“And proclaim the pilgrimage among men; they will come to you on foot and (mounted) on every kind of camel, lean on the account of journeys through deep and distant mountain highways.” Surah Al Haj; Verse 27
Each year images of Haj and the stories of the — sometimes extreme — privations some of the pilgrims have endured to fulfill their religious duties fill the Arab press.
This year is no exception with the story of Azerbajani Shahid Qurbanov walking 5,000 kilometers from Baku to Makkah over 90 days to perform Haj taking pride of place in the local headlines.
No less inspirational are the less arduous journeys, frequently against odds that wealthier Westerners would shrug off. Some are of simple souls who may well have spent their life savings to achieve their ambition of fulfilling the most important of their religious duties and have fallen foul of sharp Haj agents who left them stranded on the streets of the holy city.
There are many; the vast majority accepts the situation with quiet resolve and simply makes the best of the circumstances they find themselves in, camping under bridges on rude matting and scraping together such sustenance as they can. Few if any complain; their evident quiet joy at being in the holy city among millions of like minded co-religionists is, when it all boils down, the result of simply “being there.”
The sights and stories are in themselves inspirational and show, should any outside the Haram area of Makkah care to observe, a side of Islam and the demonstration of faith that does not normally reach world headlines. After all, this is about peaceful observance of religious duty; no one shooting or bombing anyone. A case perhaps of “good news is no news?”
Come the Hajis do; for the days before the Haj, a constant stream of aircraft slides over Jeddah into the Haj terminal at the airport. The larger car parks in the south and east of the city fill with dusty coaches from Syria, Jordan and even as far away as Russia. Informal dining clubs form in the shade of these huge vehicles as Hajis and drivers alike, eschewing the egregious luxury of the great hotels, break bread and take in the sights.
There is something particularly inspiring and humbling in seeing seriously disabled or elderly and infirm people, many guided by younger relatives, clearly participating in a deeply meaningful spiritual experience. These are so often simple and in the original meaning of the word — unsophisticated — people who are deeply affected by the experience. Seeing them work through the emotions of the religious rituals and realizing that they are the part of the vast majority of Muslims highlights their distance from the brasher and more militaristic brethren with their political agenda.
The Hajis come equipped with an intensity and focus on their religious duties that bring with them the seeds of tragedy. It seems somehow almost churlish of the authorities to impose restrictions, require permits and even arrest pilgrims who do not have the required paperwork. Practical experience from past tragedies clearly demonstrates the necessity for efficient crowd control — but that inescapable fact conflicts with the essential spirit of the Haj; being there.
It is frustrating sitting in an office only 80 or so kilometers from Makkah knowing that I will probably never see or experience this for myself. The best I can expect is to participate in Haj vicariously as a non-Muslim, having some of the excitement, anticipation and, when it is all over, the residual goodwill of Muslim colleagues and friends wash over me as it always does. That and the knowledge that I will never experience “being there.”
