Hajj Chronicles Part 21: Day 1: Mina

Previous posts in this series: Parts 1 to 20

The tunnel leading to Mina

Friday, 4^th November, 2011. The day that my wife and I embarked on our Hajj. We’d made all our preparations, entered into ihraam, and we were about to make our way up to our camp on Mina – where hujjaaj spend most of the five days of Hajj. It had been a long wait – from the point where the call had come to me a year earlier, then the months of preparation, then departing for the journey, and finally the five weeks in Saudi leading up to this point. And now it was here.

Tent city welcomes you

We arrived late to meet our group – with everyone already waiting for the latecomers, and the group having collectively pronounced their niyah for Hajj. It wasn’t the ideal way to start, but we hurriedly made our niyah, and then set off with the group – taking that 20 minute walk up the hill, through the tunnel, and onto the vast plain of Mina, all the while reciting the talbiyyah:

Labbayk Allahumma labbayk (Here I am at Your service, O Lord, here I am!)
Labbayka la sharika laka labbayk ( Here I am at Your service! You have no partners, here I am!)
Innal-hamda, wan-ni`mata, laka wal-mulk (Yours alone is all praise and all bounty, and Yours alone is sovereignty.)
La sharika lak (You have no partners.)

Tents line the valley of Mina

My feelings were similar to that of the first time I was in ihraam – before our first umrah, yet this time the magnitude of the event was far greater. There was little space for thoughts of the outside world or distractions. Everything needed to be focussed on what awaited in the coming days – especially Arafah the next day.

On Mina, our group leaders took us to our camp, where men and women were separated into male and female tents. Good companionship is important on this journey (and in life, generally) – so I was fortunate to get a spot next to one of my wife’s relatives, who wasn’t the kind to waste time with gossip or anything negative.

Inside a tent on Mina

As expected, there wasn’t much in the way of comfort. We each got one smallish mattress, one pillow, and one blanket. We were in a ‘special services’ camp – meaning that we were close to the Jamaraat, had our meals provided for us, and had 24 hour access to snacks. Others on Mina weren’t so fortunate, with the worst off being those who had to pitch small tents on the dirty pavements beside the roads. (I’ve been told those were illegal hujjaaj – i.e. they don’t have permits to perform Hajj.)

The toilet situation wasn’t too pleasant, but I’d expected that. There were cubicles of Eastern toilets that doubled as showers, plus two Western toilets. In all honesty, it was cleaner to use the Eastern versions – since your skin wouldn’t have to touch anything as you squatted).

An Eastern toilet on Mina

Shockingly, the toilet areas also included urinals. I couldn’t believe that the Saudis – being so strictly religious (and therefore, presumably, aware of the hygiene issues) – would put these disgusting fixtures here on this holy ground, for the holiest journey of a Muslim’s life. To make things worse, the sinks for washing up included scented soap – which is obviously not allowed in ihraam. I had come prepared – bringing my own unscented soap – so it wasn’t a problem for me, but I feel sorry for those who had to do a number 2 and then find out that they weren’t allowed to use the only soap available.

Wandering on Mina

Despite it being a Friday, there was no Jumuah for us (it isn’t required for those on Hajj). So, aside from the fardh salaahs, there wasn’t much else to do. The top priority for everyone was to rest so that we’d have strength for Arafah the next day. Some recited Quran, others made dua (or wrote their dua lists – at this late stage), some slept, and others socialized or munched on snacks.

Inside a tent on on the first day of Hajj

Though I’m a junk food addict, I managed to restrain myself for much of the day. I found that keeping busy in beneficial activities helped keep my mind off the temptations, and it was only when I allowed myself to get bored that my will was broken. It may seem trivial, but for me, it was a simple but important lesson that I hoped to take forward.

Our group had a few talks that day, but – as had been the habit in Aziziah – they also included a musical session, wherein some of the naat singers in the group did their thing. I’m not into music, so I hated it. (Sidenote: for a superb discussion of music in Islam, read “Slippery Stone” by Khalid Baig.) I understand that this kind of thing is big in Cape Town and in the Indian community, but to me, this was purely cultural, and was definitely NOT a spiritual activity. I literally fled – not wanting this mockery to put a damper on what should have been a day of personal reflection.

Inside a camp at Mina

I wandered around the camp, trying to find a quiet spot away from the noise to engage in personal ibadah. Yet I found no place of solitude. So I drifted from tent to tent, listening in on lectures that the other Hajj groups were having.

While my group’s choice of activity was frustrating, it drove me to a good experience in witnessing the variety in the camp.

Death’s dress rehearsal

While I’d spent some time in ibadah that day, I’d also used some of my time to take in the experience – and found it was a poignant reminder of death. The tent was quite cramped, with everyone lined up in rows – space just sufficient for each person. That’s exactly how a graveyard is laid out. Additionally, we were all wrapped in our ihraams – similar to the white cloths we’ll be wrapped in when we die.

The nakedness in the tent also struck me: men – myself included – slept, lay, or sat – topless. Although I’m self-conscious about that kind of thing, it reminded me of Qiyamah – when we’ll ALL be naked. Totally naked – with no separation between men and women. Yet we won’t care about it at that point, because we’ll have much greater concerns. Can you image the states we’ll be in on that day? How terrifying it will be, how anxious we’ll be about our destinations, and how immense the events of that day will be.

The bareness in that tent reminded me of the bareness on Qiyammah – highlighting the point that it’s not the external appearance that counts in this life. It’s what’s inside. It’s the state of the heart that’ll determine our condition that Day.

I prayed that the day on Mina, and the Hajj itself, would put me and all the other hujjaaj on the road to a clean and pure heart (Qalb-us saleem) – which would, insha-Allah, secure us the best possible condition when we stand waiting for our Books of Judgement.

We’re often forgetful about death, the grave, the resurrection, and final judgement. But that tent on Mina gave me a glimpse into that future, and a reminder that – while we’re still alive – we have abundant chances to change our ways and secure our future, before our personal Hereafter begins at the moment of death.

Coming up next, insha-Allah: The day of Arafah

Related lessons:

• Try not to be late when your group leaves for Mina. Psychologically, you don’t want to feel flustered at the very start of such an immense experience.
• If possible, try to get good companionship in your tent – especially your immediate neighbours. Try to be with those that will encourage you to do beneficial things, and avoid those that have a habit of being overly-social, too joking, and inclined towards wasting time.
• Make sure you bring your own unscented soap (and other unscented toiletries you may need). Always take it with you to the toilets, and share it with others if they need it. (Which is why you may want to take extra soap.)
• The toilets may not feel clean, but that doesn’t give you an excuse to be dirty. Always try to be clean, and if you accidently mess an area you shouldn’t, clean it up – as a courtesy to the next person that’ll use that stall.
• Keep yourself occupied with beneficial activities on that day – even if it’s just sleeping, or having spiritual discussions with your neighbours. Don’t allow boredom to overcome you.
• In your tent, let the constriction of your personal space remind you of the grave that awaits you.
• Let the simplicity of ihram clothing remind you of the only material items you’ll take to that grave. What counts most in this life is NOT the external, but what’s inside, and the state of your heart. Strive for a clean and pure heart – which is your ticket to an easier journey to Jannah.
• Allow these thoughts and experiences on Mina to sink deep into your psyche so that they’ll be a lifelong reminder of the Hereafter that awaits you. While you’re alive, you have abundant chances to improve your position with your Lord. Use these opportunities while you can.

• Walk around your camp and enjoy the experience of being among other Hajj groups and people of different nationalities.

What happened next?

Later parts in this series will be added at this link, insha-Allah.

Image sources: All pictures taken by me, except “MAlShareef_8thDH” (by Muhammad Al-Shareef), “MinaTents_z” and “MinaToilet_z” (sources unknown).

Isra and Mi’raj (for dummies)

In honour of tomorrow night’s blessed occasion of the Prophet Muhammad S.A.W.’s miraculous night journey and ascension (Isra and Mi’raj), masjids worldwide will commemorate it by holding a special programme. Remember that there are no special acts of worship specified for this occasion – so take what benefit you can from those programmes, but don’t let yourself feel that this is a compulsory act of worship.

In addition to those, here are two enlightening resources which serve as an education and a reminder for us all.

1. Lecture:

Isra and Mi’raj: A talk by Shaykh Hussain Abdul Sattar (Chicago, USA) – 87 minutes (Right click and choose “Save As” to download MP3)

2. Infographic:

Courtesy of Islamographic.com

 

Hajj Chronicles Part 20: Reflections before the big day

Previous posts in this series: Parts 1 to 19

Entrance to the haram in Makkah

Going home

The same day we climbed to the cave of Hira, we spontaneously decided to go back to the haram in Makkah for Maghrib and Esha. Just the travel there and back was an adventure on its own – including 2 busses each way, being stranded at our former Makkah hotel, a Turkish lady taking my seat on the bus, and waiting in a deserted, dusty parking lot for our shuttle – which seemed to magically appear when we needed it.

It was also challenge for me physically, because I was operating that whole day on 3 hours of sleep. I was tired even before Maghrib, but held on to make the salaah before drifting off into a beautiful, relaxing, and merciful sleep.

Being back in Makkah was nostalgic. I hadn’t fully appreciated it while we were staying there, but now that it was no longer home, I missed it. The familiar sights and sounds of the haram, Ajyad Street, and the crowds all drew me in – making me long to return to what was once home, but would never again be mine. It was a valuable life lesson: appreciate your comforts and surroundings while you have them, because life will move on sooner or later, and you will lose them.

Reflections

The week in Aziziah wasn’t too eventful, but it did provide much-needed time for seclusion, self-reflection, and rest. One of my realisations revolved around how different, and beautiful, this Arabian society was. I’m not saying that all the people were perfect in character, nor that the politics or social trends of Saudi Arabia are admirable. Those are issues for a different discussion. What I mean is, my weeks in the country up to then culminated in the realisation that – despite the flaws – this was an environment and society based on Islam – and I loved it, because it was so natural, and such a huge change from the Western society I’d spent my whole life in.

Here, there was no ideological warfare with blind atheists, arrogant secularists, or misguided worshippers of idols and humans. Everyone knew and believed in the truth of Islam, and we all had the same ultimate ambitions for Jannah. To not be surrounded by such kufr gives you space to focus more intensely on your own soul and relationship with Allah.

In terms of action, people would take time in their ibadah, and would turn everyday situations – like waiting in line at the shop – into opportunities for dhikr. Salaah was central to life – with the day’s schedule revolving around salaah times, and people making the effort to pray – rather than making excuses to miss it. They’d take their musallahs with them and when it was salaah time, they’d pray – out in the open, without self-consciousness. Common folks – like drivers and shopkeepers – would carry their Qurans with them and recite in their shops. If customers couldn’t pay for an item, shopkeepers would let them take it anyway – trusting they’d come back and pay later. Women would dress modestly and cover properly – eliminating the nakedness we’re so used to in Western societies. And on an unprecedented scale (for me at least), men were respectful towards women.

It got me thinking about da’wah on a wider level. Da’wah is primarily important because it invites to Islam – which is what will save each and every individual from eternal failure. But on a wider level, da’wah also benefits the society and the environment – because Islam naturally brings honour and beauty to the communities it dwells within (or at least, it does when it’s practiced correctly). So, while the people in Madinah, Makkah, and Aziziah weren’t all perfect in terms of Islamic character and conduct, being in their society felt so much more natural than our Western societies back home – because the very foundation of that environment was the deen of Islam.

The challenge of tomorrow

Another reflection stemmed from the timing of this trip. At that point, I was 30 years old, and the elders had often remarked about how good it is to go when you’re young. But I didn’t feel “young”. Like I’ve said before, life hasn’t been “too short” for me – because I feel old beyond my years. So now, at this milestone age of 30, I was about to embark on the experience I hoped would define the rest of my life – however much longer that would be.

In addition to that, it was also 10 years since my life changed – meaning that the catalyst had come a decade earlier, and then Allah had used the next 10 years to mould me, refine me, and prepare me for this – the most important journey and event of my life.

And on this journey, perhaps it would be easy to wish for death after the main event – Arafah – was complete. To die right after Arafah means you leave this world in a state of absolute purity – with all sins having been forgiven, thereby making your journey to the Hereafter easier, and your Eternity one free of the consequences of the sins and mistakes you’d accumulated in life.

I wasn’t too attached to the material things of this world, so an ending like that would seem tempting. But I didn’t want it.

Why? Mostly, for my daughter. My parents and others in my life would cope without me. But if my daughter lost me at the age of two, it would have had a huge impact on her. I had missed her tremendously on this trip, and I wanted to go back to her after Hajj – to be her father: to spend time with her; to help her grow up, to teach her and help mould her to the awesome person I pray she’ll become.

And for myself, I viewed the rest of my life as a challenge and an opportunity: the challenge to live this Hajj for the rest of my life, and the opportunity to improve my own life and make an impact on others and this world. If I died, I wouldn’t get the chance to take on that challenge, and my impact on the world wouldn’t go beyond whatever I‘d already achieved in my life up to that point.

Final preparation

The last days before Hajj weren’t as spiritual as I hoped, but it gave us the chance to speak to our loved ones. It also gave me the chance to send one last email to a very special group of people back home; people who I respect and admire very much. Physically, I was so far away from them, but throughout this trip, they’d been in my thoughts and in my duas, and this was my last chance to convey a special message to them before I embarked on the biggest five days of my life.

The final Hajj class also left me with one enduring and most critical piece of advice – which was a reminder I’d written at the top of my Hajj preparation list:

“…The best of provisions is taqwa…” (Surah al-Baqarah verse197)

For everything I would be facing, I had to remember it was all for Allah. Everything difficulty, every sacrifice, every challenge that required patience…the thought I had to CONSTANTLY keep in mind was: “this is for Allah”.

That was it.

Coming up next, insha-Allah: Youm-al-Tarwiyyah – the first day on Mina

Related lessons:

• Appreciate your comforts and surroundings while you have them, because life will move on sooner or later, and you will lose them.
• Despite the flaws in the society, it’s refreshing to be in an environment that has Islam at its base. We don’t experience that in Western countries, so appreciate it when you’re over there, and make dua that one day, the beauty of Islam will come to be at the very core of the society you live in back home.
• Going back home after Hajj presents you with a challenge and an opportunity – both of which must be embraced. The challenge is to live your Hajj until you die, and the opportunity is to make a greater impact on the world.
• In your final moments before leaving for Mina, reach out to your loved ones. Take advantage of the strong emotions in your heart and convey to them the beauty of what you feel, inspiring them to make this trip, and asking them to make special duas for you in the coming days.
• One of the most important thoughts to bear in mind on the 5 days is to remain conscious of Allah at all times. Taqwa is your best provision, and all that you’ll face is for Allah.

What happened next?

Later parts in this series will be added at this link, insha-Allah.

Image source: Opening picture.

Fair fight?

Source

Hajj Chronicles – Part 19: Ascension

Previous posts in this series: Parts 1 to 18

Education

As stated last time, Aziziah was a place where we hoped to disconnect from comforts and prepare ourselves for the biggest 5 days of our lives. It was also the place where our tour group finally kicked in with Islamic programmes. Up to that point, I’d been highly disappointed by the relative lack of lectures, classes, and other spiritually-uplifting activities offered.

We’d specifically chosen our Hajj group because of the top-notch ulama they take with them, and I had expected a journey like this to be full of inspirational lectures and activities that would help get our hearts and minds into the states they’d need to be in for Hajj. But it wasn’t to be. My favourite alim didn’t even make it there (due to visa issues), and such events were minimal in our Madinah and Makkah stays. It was only now, with a week to go, that everything went into full swing – with 3 activities per day, including a choice of different Hajj classes (one for Hanafis and one for Shafis).

Our schedule in Aziziah

The only small inconvenience was that none of the activities were in our building – they were in the other two that our group occupied. But that was a small price to pay for the knowledge and benefit on offer. (And it also gave me an unusual adventure in trying to find one of the buildings one night.)

Iqra

Before receiving prophethood, Muhammad (s.a.w.) used to often spend his time in seclusion – in a cave at the top of Jabal Nur (the mountain of light – also known as Mount Hira). It was here that everything began – Angel Jibreel (a.s.) coming to him with the first words of Quran to be revealed to humanity:

“Read! in the name of your Lord who created.
He created man from a clot.
Read, and your Lord is the Most Honorable
who taught with the pen,
taught man what he did not know.”

(Translation of the meaning – Surah Al-Alaq, verses 1-5)

Those visiting Makkah have an opportunity to literally follow the footsteps of the Messenger (s.a.w.) – by climbing that same mountain, and spending some time in that same cave of Hira (despite the discouragement of the Saudi authorities – as mentioned previously).

Jabbal Nur from the base

Because of the heat, our tour group did the climb in the early morning – before Fajr. I didn’t have the best preparation for the climb – attending a lecture the night before and only sleeping after 12PM. But I wasn’t going to miss this chance, and I knew that the benefit of sleep lies not in sleeping a certain number of hours – but in the barakah Allah puts in your sleep. So I made dua for barakah in that sleep, and Alhamdullilah – I was fine and able to function for that morning, when I needed the physical strength for the hike.

We gathered downstairs at 3AM, walked to meeting point, then waited a long while for everyone to arrive and everything to be sorted out. In such group situations, there’ll always be people delaying the group – so prepare for this and remember not to complain about them, but to have sabr and use the waiting time beneficially.

Then came the bus drive to the foot of the mountain, and we started our ascent just before 4AM. It was incredibly steep at first, but manageable – even with the heavy backpack I had to carry. Just like our Arafah visit earlier, we again encountered many beggars with deformed limbs. They’d recite basic things – like “Allah; Jannah” and make duas for us to have an accepted Hajj.

Another prominent feature of the climb was the sheer amount of rubbish we saw strewn on and off the path. Humans are such dirty creatures – leaving garbage at tourist spots – even in these holy sites. It’s so sad that Muslims, who are supposed to maintain cleanliness as ‘half of faith’ – can be so, so dirty, and so cruel to the environment.

But we should have expected that: Makkah was dirty, and we were warned that the days of Hajj would be dirty too.

The state of this sign tells you what many visitors think of its message.

Lots of space in this bin

A sure sign that humans have been here

Reaching the summit

The climb got easier as we got higher, and we encountered vendors selling refreshments, tourist souvenirs, and even one selling these:

Connecting people

At the top, it was confusing knowing what was what. There was a confined space to climb through, and we thought that was the cave – but it was only a passageway to it. We got through that, then stood at the mouth of the cave, where a small crowd had already gathered.

It was here that the adhaan went off from the many masjids down below. I’d been told of how beautiful it was to hear it from up there – but I couldn’t fully enjoy the moment because my attention was focussed on getting into the cave, which only held 2 people at a time. There were foreigners up there with our group, and I feared the now-common ‘ignore-the-queue-and-push-to-the-front’ attitude from them.

We waited a long time, and made wudu there using our spray bottles (discreetly – I don’t think anyone even noticed). But with so many people waiting to go in, and more coming, I wanted to just give up and leave. After all, we might have ended up missing Fajr if we kept waiting – and this cave, despite its significance, did not take priority over a fardh salaah.

We came all the way up, yet it seemed we wouldn’t make it to the main attraction. But one of our group members changed all that for me. He was adamant that he’d go in. He didn’t come all this way from Cape Town, and climb this far, to give up. If we had to wait, we would. I was inspired by his persistence and decided to stick it out; while still making dua that we wouldn’t miss Fajr.

So we waited in a queue – us South Africans plus a few foreigners. Tempers flared when one of them fell out of line, and a fight almost broke out. Alhamdullilah – calm heads prevailed, and he backed down, eventually leaving without even going into the cave. But it again highlighted the aggression that seems to be more prominent in Makkah – where even the sacredness of the place doesn’t subdue such negative raw human emotion. (If you’re ever in such a situation, learn the ‘sabr’ hand sign…it’s something that we all can understand, regardless of home language J.)

As for this cave, it seems many people think it’s sunnah to make 2 rakaats of non-obligatory salaah inside. This is obviously not the case, since – apparently – after he became a Prophet, Muhammad s.a.w. didn’t go back to this cave. There’s no sunnah salaah of the cave – as the Saudi authorities would readily tell you – it’s bi’dah. One of the foreigners waiting with us said the same. Regardless, everyone was making salaah in there.

When our turn came, my wife’s wisdom shone through. I was uneasy about the type of salaah to make in there, but my wife eliminated the problem by saying we should make our Fajr in there, and do nothing else since others were waiting to get in.

One of the apparent miracles of the cave is that it directly faces the Kabah – so it’s easy to make salaah there (though it is cramped). We went in and made our Fajr – but bearing the other people in mind, I couldn’t truly enjoy it as I had to be quick. Still though, it was the experience of a lifetime: to be in that same confined space where my Prophet s.a.w. – and the arch angel Jibreel a.s. were….it was amazing.

Taking in the scene

The cherry on top came afterwards, when we got away from the crowd and were able to sit on top of the cave for a while. If you’ve experienced the solitude of a mountain top before, or a sunrise without any distractions of day-to-day life, you may be able to imagine the experience. This was a combination of the two: high above Makkah, with a view of the city, the haram (and the infamous clock tower), and the early morning silhouettes of those incredible mountains all around.

It was exceptionally serene. Just calm, peaceful, and a moment to savour for the rest of my life. Experiences like that make me yearn for Jannah – the desire to have a place like that all to myself, without anybody else to disturb the mood, and no time limits or logistical considerations to prematurely end the beauty of the moment.

But all good things must end, and we soon had to make our way down the mountain. In the early light, we saw wildlife that we hadn’t seen on the way up – including a family of monkeys, and this little kitty:

He seemed to be sleeping, yet he sat up

But the highlight of the descent was undoubtedly the sunrise. No matter how many times I watch this tremendous miracle of Allah, I’m always amazed at how quickly the sun moves from below the horizon to high up in the sky – from infancy to towering strength, spreading its light and warmth across the vastness of the Earth. It’s a sight I see far too rarely, so having the experience on this most-important journey made it all the more special.

Back at the foot of the mountain, my fatigue finally caught up with me, and after enjoying the last few moments there, we headed back to the bus – then our room – where I collapsed in exhaustion.

The neighbourhood at the base of the mountain

This giant tasbeeh was on sale at the foot of the mountain

Coming up next, insha-Allah: The build-up to Hajj

Related lessons:

• When it comes to sleep, scientists and commentators may insist we need between 6 and 8 hours per night. But Allah is in control of everything – sleep included. So if you don’t get that many hours, it won’t matter – as long as you have barakah in that sleep. Make it a habit to ask Allah for barakah in your sleep – whether you get a full night’s rest or not.
• In tour groups, there’ll always be some people that delay the group. Expect this, and remember not to complain about them, but to have sabr and use the waiting time beneficially.
• In general – and especially when you’re in nature – respect the environment and don’t litter. Cleanliness is half of faith, so make a conscious effort to be clean – even if others around you are not.
• If you can make it to the top at the time of Fajr adhaan, try to saviour the experience of hearing the many adhaans from down below.
• Whenever you’re touring, always take a spray bottle and enough water for wudu. You may not always have a tap around (such as at the top of the mountain), and in any case, using a spray bottle is tremendously water-efficient.
• Don’t ever miss your fardh salaah for a ziyarah place / tourist attraction. In worldly terms, you may feel regret at missing out – but in the Hereafter, your regret will be much greater. If you’re in a jam, make dua and do your best – always remembering that salaah comes first.
• If tempers flare, don’t get caught up in the emotion of one / a group’s wrongdoing. If you must be involved, try to be a peace-maker. There’s no benefit in fighting with others. (And learn the ‘sabr’ hand sign.)
• There’s no sunnah salaah for the cave. Make your fardh salaah if it’s time, or make dua instead. Or maybe just make an extra salaah – but being very clear in your mind that you’re NOT doing it under the impression that it’s a sunnah.
• When you get in, do what you need to, and savour the moment. But don’t take too long if there are others waiting. We’d all love to spend a long time in there, but it’s inconsiderate to deprive or delay others unnecessarily – so give others a chance too. (The same concept applies in any place that’s in high demand – such as the Rawda in Madinah.)
• When you’re done, don’t be in a rush to get back down again. Spend as much time as you can above the cave / near the top – taking in the scenery and the experience. You can’t get this anywhere else in the world, and you may never get this chance again, so enjoy it while you can.

What happened next?

Later parts in this series will be added at this link, insha-Allah.

Image sources: All pictures taken by me.
Note: Title for this post borrowed from here.

A thousand words: Freedom

Grafitti on Israel’s apartheid wall

Image source here, and related article here.

Hajj Chronicles Part 18: Joke’s on you

Previous posts in this series: Parts 1 to 17

Our welcome gift in Aziziah

It’s not about the feelings

During our stay in Makkah, our last tawaaf right near the Kabah came a few nights before we left. I hated it. It was so full and uncomfortable that my focus was not on dua, dhikr, or spiritual thoughts – but on the difficulty and unpleasantness of the experience. But it reminded me of a crucial lesson in Islam: we don’t worship feelings.

You see, in ibadah, it’s amazing to have the beautiful feelings of peace, contentment, and an emotional connection to Allah. But such things are not pre-requisites for acceptance of the deeds, and even though they feel good, our feelings shouldn’t be our motivator for those acts of worship.

In Islam, we don’t worship our feelings. We worship Allah. And this applies in all conditions and states of mind and heart – even when we’re distracted and spiritually weak. So I took this experience as a reminder I need to always live by.

Leaving Makkah

On the 1^st of Dhul Hijjah, rocketing hotel prices prompt many hujjaaj to leave Makkah and spend the last week before Hajj in Aziziah – which is a nearby suburb. And on our last night before leaving, we got up at 12.30AM for the final tawwaf of our stay there. With Jumuah just hours away, and the prospect of chaos since we’d be leaving that afternoon, it felt crazy, but we had to do it. Logic said to just rest and sleep. But this was our last chance, so logic lost the argument.

The mataaf was too full, so we went to the roof for tawaaf. It took much longer, but it was much more peaceful and gave me the time and space to enjoy and take benefit from the experience.

Then came a few hours of sleep, followed by the morning rush in which we left 3 hours early for Jumuah. We spent that long waiting time in the masjid – making dua, reading, and doing other beneficial activities. (Tip: If you really can’t stand the heat, get a spot in the airconditioned basement. You don’t see much, but at least you keep cool.) The sheer length of waiting time again reminded me of how – back home – I need to make more effort to be early in the masjid (for all salaahs – not just Jumuah), and not let laziness and distractions deprive me of the blessings of being early.

We were to leave the hotel after Jumuah, but, predictably, there were some delays – so we had time to get some lunch (which was amazingly cheap yet still tasty J). Finally, we got onto our bus and made the journey to our new home: Aziziah.

Back to reality

At different points of the journey, our group leaders joked about the systematic decline in the standard of accommodation for the trip. Five star in Madinah, four star in Makkah, no star in Aziziah, then all the stars in Muzdalifah.

Seeing our room in Aziziah confirmed that it was no joke. The place was kind of like a hostel, and actually reminded me of a prison in some ways: the bright lights inside, the confined space, and an incredibly small bathroom (though if you live in London, you may have used something similarly small).

We got these very thin slippers, saying “Warmly welcome” – courtesy of China Tourism. China Tourism also provided other material, like the soaps. And we’d been warned that the toilet pipes were small – which meant this sign wasn’t too much of a surprise:

An ominous warning

Since we couldn’t stomach the thought (or smell) of throwing used toilet paper into the bin, frequent flushing was a better alternative.

The bathroom space was…well, “economical”. If you sat on the toilet, your legs would be in the shower. And with a largely ineffective shower curtain, you’d be sure to wet the floor with every shower. But, sensibly, the hosts provided a mop, and there was a drain outlet on the bathroom floor.

The geyser was above the toilet (and it was secure enough to not fall on our heads , and the sink was unusually big – almost the same area as the shower cubicle’s floor space. Additionally, we got one (unclean) towel, which ended up being our floor towel (and we used my spare ihraam as bath towels).

The room and more

The room itself was decently-sized. It housed an old airconditioner, one window, a large table, no cupboards, 2 single beds, and a mirror. Outside, we shared a small, communal kitchen with our neighbours.

All in all, it kind of reminded me of a dingy hotel room in New York. But we were in no position to be picky. We weren’t here for luxury, and we sure weren’t getting any in this place .

Downstairs, the eating hall was also comical – with ceilings so low you’d have to bend to avoid hitting your head in some places (as one unfortunate person soon learned).

Meal times further reinforced the prison-like atmosphere: our Indian hosts would lay out the food (almost always curry or another Indian dish), each person dished out in a plastic carton, took their bottle of (warm) water, then sat at a table and ate.

After my first meal, I went to wash my hands at the nearby sink. The dispensers on the wall said “Shampoo” and “Conditioner” – but both were empty, so I used the Nivea tube on the sink – thinking it was at least some kind of cleaning liquid.

It wasn’t. It turned out to be coconut oil – and I only realised it when I was already washing my hands. And so, my first dining experience in Aziziah ended with a full stomach, and coconut-smelling hands.

With first impressions like these, you’d think I’d want a refund from the Hajj operator – given the high price of this accommodation. But that wasn’t the case at all. Despite the shortcomings, this place had a simplicity that perfectly fitted our purpose for that period.

In the lead-up to Hajj, we needed to divorce ourselves from luxury, cleanse ourselves of worldly attachments, and prepare – wholeheartedly – for the coming 5 days. And our Aziziah accommodation – free of the comfort and distractions of Makkah and Madinah – seemed to be an ideal setting for that.

Coming up next, insha-Allah: Jabbal Nur

Related lessons:

• In acts of worship, when things aren’t going your way and you’re not feeling “into it” – remember that you’re not doing it for the feelings. You’re doing it for the sake of Allah. So persevere and make dua for an improvement in the situation, but remember that we don’t worship feelings – we worship Allah.
• For any salaah –but especially Jumuah –if you can’t stand the heat, go early and try to get a spot in the airconditioned basement. But, because there’s not much to see, make sure you take your Quran, dua list, or other things to do.
• In Makkah and Madinah, it becomes necessary to be at the masjid early for each salaah. Take advantage of that waiting time, and make it a long-term reminder too: that back home, you should also try to be early to the masjid.
• These days, the comforts of shopping malls and luxury hotels can really distract you from your purpose on this journey – which isn’t ideal preparation for Hajj. If you’re able to, right before the 5 days, try to get some simple accommodation that’ll be conducive to Hajj preparation.
• If you manage to get such lodging, look past the faults and focus on cleansing yourself of worldly attachments, and preparing your heart, mind, and body for the upcoming days.
• On a practical note, if your lodging has small toilets, be economical with the toilet paper, and flush frequently – rather than throwing used toilet paper in the bin. It may seem like a waste of water, but hygiene comes before convenience.
• Also on the practical side, when you’re not sure what’s in a soap dispenser or cosmetic tube, always pour a little out first. Don’t be deceived by labels – lest you end up with oily, coconut-smelling hands

What happened next?

Later parts in this series will be added at this link, insha-Allah.

Image sources: Both pictures taken by me

Hajj Chronicles Part 17: Memories for the heart

Previous posts in this series: Parts 1 to 16

The crowning moment

I’ve heard that everyone gets a ‘moment’ in Makkah – some special experience where they receive inspiration, or some kind of epiphany. On one of our last mornings there, mine came.

For fajr that morning, I’d managed to get to my usual 4^th floor spot of the masjid. After fajr, while waiting to make Ishraaq salaah (just after sunrise), I made a conscious effort to observe my surroundings: the birds above, the many people sitting, sleeping, taking pictures, making dua, or just looking at the Kabah. The most heart-warming sight was an Indonesian couple laying nearby, asleep – facing each other. It was awesome to see the love and mercy of marriage manifested right there –on this blessed rooftop where couples and families often spent time together.

After sunrise, I made my ishraaq salaah, and before leaving, decided to take a look at the Kabah. The mataf area was full of people doing tawwaf; the entire floor covered in this wheel of humanity, revolving around Allah’s House. I looked up a level, and it was the same on the next floor. Again, I looked up another level, and the same sight on the roof.

I’d seen it before, but this time, it struck me in a new way. For some reason, this moment was incredibly awe-inspiring, and the whole experience just brought tears to my eyes. Allah was enabling me to witness His sign – right there.

The ‘sign’ was hope and a positive perspective. You see, back home – and in much of the world today – it seems we’re in a hopeless situation. My perception is that society is going backwards – corrupted and in tremendous moral decline; given to hedonism, materialism, competition, ungratefulness, cruelty, and rising atheism and hostility towards people of faith.

But here, in front of my eyes, Allah was showing me otherwise. Despite those perceptions I had, there was still so much good. Here in front of me were tens of thousands of people – walking so slowly in this physically-uncomfortable ritual, so dedicated and in such recognition of Allah’s love and mercy. And this was only a small fraction of the ummah. Given the chance, I’m sure that hundreds of millions of Muslims – if not every single one – would jump at the chance to be down there, in that tawwaf.

And despite the sectarian, ideological, and racial differences, everyone was united. Everyone was unified by this one act of walking around one structure – one building, which is a symbol of One Allah. One Creator. One religion. One humanity. One.

Our world today is so overcome by negativity, and so flooded by troubling news of suffering and corruption – yet these few moments took me away from all of that and showed me the good that still exists. And because people like this – this ummah – still exists today, this world isn’t in such a bad state. It isn’t totally hopeless. And it never will be, because we, the people of Allah’s ultimate truth – Islam – will always be here, even in the worst of times, when Dajjal rules over the planet.

Jam-packed tawaaf during Hajj season 2011

It didn’t stop there, though – the moment took me further. I remembered the ‘arsh of Allah being directly above the Kabah, so I looked up to that area. SubhanAllah…circling above the Kabah was a group of birds. And despite the freedom and space they had, they didn’t spread out wide. They flew only above the Kabah.

This was their fitrah. They had to know the greatness of that spot. The animals, trees, and all of nature – they all know Allah and glorify Him (Surah 17, verse 44). And we humans also know. It’s in our natural fitrah. Despite what we learn from our societies and what directions we take in life – even atheism – our innate nature knows Allah…just like those birds know.

If only we could stop, occasionally, to observe these creatures and be reminded of the fitrah which still lays buried within us – under the layers and layers of spiritual dirt we accumulate in our lives.

Speaking to the heart

During our final tawwaf before leaving for Aziziah, we walked by a man in sujood. He was sobbing uncontrollably, and his sincerity and emotion reminded me of similar scenes I’d witnessed in Madinah. I thought of how he, and others like him, are so humbled by being here. Perhaps they’d done such tremendous wrongs in their lives, and now they come here, begging their Maker for forgiveness and a fresh start.

His level of intensity spoke to my heart because of the common bond I have with him and others like him: we are all just powerless, error-prone humans that live our lives heedless of Allah. We transgress, make mistakes, and try to correct ourselves – but we fail and fall back into error, again and again and again. Yet Allah is so merciful that He gives us chance after chance to come back. He awakens regret in our hearts and allows us to repent and return to Him – even though He knows we’ll again falter after this.

Unless you live in extreme circumstances, it’s rare to witness such emotion: to see the tears and pleading of grown men – perfectly humbled and fully aware that no one and nothing can help them except their Maker.

Seeing this is an incredible reminder of the reality we so often forget. In truth, no matter how comfortable or trouble-free our lives seem to be, we are all in the same position as that man. We all have this tremendously-deep need of Allah. And while the veils of this worldly life may distort our perception of that, on the Last Day, we will see it as clear as the sun. So while we have the chance in this life, we should discard all attributes of arrogance, ward off all illusions of being self-sufficient, and beg our Creator to help us see things as they really are – see the reality of who we are, and how much we need Him.

Coming up next, insha-Allah: Farewell, Makkah

Related lessons:

• In the haram – particularly on the roof levels – remember to take in your surroundings. Observe the people and what’s going on, and look for beautiful sights that your heart will remember for a lifetime after you leave Makkah.
• If you ever need a reminder that this ummah is strong, and that there are still so many people in this world that take their deen and connection to Allah seriously, remember the packed tawaafs you witnessed in Makkah.
• And if the sects and divisions of the ummah get you down, again remember those tawaafs – which prove the unity that’s still possible despite our differences.
• Every single human has a natural recognition of the truth of Allah – whether they choose to accept it or not, even if they’ve buried it under years of heedlessness and sin. Be aware of this fitrah, and remember that we can all return to it if we try, insha-Allah.
• When you see grown men crying and witness the desperate duas of fellow pilgrims, take it as a reminder of your own insignificance, your own complete helplessness, and your own complete need of Allah for every single thing in your life – whether big or small. Remember that even if you don’t feel the same right now, a Day will come when you will feel that way. So use your life on Earth wisely so that, when you reach that Day, you’ll be in the best possible position before your Lord.

What happened next?

Later parts in this series will be added at this link, insha-Allah.

Image sources: Opening picture taken by me; tawaaf picture by Dr Z. Parker.

Champions again

Congratulations to Manchester United, who have secured their 20th league title after last night’s win against Aston Villa. Love them or hate them, there’s no denying that it really is a club with something special – to have won so many titles in the last 25 years.

Predictably, the Liverpool (and other) fans will be eagerly awaiting the day that Sir Alex retires, but when that time comes, we’ll just see how your teams fare…

Mister Y’s mysteries (part 8): Crossing over

At South African traffic lights*, why does the green light stay on for such a short time for pedestrian crossings? It’s only green for a few seconds before it turns red again – which is usually not enough time for the average person  to cross the road. The light then flashes red for quite a while longer – even though cars must still remain stationary (since the light is still red for them).

Is it a cruel joke to encourage people to run across roads? Or did the initial designers just grossly miscalculate the timing?

Is it like this in other countries too?

* In South Africa, we call our traffic lights “robots”. Apparently, that amuses people from other countries.