I had (beside the
asthma) he seems to be developing as well.
We
pray nafl or extra prayers, then the noon prayer Zuhr and finally
listen to a dars (lesson) by a respected scholar. He speaks in
Arabic and it is translated to English. I try to follow in Arabic
and occasionally refer to the translation for help.
After
this, we eat collectively in huge trays rice and meat. I eat mainly
the rice so that my body’s digestive system will not be
overworking to digest meat. I need all my body’s resources to
focus on my health and well being.
I
spend some time talking to Br. Talha, our leader from Canada and
the head of WAMY, who is worried about me, I tell him not to worry
and that I would be just fine insha Allah. Just a little “under
the weather”.
It
is time to begin praying, the most important time of Arafat,
nothing should distract us at this time and we should be busy
seeking God’s blessing and bounty and asking for forgiveness for
our human errors. Mistakes and transgressions are features of our
humanity. No one is free from it, no one is perfect and so this
opportunity reminds us to always be humble-never arrogant- and that
perfection belongs to God only, and true peace and contentment
comes from submission to God. A message that was brought to all
people whether it was by Moses, Abraham, Jesus or Mohammed.
I
spend some time praying inside our tent, because it is on the
plains of Arafat and therefore, this is acceptable. But I am
enticed to venture outside and see what it is like. We were told
not to go out to pray. So I decide I will simply go and see what it
is like. I have visions in my head from media images that I have
seen, of a sea of pilgrims, the sandy brown landscape washed by an
ocean of white clad pilgrims, standing, sitting and prostrating
before their Lord.
I
go outside and look around a little, I see people standing all
around, and not exactly as I anticipated but still they are there.
I want to stay and pray outdoors, despite the heat and dust but I
don’t want to break the rules so I return to the tent. As I
enter, I hear the group leader talking about the option of praying
outside. Many of us would like to because it feels more authentic.
Nothing is wrong with staying inside but we would like to do as
much as we can, similar to what was done by the prophet peace be on
him and his companions.
A
group of us leave the tent and find a quiet spot in the shade of a
tree and begin to pray and make collective du`a’(prayer) for some
time. As the brother making the du`a’ prays out loud and the rest
of us following, he begins to cry. A moment when the heart is truly
connected to it’s purpose, focused on the reality of our
existence and expressing it’s true desire to become a focused
servant of God, and a source of kindness and mercy to all of His
Creation. It is a moment of recognition of the faults and errors
that we have made, the need for the never ending Mercy of the Most
Merciful and an awareness that death is a reality and so too, the
Day of Judgement.
We
stand and pray, for some time after which most people eave except
one other brother from Montreal and myself. He is
half-French/half-Canadian and he continues praying. I stand and
pray, tears streaming down my face, I pray for all those I love,
all my brothers and sisters around the world, my friends and for my
hajj to be accepted. I am at peace here despite the illness and
inconvenience, and the lack of worldly items to assist me. I am at
peace. I know that this is where I need to be.
Eventually
my brother Salman (who was also praying outside) comes to tell me
that there is a bus running nearby that is spewing out diesel
fumes. That is not good for me right now, we should move because
the smell is becoming very strong.
I
move to another spot, but my walking has slowed down considerably
and I decide to stop at another spot to pray. He tells me that he
does not want to return to the tent without me- he could tell that
I was not in the best of conditions. We begin walking and I stop to
pray again. I pray for a small time but I do not want him to feel
compelled to stay with me because I need to consider his feelings
as well and I know he is worried about me. Brotherhood is an
integral part of Islam. As much as he should be concerned about my
well-being, and me I was concerned about him worrying too much and
being inconvenienced. I knew what he was doing was out of love and
an understanding of his duty as a brother, and I thought about the
same thing. We return to the tent and continue to make du`a’
there.
Soon
we were asked to take our stuff and return to our buses. I grab my
pillow and begin my slow walk to the bus concentrating on each step
and trying not to inhale the diesel fumes from all the nearby
buses. As soon as I get into the bus and sit down, I have to grab a
cup and run off the bus because I had to throw up.
I
stand across the street from the bus and try to catch my breath.
But I cannot.
Everyone
on the bus is worried about me but I keep telling myself that I
will get better. I return to the bus and the concerns of brothers,
many of whom were initially strangers but we shared the bond of
Islam. Through this experience we are becoming closer and I suspect
the bonds that are created here will never be replaced by anything
else.
Our
bus begins to move to the border of Arafat but there is still about
45 minutes before sunset – the appointed time of departure from
Arafat. It is prohibited to leave Arafat before sunset otherwise
your hajj will not be accepted. Even the police will not allow
anyone to leave until the time of sunset. We sit in our bus and
make du`a’ until we get the time has come.
I
hope and pray that all my supplications are answered and that I can
be strong enough to complete the hajj. But I don’t know what will
happen, we are on our way to our next stop –Muzdalifah-and it is
getting harder to breath. Only Allah knows what lies ahead.
Up
Muzdalifah
We
arrive in Muzdalifah about 20 minutes later, of course the bus was
driving as fast as a plane flies. I did not mind though, I knew I
would need to rest, little did I know what would be next.
We
got off our buses at the side of the road at the entrance into
Muzdalifah and our hosts started laying out the carpets onto the
side of the road. As our group started moving towards the area, we
got split up as people were trying to find a space on the rugs to
lie down. This would be our “home for the night”, the rugs
–our floor, the mountains – our walls and the night sky our
ceiling. The night air feels cold, maybe because it is a desert and
that is usually what the night is like, maybe because I am becoming
more ill.
I
make wudu and join the prayer, we are praying Maghrib. There are
washrooms relatively close to where we are, that has its advantages
and disadvantages as well. After prayer, I spot Asif and I make my
way towards him so that I can re-join my group. As we start
walking, looking for our delegation, I notice both the head of our
group and Talha. They motion us towards them and we try to find a
place to sleep. I wish I were not feeling as ill as I am right now,
life is funny sometimes, the times when you really want to be
healthy –you become ill. Well, there is a plan and our wisdom and
understanding can never comprehend its divine wisdom.
We
get some packages of food, similar to what we got in the bus
earlier that morning. I don’t want anything, I have the juice
though. I sit and reflect on the day…
“How
do you know that Allah has accepted your du`as, your prayers?” As
the tears well up into my eyes, I notice our group leader and I ask
him this question.
He
reminded me that Allah is as we expect of Him. That we prayed and
asked for forgiveness and we expect that Allah in His infinite
Mercy will be merciful to us and forgive us. We should never doubt
that, or never expect less. I sit there and reflect on that and
think back to my intentions earlier that day, trying to review if I
did my best to be sincere or not.
I
find a place on the rug next to Asif. Later, though, I realise that
Asif is over a small depression so I trade with him. Although he
was fine with sleeping there or I should say trying to sleep there,
I knew he would be uncomfortable. I knew he was also thinking of me
and trying to make sure that I was ok. But I also knew that he was
getting ill as well. I thought to myself that “ I am smaller and
I can fit there”, so I convince him that the trade is fair and
ok.
I
literally have to try and curl up into it to try and fit so that I
can try and sleep. But I do not mind because I know that I am small
enough to contort my body and fit into the area. The other guys are
much bigger and I know it will be a fruitless endeavour for them to
try and sleep there. This gave new meaning to the phrase “packed
like sardines in a can” there was not enough room to turn because
someone was sleeping right next to you.
These
little exercises only strengthen the brotherhood and feelings of
connectedness and love that we feel towards each other. After all
only brothers would tolerate to be this close to each other and try
to each inconvenience themselves a little for the sake of the
others.
As
I lay down, I cover my face, we are sleeping on the side of the
road and the buses are continuously pouring inn, there is sand and
diesel fumes every where. I am still in Ihram and cannot cover my
head, I cannot wear anything more, so the cold feels as if it is
penetrating through my ihram like a knife cutting cheese.
I
sleep in spells, sporadic, the type of sleep you have when you are
very ill and you cant find a comfortable way to get some rest. I
fall asleep, wake up, try to move but realise that I cant and then
just lay there until the tiredness of my body overcomes me and
takes me into the quietness of sleep.
Up
10th
Dhul-Hijjah – The Day of `EID-ul-ADHA
By
2 Am I can’t sleep, I open my eyes to realise that Asif was not
beside me anymore, he and some of our friends were getting ready to
go somewhere. The flow of buses and cars has been constant and the
smells of diesel fumes are repugnant. The bros. say that they are
going to climb a nearby mountain. I figure, I am sick and can’t
rest, I might as well just go along for the “ride.”
I
get up, and I slowly make my way up. I follow the guys but for me
each step is measured by not being able to breathe, as well as the
pain I am feeling in my back and chest.
As
I start making my way up the mountain, my mind flashes back to my
ascent of Mount Sinai when I was in Egypt. That was some years ago,
and ironically, I climbed that with some of my friends from Belgium
at 8:30 PM with only the moonlight. It was over two hours long and
nothing could prepare us for that adventure. But I bring my mind
back to the present. I am here, I am making hajj – me, I am the
guest of Allah. What an honour this is, to walk on this path.
I
make my way through a Turkish delegation who are all asleep (gee I
wonder why?) and finally make my way to the top with the rest of
the guys. As I look over the top, down to the ground below, my
heart races, I feel my eyes widening and my jaw drop in awe of the
sight below. An amazing sea of white, pilgrims of every colour,
nationality, everywhere. The two roads that run across each filled
with bumper to bumper traffic punctuate this vast ocean of white.
Some delegations from different countries have different colour
ribbons to identify themselves, so they wont get lost. You can
easily tell the Malaysian delegations, the women have ribbons tied
to them to identify themselves. Some groups have flags and signs.
We withhold our breaths in bewilderment, understanding right then
and there that we were just one of millions. One individual who had
the honour of being here in the largest gathering on earth, but
still one brother of millions of brothers and sisters, despite all
the differences, our hearts are united by faith.
My
mind flashes to Malcolm X and his descriptions of what he saw at
hajj of sitting with men the blackest of black and others with
blond hair and blue eyes. It was the beginning of his transition
and transformation. I understand it, I have shared similar
experiences, I can feel it running in my veins.
We
sit there and make du`a’, sometimes collectively, sometimes
individually. We also take the chance to pray some extra prayer. It
is a beautiful time, of connectedness with each other and with
Allah. To realise that material possessions, wealth, status, in the
end they mean absolutely nothing. As overwhelming and invigorating
as it was to think about this, there was another sobering feeling
that overcame us. Hajj is the closest experience to the Day of
Judgement, the gathering off all of humanity, the crowding, the
fear and hope for forgiveness of our Lord.
We
decide after some time to go back down. When we get down, the guys
decide to pray tahajjud but my body cannot handle it anymore, I
have to lie down. So I excuse myself and I lay down near enough to
at least hear them praying. I know they are getting more concerned
about me, I can see it in their eyes, even when I say not to worry.
Our bodies are natural defence mechanisms; I will get over it, I
tell myself.
Soon
it is time for Fajr, I get up and make wudu. It is hard to make
wudu in the cool air but it is not too bad, I have had to do worse
in Egypt I remind myself.
As
soon as we pray it is time to leave. Asif stays with me and we
start walking towards the bus. As fate would have it, our bus was
one of the furthest away. As we walk through the crowds, Asif
falls. He gets up and dusts himself off and he is ok. We finally
make it to the bus and I get on. We are off to Mina.
Up
Mina
The
way to Mina is crowded and we have to contend with the traffic. It
has been several hours sitting in the bus but we can do nothing.
There is no point to being frustrated as there is nothing anyone
can do. When you think about getting stuck in a traffic jam where
there are millions of people, it can give you a clear idea of what
it is like. I am happy because I can use the time to try and rest,
curl up on my seat and lean my head on the side and try to rest.
Along
the way we see a Canadian flag, we get excited as we all look to
see if we can see anyone in the Canadian delegation that we know,
but we do not. Seeing the flag evoked many thoughts and sentiments.
This hajj, was a training place that spiritually mentally,
emotionally and physically prepared me to return home and serve my
society. Despite the ills, the harms, it reminded me of my
connection with God, my higher purpose –to serve all of humanity.
All the ills of the world, all over the world, some shared by the
millions present now, others unique to Canada alone.
Hajj
was teaching me to understand my role as a member of humanity for
all of humanity- to recognise the distinct beauty of all and the
exclusion of none. That superficial classifications in the end,
were just that- superficial. I know when I return home I must be
prepared to role up my sleeves and help the dispossessed and to not
only feel that they will benefit from my help, but truly, I am the
one who will benefit. For it connects me to my identity as a Muslim
and as a Canadian. It is who I am and when I am who I am, I will
truly be happy and free.
The
symbolism of hajj can help to transform the societies in which we
live and make this experience of unity, love and spirit be shared
by all peoples in all places. The bus driver is getting a little
upset, I guess his focus is to get us to our tent as quickly as he
can.
Finally,
we make it to our tent. We get off on the road and walk in to our
tent. It is nice, a huge tent, with the same rugs that we had on
the floor in Arafat and Muzdalifah. The workers of our hosts keep
picking them up and laying them out in each place that we go to. I
am thankful for all their hard work.
Other
than that there is nothing else that I can notice, at least not
right now. Our group leader decides that we should immediately
proceed and stone the jamarat and return to our rooms in Makkah to
have our heads shaven and bathe and change into regular clothes.
Once our heads are shaven, we are released from the obligations of
Ihram. I can’t wait to have a shower and put on some regular
clothes.
Stoning
the jamarat is a symbolic gesture that reminds us of the time that
Satan tried to tempt Abraham from sacrificing his son Isma`il. When
he appeared to Abraham to try and convince him not to follow
Allah’s command, Abraham was steadfast. Because of that, God
commanded him to sacrifice a sheep instead of his son. When we
stone the jamarat, it is symbolic of stoning Satan and repelling
his temptations away from the path of God.
Sometimes
though some Muslims, ignorant of the symbolism, become quite
emotional –as if they were really stoning Satan. The area where
the stoning occurs is the place where we hear about people being
trampled. The sheer amount of people and their movement can at
times be quite dangerous.
But
I tell myself that I will do what is required and place my trust in
Allah. My mind travels back to my thoughts that I had disclosed to
my friend Asif earlier – maybe this is where I will die. But
Allah knows better than we do and I must do my best. In the end
whatever is to happen will happen. I prepared myself before this
journey. I wrote my mom and let her know of my wishes in the event
that anything was to happen to me. For my wife who was away when I
left caring for our son who was ill at the time, I left a long
letter. In it I shared with her my thoughts and left her with some
advices to keep with her. For my children, I left several neatly
wrapped gifts on their beds. And I asked for the forgiveness of all
my friends and colleagues. I had done my best to do whatever
I could and my fate was placed completely in the safety of the will
of my Lord.
My
mind frequently flashes to the father of one of my friends who had
gone to Hajj the year before. He went with my friend, his son, and
one morning he was making ablution getting ready for the dawn
prayer. He passed away while making ablution. He was an amazing
man, wonderful and kind, I remember him in my prayers, him and his
family. If this is where I am taken to my Lord then I remind
myself-From God we have come and to Him is our eventual return.
Even
though I was not feeling too well, I feel like I have some energy
now, maybe it was the time on the bus. I want to go and stone the
jamarat and return to get my hair shaven. We leave with a group
from our contingent and start proceeding towards the jamarat. Each
group of us has been assigned a leader, someone who has gone before
and we are to follow their directions. Brother Talha gives us some
general guidelines and we decide to enter in to the area in-groups
of three.
If
you could imagine it, it is like a two story parking deck. The
ground level and the top level. The area where the stoning happens
is at three distinct columns. What was done is at the top level,
there are huge openings that were built directly over the columns
and the columns were heightened so that they extended above the top
level. All that has to be done is to gently throw seven pillars
into the enclosed catchment area around the pillars. There is no
need to throw too high or to even hit the pillars. It is a symbolic
gesture. The pebbles however, must fall into the catchment area
around the pillar.
I
enter with the other two members of my group, but because of the
sheer size of the crowd and the movement we are separated almost
instantly. Almost like a huge ocean with a multitude of currents,
we got caught in different currents. I make du`a’ and pray for
Allah’s help and guidance.
I
get close to the pillar, not to close because I don’t want to
have the pebbles hit my head. I say Bismillah (In the name of
Allah) and start throwing each pebble one by one. Because I am
vertically challenged I cannot see where the pebbles are landing.
“I hope they are getting in,” I say to myself. I am tired and
trying to keep with the flow of the crowd so as not to fall. The
most dangerous thing to do in this area is to fall. Because people
will not see and that is how some people get trampled. I wade into
the sea of pilgrims, walking over the lost slippers, ihram pieces
and other articles that have fallen to the ground. If anything
falls there-it stays there, no one dares to try to stop and take it
up, it is as dangerous as walking in the middle of a busy highway.
I
throw a few pebbles and try to stay focused, I get hit in my head
by another pebble. I don’t think about it, it was a mistake. All
of a sudden there is a surge in the crowd, all the people around me
start falling down to the ground and then without even realising I
fall with them onto my back. “Is this my time?” I ask myself. I
keep trying to say the kalima in my head and at the same time I
keep trying to stand back up. As I try to stand up I can see the
commotion and chaos of the crowd around me. “Keep saying the
shahada” I tell myself.
The
people who are standing immediately around us are holding out their
arms trying to pull people up and to hold the people from behind
from moving forward. The people from behind are oblivious to the
fact that people ahead of them have fallen and so keep trying to
move forward.
My
mind is flashing on all things, getting up; saying the shahada;
hoping that the people over me will not trample me; my family;
knowing….that this could be the end. I keep fighting to get up
but each time I make myself halfway up someone standing over me
steps on my ihram and it pulls me down to the ground. I have lost
my slippers and umbrella but I really don’t care, I just want to
get back up. The top of my ihram is long though and as I get up
slowly someone over me who is trying not to move forward is moved
forward due to the inertia from behind. It keeps getting caught
under peoples’ foot, I fight to try and get the top of my ihram
off, it is the only way to try and save myself from being pulled
down again. By Allah’s mercy, I get it unwrapped and let it fall
to the ground. At the same time I hold up the lower part of my
ihram so that it does not get caught under anyone’s feet again.
I
stand up – alhamdulillah, it was a close call. This time is a bit
blurry to me, I think I had one or two more pebbles left so I threw
it and then made my way slowly out of there. I come out,
disheveled, perhaps with some footprints on me, I only have one
part of my ihram left- the lower part. It is dirty and I have lost
everything else –slippers, sunglasses, identification badge
saying that we were with WAMY and guests of the “keeper of the
Haramain” and the ihram. But I am alive –alhamdulillah.
I
realised that when these incidents happen, it is not always as
portrayed on the media, a bunch of barbaric people just pushing and
hitting each other that eventually leads to people being trampled.
It is the sheer size of the crowd and the result of the current of
movements of people. When we fell, the people around us were doing
their best to try and get us up and to prevent us from getting
hurt. I am sure that at times there is pushing, that goes without
saying but no one is trying to hurt people, they are simply trying
to get in and out of the area.
As
soon as the other see me, they are concerned, I tell them what
happened to me. They are relieved that I am out and safe. Br.
Shabir rushes over and covers me with the top of his own Ihram,
preferring me to himself. He then buys me a pair of slippers
even though I am content to walk barefooted. Our group leaders ask
us if we were able to do the stoning successfully. I tell them that
I am worried that I did not get all my pebbles into the catchment
area.
The
leader offers for us to go back and do it so that I can have peace
of mind. This time however, they are sending me in between two
guys. Imtiaz was at the front and Br. Talha was behind me.
Amazingly the crowd seems to open up and we get close to the
pillars, I say “Bismillah, Allahu Akbar” and begin throwing my
pebbles. Each one falls into the catchment area. Soon I am finished
and we exit and return to our group who is patiently waiting on us.
We
start walking back up to our tent. It is not too far, about 7-10
minutes long. I am tired and very exhausted. We return to the tent
and I sit down. I am feeling ill again, not too much though. But I
guess I did not have as much energy as I thought before I went to
stone the jamarat. We sit and wait on the buses to come for us. We
missed the first one, so we must wait for another one to come by.
We are told to take any bus that comes and return to the building.
There would be barbers waiting there for us to cut our hair or
shave our heads.
I
sit quietly, sometimes talking to my friends other times just
focusing on my breathing. It is amazing how sometimes we take
simple blessings for granted. The ability to breathe is one of
them. Simple, we do it all the time without even noticing at times,
yet it is essential to our very existence. Thank You Allah for
helping me to reflect on this. Which of Your favors can I deny –
definitely none of them.
Soon
a suburban Truck comes by and can take some of us. Our group leader
sends me because he is still worried about my health. I sit in the
back with one of the brothers and I rest. We are on our way
“home” to complete one of the last rites of hajj before we can
remove our ihram.
I
can feel myself becoming more ill or maybe I am not getting more
ill, maybe the adrenaline is starting to recede. We get to the
building to see some people with completely shaven heads, already
showered and changed and others still in ihram. As we get inside,
the workers greet us with greetings of an acceptable hajj and
direct us to the basement to have our hair cut.
For
our trip back to the building where we were staying, I start to
feel the tiredness of the past few days setting in. I marvel at the
fact that people come repeatedly for hajj, despite the hardships
that are involved. I don’t know if I could do it.
As
we get to the building, I head inside following the directions of
the workers who greet us with greetings of an acceptable hajj.
Although our hajj is not yet complete, I know that they mean well.
They direct us to the basement. As I get down, I see several lines,
maybe about 50 people waiting to get their haircut. There are three
barbers. Everyone is in straight lines and awaiting their turns. I
look at the barbers and how quickly they shave peoples’ heads.
They are all Indo-Pak and they speak periodically in Urdu and other
times in Arabic. Urdu was the language of recourse when they did
not want people to understand. But both the English and our own
Canadian delegation have Urdu speakers. I wonder about Asif and the
others, where are they, are they safe and how long before they come
back.
There
are some guys who are not shaving their heads though, they are just
having it cut. I have only shaved my head once before in my entire
life, when I was blessed with going to umrah some years before. I
had told myself then, that the only other time in my life I would
shave my head would be at hajj.
I
contemplate just cutting my hair because I am not feeling well and
the nights are cool. In Medina (which is where we plan to go after
hajj) it will be even colder. I know the preference is to shave
your head. I tell myself that I can wear a hat. Especially now
since we will be released from the conditions of ihram, I will be
able to cover my head. That’s it – I am going to take the
plunge and shave my head. After all, our sins are said to drop from
us as much as our hair falls from our heads. J (I need all the help
I can get).
I
look ahead in my line and notice that everyone leaving the seat of
the barber, whom I’m headed for, looks like their head was a
battle zone. There are knicks and cuts every where. I show this to
some of the guys and the more I notice, I realise that I need to
change lines. So I do. I sacrifice the place I was at and went into
another line. The strangest thing happened, the barbers switched
places and the same barber ended up shaving the heads of people in
MY line. “Great” I tell myself…what should I do?
I
change lines back to my original line. At this point the other guys
are laughing at me because they realise what has happened to me.
Soon after I move over, the barbers start talking and then they
switch again …AAHhhhhh. Forget it, I tell myself this is
not working. You would almost think it was planned, that he wanted
to shave my head, but he could not see me where I was. It was the
will of Allah.
I
decide that the lines are too long and I could not handle waiting
anymore, I was starting to feel worse. So I tell the guys that I am
going to leave and go out to get my hair cut outside.
As
I am leaving the building, I bump into Talha. He was going to get a
haircut outside as well. We both hoped that by doing this we would
avert the line up in the basement. On our way, he decided to stop
off at the adjacent grocery to buy a Kiffaya to cover his head
after he has it trimmed. We looked through the entire section of
the grocery superstore to no avail. He decided he would wait until
later.
We
walked to the barbers only to see a line up stretching down the
street and as soon as we got there, I heard the adhan echoing
through the air. Well so much for that. We decided to return to the
building. We had our won mussalah there and so I could pray when I
we got there.
I
lined up in the line to have my hair cut and eventually it was my
turn. Guess which barber I got, yup…exactly. But Alhamdulillah
for me (not for the guys before), by the time he got to me, he had
gotten the hang of it, so I got out with barely any knicks on my
now baldhead.
Somewhere
in the midst of all this, I manage to return to see the doctor in
the building. I tell him that I am getting worst and I need
antibiotics (I can hardly believe I am requesting it, but I don’t
want to get worst). He does not seem to think it is a big deal. He
gives me some medicines, none of which I think will be useful but I
resign myself to taking it because I have no choice. I wish I could
get some medicine that will knock me out, I think to myself.
I
went upstairs and showered and then started to layer up, I put on
several layers of clothes, unsure of how I made it through the past
days with only my ihram. I started to put on clothes and my sweater
and then I went to bed. I remembered earlier at prayer, we were
told that there would be an Eid party in the basement after the
evening prayer Asr and that we should all attend. I drank some
orange juice and took my pills. I don’t want to eat anything
right now, it is too much work to eat. I found comfort in my bed, a
real bed and went off into an instant, deep sleep. I slept right
through the party and awoke with just enough time to pray and to
catch the bus to return to Mina for the night.
Sleeping
at Mina is a part of the requirement of Hajj. Many people just stay
there for the three days and nights but we were able to return to
our place and then return at night.
Trying
to get back into Mina was a lot harder than before. There was
traffic everywhere and thousands of pilgrims in the streets. After
numerous attempts to try and get to our tent, the leaders decide
that we are going to have to drop out and walk to the tent. By now
I am weak, it is getting harder to walk and the air is filled with
dust and exhaust fumes which are only exacerbating my inability to
breath. I have a dust mask, which I put on and begin to walk.
I start slowly walking, someone takes my bag for me and I begin the
trek.
As
I begin to feel worse I remind myself that sickness is purification
and this is the best time to go through this process. I also remind
myself that I rather face the trials of this life than the next. I
need to be patient and by Allah’s mercy things will change. I am
doing my best, monitoring my diet and trying not to over-exert
myself (ok, well…let’s just say that I am not doing what I
would ordinarily be doing if I were well J).
One
of the guys offer to carry me, “no thanks” I say, as much as I
am grateful for the offer, I can do this I tell myself. I continue
walking, soon I can barely see anyone from my group except the one
brother who stayed with me. I must make small steps because it is
getting difficult to breathe and it hurts. I walk through hundreds
of people, men-many of whom are bald, women and children. All of
whom are here to seek the mercy of God. Many are sleeping in any
spot they can get because all of the tents are filled.
The
pilgrims are now out of their ihram and are moving around busily,
minds still attached and drawn to their primary purpose of being
conscious of God and seeking forgiveness for their sins.
Finally,
I get to the tent. We make wudu and pray Isha prayer and then try
to settle down for the night. I am still taking the meds from the
doctor in my building. No antibiotics though, just some other stuff
he says that will help me. I can feel my body convulsing with pain
but I keep telling myself to be positive and know that I can get
better. I know that it will be hard to sleep tonight, as I settle
myself down some of the guys and I talk for a bit, then we go to
sleep.
Up
11th
Dhul-Hijjah
I
sleep in spurts of one-two hours, but I can’t handle the pain and
difficulty of breathing. It was this night that I would see and
understand the connectedness of hearts and understand brotherhood
from a different dimension altogether. Hassan refused to leave my
side, he even slept beside me incase I needed him at night for
anything. He would wake up and check on me or when I would stir,
check to see if I was ok.
Talha
was very worried about me, he would keep asking about me or if I
needed anything. He and I were sleeping in different sections of
the tent. It was one huge tent that was open and we just set
ourselves up in rows and went to sleep. He was in the far right
corner, while I was in the middle, closer to the “door” of the
tent.
Amazingly, every time I would wake up, Talha would wake up as well.
I realised after a couple times. When I would wake up, I would have
to sit up to assist my breathing and I would notice that he would
wake up as well. I knew he was worried about me and he would often
look over to see if I needed anything. One time, he followed me out
of the tent as I was trying to quietly walk out, I was going to the
bathroom and he came and asked me if I wanted to go to the
hospital.
I
did think about it, but I convinced him that I was fine and if I
did need to go, I promised that I would tell him. By now everywhere
was hurting, it hurt when I breathe, especially my back and
stomach. I practiced some breathing exercises that I learnt in
Egypt to help my asthma. I kept trying to sleep but would continue
to sleep in short spells.
We
got up for Fajr and prayed. Everyone was becoming more worried
about me for some reason J. Soon we would be having some tea and
other food that was pre-packaged and then get ourselves ready to go
to stone the jamarat a second time.
This
time, I would not go to stone the jamarat, I asked Hassan or ‘Ala
to stone on my behalf, something that is allowed in the case of
illness. I got up and collected my pebbles and gave to them and I
sat in the tent and prayed for Allah to accept this from me and for
them to be safe. Soon, we were outside waiting on our buses, I got
on and got back to the building.
We
had to get ready to make tawaf and sai at the K’aba. I was very
weak but I was happy because there is no feeling that can compare
to being in the precincts of the K’aba. The buses take us to the
haram to make tawaf. Two of the bigger guys in the group offer for
me to come with them because they wanted to make sure that I would
not be crushed because of my breathing. So Ali from Montreal walked
in front of me and Muhammad from Ottawa walked behind me. Muhammad
held onto Ali’s arm and I was between them. The love and concern
I felt from these brothers of mine really empowered me to make the
best of this experience.
As
we entered the haram and my gaze fell onto the K’aba, a flood of
thoughts and emotions overcame me. I looked and I prayed while
trying to keep count to ensure that we made the exact amount of
circuits (7). As we continued to do so in the midst of the crowds
and the people, I begin to feel more and more tired and weak. We
finally stop and pray behind the station of Ibrahim, once again,
they both look out for me to make sure I am not squeezed. As we
finish we move towards Safa and Marwa, the two mountains that
Hagar, the wife of Ibrahim ran between looking for sustenance for
her child, Isma`il peace be on him. By the time we make it through
the crowds and get there, I start to feel exhausted. Still, we make
our du`as and we proceed to walk. I cannot jog when we get to the
demarcated areas where pilgrims jog, so I walk as quickly as
possible. Soon though, it becomes a bit too much, I have to hold on
to the arm of Ali for support to continue walking. Near to the end,
I needed the support of both of them to finish my sai.
Once
we finished and made our du`as, we proceeded to exit, we exited
through the wrong gate. That meant that we had to walk all the way
around the kaba to get back in time to the buses. That was no easy
task at this point. Still by the mercy of Allah, we were able to
get back in time and catch our bus back to the building.
There
was food prepared for us but I could not eat that much. I made my
way up to my room and sat on my bed. I could no longer lie down as
I would be unable to breathe. I set up some pillows and slept in an
upright position. As per the doctor’s advice, I closed the window
and made sure the a/c was off.
As
I settled down, I realised that the reason I was feeling cold was
because I had started running a fever. My fever brought with it the
accompanying pain. It seemed to be like a roller-coaster getting
high at times and dropping. I tried to sleep through, but as usual
my sleep was intermittent. During the afternoon, Hassan would keep
coming to check on me, he would bring damp cloths and put it onto
my head and bring me juice to keep me hydrated. I thank Allah for
him, because I cant do this for myself right now. As he looks after
me, I pray that Allah looks after him and his family in this life
and the next. He is becoming worried, as am I, because I start
suspecting that it is more than just my asthma. Finally when I
become a bit more conscious, some brothers from the German
delegation come to see me. They are physicians and I am not sure if
it was Hassan or someone else who called them. They come and check
my breathing, and listen to my chest.
As
they ask me all the typical questions that doctors ask in Arabic,
one of my friends translate for me. Even though I can understand
them, I don’t trust myself right now because of how I am feeling.
I am scared that I may not understand and answer the wrong
questions with wrong answers.
The
doctors are convinced that I have pneumonia. When they say this, it
all started to make sense, all the symptoms I was experiencing
definitely should have clued me off to that. But I kept telling
myself that it was the combined stress, dust, fumes and everything
else. I had not had an attack for years, since I went to Egypt. The
pollution and climate in Cairo had combined to re-ignite the asthma
that had left me for some twelve years.
As
a child I used to suffer from deathly attacks of asthma. I could
recall at a very early age somewhere around 9-10 when I told my
grandmother that I wanted to die, because it was so hard to live
without breathing. Grandmothers never like to hear things like
that. I used to be dependent on my doses of Ventolin and my puffer.
Eventually, my mother took me to a homeopathic doctor who radically
altered my doctor and while I was not happy with my new diet, it
was the last time I would remember having an asthma attack until
that chilly night in Cairo.
Once
that happened, I decided to keep puffers with me just incase, but I
tried my best never to use them. I wanted to train myself to focus
on my breathing and calm myself so that I did not panic when I
could not breathe. So when I refused to go to the doctor before, I
was trying to see if I could gain some control and eventually beat
what I thought was an asthma attack. Still I was smart enough to
keep my puffers and they did help me. The stresses of the
environment along with my asthma had combined forces and I was not
able to do much more on my own. I think about how many things we
take for granted, the ability to see, hear, touch, feel, breath,
think thoughts, see colour…so many blessings that we often take
for granted. I thank God for all that I have been blessed with in
my life. More than that, I am happy to be here, in the holiest of
places – a guest of God.
The
doctors decided to give me some antibiotics that they thought would
help me but they are worried. They talk to the head of the Canadian
delegation and suggest to him, without my knowing, that I be taken
to the hospital.
Finally,
Talha comes and tells me that I need to go to the hospital. I tell
him that I don’t want to go. In my head I am telling myself that
I don’t have long to complete my hajj, I want to do it. But
Islamically, my body has a right over me as well and Allah knows my
intention was to complete my hajj. I tell him, I think that the
meds that the doctors gave me will help by Allah’s will. He
refuses to listen to my pleas. He has made up his mind and even if
I disagree, he is the leader of the group, I must follow his
instructions. Islamic etiquette is very clear on this.
He
informs me that an ambulance is on its way for me. The attendants
will come up soon with a tank of oxygen and a stretcher to take me
down. I plead with him to let me go down on my own without the
drama of a stretcher. He finally agrees. He says that I should wait
until they bring me the tank of oxygen and then slowly make my way
down. I am at least thankful about that. I go round to the room of
the others, all the guys are there. As I stand at the door, they
pause and look, I can see the concern in their eyes.
“I
am going to the hospital now – please keep me in your du`as.”
Hassan is worried. He immediately says that he is coming with me. I
am happy that he is coming, I need his support and I don’t know
what will happen. My thoughts that this could be the last trip of
my life are still in my head. I know Asif is worried about this as
well. He is the only one I have told my thoughts.
I
get ready and wait in my room and soon someone comes up with a tank
of oxygen and puts a mask on for me. The oxygen helps with my
breathing, my lungs feel more calmed and I sit there thinking that
it would have been great to have this a couple days ago. I start
making the trek down the hall. Each of my steps is measured, but I
feel slight relief with the oxygen. The man (I am not sure if he is
a paramedic or not) who is helping to hold the oxygen tank is also
helping me along. As I get down to the main floor, the other people
who are there notice what is going on. I can feel their eyes
trained on me and I am uncomfortable with the extra attention.
Ala,
our group leader is there waiting. Masha Allah, he is a good group
leader, looks out for all of us – I pray that he is rewarded in
this life and the next. As I get to the ambulance, they open the
doors, I tell them that I will get in on my own. As I climb up,
just like in a movie, I bang my head. I am ok I tell myself…they
ask me to lie on the stretcher. I have not seen Hassan yet, but I
really want him to come. I hope we don’t leave without him. There
is a sense of calmness that he gives me, something that you feel
when you know someone cares.
He
just manages to make it before we leave. Ala explains to him that
he does not have to come and even if he does he will have to wait
in the lobby because they will not let him come in with us. Ala
needs to go because he will be translating from English to Arabic
and vice versa. Neither Hassan nor I can speak Arabic fluently
enough. Hassan still wants to come, he will wait in the lobby if he
has to.
They
both get into the back with me and the ambulance starts towards the
hospital, sirens blaring. I am happy that they will both be there.
This is strange…so this is what it is like. As I lay there, I am
not crying, but tears are streaming down my face. I am lying in a
crouching position, it is the only way I can feel some relief with
my breathing and with the pain. The paramedic adjusted the oxygen
levels just before we left. The driver uses the siren
intermittently to get us through the traffic (I am guessing).
Through
my mask, I ask Ala if I would be able to go back to Mina for the
last day. I tell myself, I couldn’t have made it this far to miss
the last rites of hajj. Ala smiles and he says, “do not worry.”
For the duration of the ride, the driver asks Ala about me. He
explains to him my story of accepting Islam at the age of 11. The
driver shares some of his reflections on my story and some
connections to stories of the sahabas. I say nothing, I just focus
on breathing.
Soon
we get to the hospital, I am on the stretcher and they take me out
and wheel me into the ER. A doctor comes to talk, Ala speaks to him
in Arabic. Hassan cannot come in with me and so he says that he
will wait in the waiting room for me. I know he is making du`a’
that everything goes well. The doctor speaks to me and asks me some
questions. I answer him briefly, still trying to focus on my
breathing. I notice that all the nurses seem to be other than Saudi
– maybe from the Philippines, Malaysia or other places.
They
send me to get an X-ray, Ala comes with me to the lab where it will
be done. Some time after the doctor comes and says that my lungs
look fine. The nurse comes and gives me, what I believe was a
cortisone shot and gave me some nasty medicine. After this, Ala
helps me walk out of the hospital and back into the ambulance. What
did I have exactly – only Allah really knows. All I know was that
after the shot, it was not as hard to breathe anymore, but I was
still very weak. He recommended that I continue taking the
antibiotic cipro that the German doctors gave me. Hassan was happy
to hear that I would be ok by Allah’s mercy.
The
ambulance took me back to the building, where everyone was happy to
see me. I pray and go to my bed to rest and sleep. I sleep for the
rest of the evening and get up in time to have something to eat and
then return to Mina for our final night. As I thought about going
to Mina, I wanted to stay and rest, I felt so ill and drained, I
did not know if I could make it. But I felt as if my hajj had
already been different in so many ways and I wanted to complete my
hajj badly. So I “sucked it in” and told myself that it was one
more night for the sake of my Lord.
As
we got back to Mina, we settled down in our rows and tried to
sleep. Hassan checks up on me but Asif, decides he will stay with
me this time to help if I needed it. Among the chorus of snores, I
tried to ease my mind and get some rest. Alhamdulillah, tonight was
a bit different, I was able to get some more rest and less
interruptions in the night. When I get up before fajr, I can feel
some difference. I tell myself that maybe I can stone the jamarat
today. Well I wont make any decisions right now.
Up
12th
Dhul-Hijjah
I
walk and line up in the lines to make wudu, some of the others
notice me and they allow me to go ahead of them so that I will not
be standing too long. I eat something so I can take my medicine and
then we pray fajr. I go back to rest and hope that I will have
enough strength to get me to the jamarat later that day. It is
decided by our group that we will go after dhur prayer. We would
pray, then there would be a dars (lesson) and then we would go.
When
it comes time, I decide that it would be better for me not to go. I
realise I am not strong enough. I ask Ala to stone on my behalf and
he agrees. I go and collect some pebbles and then give them to him
so that he can throw. There are some fears about the crowds today
because it is the last day and we are all worried about possibly
falling or getting hurt.
We
all meet and everyone are assigned into teams. Because I will be
staying back I offer to keep peoples things for them like $$ and
watches etc. I often marvel at the beauty of Islam in the way that
it affects the hearts of so many. People easily handed me (and
Dawud who was also not well) many valuable items, identification,
credit cards, cell phones, monies etc without even checking. Fully
knowing that they would receive every cent when they returned. The
fear here is not of the other person knowing that we did something
wrong, the understanding is that God sees everything. And God will
give all justice if not in this life, in the next. Before they
leave, we make du`a’and then they disperse.
As
I sit with Dawud, a former missionary who accepted Islam, we talk
about life and Islam and not going today to stone the jamarat. We
can only imagine what it is like now. I quietly pray for them and
for their return.
When
they return, we are told that we need to leave Mina before Maghrib
or else we have to stay for another night. Everyone gets their
stuff and starts walking out to the roads. We should take anyone of
our buses to leave. There is a good chance with the amount of
people that we may not be able to leave before Maghrib. I am hoping
that we can because I am physically drained and I don’t think I
can last another night outside.
Everyone
moves with speed, many others are starting to complain that their
throats are hurting. That was how I started..I pray that they are
not getting whatever I had. Finally, we hear a fatwa from one of
the scholars that as long as we are on route with the intention of
leaving Mina, we can leave even after sunset).
We
go outside on to the street, it is crowded with buses, cars, people
and more buses. The stifling hold of diesel overpowers your lungs.
I hope I don’t have to wait in this too long. While we are
waiting, I ask the others how things were when they went to stone
the jamarat. They said that it was the best day yet, there were
clear spaces and they were able to go and come easily. In my heart
I wished I went with them, but Allah knows best and is the best to
plan.
Finally
one of the buses comes and we are able to quickly get on. Many of
the roads are closed for some reason and so we are stuck in
traffic. Every time the driver tries an alternate route, it is
blocked. Some of us think that he may be lost. As we continued
along, we had to stop and pick up some guys from our group who were
on another bus. Their bus shut down and so the only way for them to
get back was to get on our bus. They climb on and fill up the
aisles. Many of them tired and weary from hajj as well others are
getting sick. I wished I could help some of them but I am too weak
to help myself.
Soon
I noticed one of the brothers who had a huge recording camera, he
was recording some footage from hajj. I took the camera from him
and put it on my lap so that he would not have to hold it the whole
way back.
My
mind was flooded with many emotions and concerns. I did not have to
worry about the sacrifice because I paid for it to be done.
Finally, we get back to the building, I want to go and call Sharon
(my wife) but I am feeling so ill that I have no choice but to go
and lay down. That night, by Allah’s mercy I was able to get some
rest.
Now
all I had left was to complete the farewell tawaf. A bitter-sweet
feeling….
Up
Note:
No one is allowed copy, post or print without permission from
the author.
|
