Middle Eastern tradition is particularly kind to guests.
Those who visit any house in the region can expect the host to be gracious and welcoming, and make a point of looking after the guest. Even those with little to offer, will offer all they have.
So what happens when you have more than two-and-a-half-million guests coming to your house?
I feel a certain sympathy for the people of Saudi Arabia. The world is quick to judge, and particularly to criticize them, but few people readily praise the effort the Kingdom makes in welcoming pilgrims to the Haj.
"We like to think of them as the 'Guests of God'", said Dr. Zamel Abuzinada, the man who heads up the Ministry of Information department controlling media access to the Haj, "Therefore, we have to treat them as guests. They are very special to us."
Dr. Zamel is one of those who help journalists from around the world find their way through the maze of Haj coverage. Many news crews arrive for the first time not knowing what to expect, let alone where to go and how to negotiate the incredible crowd gathered in Makkah. Without help, covering the Haj would be a tough assignment.
"We want you to see what's going on. We want you to tell the world," he says enthusiastically, eyes wide and beaming from behind his spectacles."The media normally wants only bad news, so we want you to report the good news going on here."
Dr. Zamel is still smiling sincerely as he reminds this journalist in front of him how narrow-minded his industry can be. True, the media does jump quickly on reporting any problems, and rarely trumpets what is something of an annual miracle in Makkah.
Admittedly, the Haj is never going to be perfect. Things can't run absolutely flawlessly. Not when a massive number of people from every corner of the earth descend upon a small desert town for about one week every year.
The Haj is a cacophony of languages, colors, ethnicities, traditions and attitudes. But what holds it together is the common goal: An audience with God.
They have come to have their chance to stand before the Almighty and ask forgiveness for all their sins. If their Haj is accepted, they will be “reborn”, and leave Makkah with the spiritual purity of a baby. It’s a chance to get on the fast track to heaven.
When I first heard a pilgrim use the expression “May your Haj be accepted”, I was a little confused.
What do you mean “accepted”?
I thought it was automatic.
Not so. A person performing the Haj has to follow certain rules, certain rituals, and — above all — go with pure intent.
It’s not right for a pilgrim to lose their temper, or have bad thoughts, or treat another with ill feelings.
That’s hardly the spirit of a person who wants to be forgiven their sins. So, a Haj has to be accepted as being performed properly and with a pure heart.
Those of us brought up into Islam often — perhaps usually — assume that it has such strict disciplines it must be a serious religion, where every Muslim must be serious all of the time.
For this reason, when I first went to Makkah, I assumed that the pilgrimage was going to be a somber affair. I expected everyone to be in a quiet and serious mood. Actually, I found that’s not the case. It’s a happy affair. People who make Islam’s holy journey are overjoyed to be there. Many of them have saved up all their lives to fulfill this special obligation which requires every Muslim to make the pilgrimage at least once in their life, if they are able. Haj is, of course, one of the five pillars of Islam. Unlike, belief in God, fasting, prayer, and zakat (charitable donations), the Haj requires a special effort. It takes planning. Plus, it is a calling from the Almighty.
In the past, these Guests of God didn’t have the advantage of airplanes or motorized transportation. They took boats, camels, and even came across the desert on foot. They risked being attacked by bandits, assaulted by inclement weather, heat and exhaustion, just to fulfill their journey of a lifetime.
So, naturally, most of the pilgrims winding their way through the streets of Makkah have a sparkle in their eyes. I’ve made it. I’ve arrived in Makkah. It’s written on their faces.
It is such an important place and such an important event to Muslims that there are many elderly pilgrims who even pray they might be blessed enough to leave this earth during their time at the Haj. Those who pass away while on this special path are guaranteed a place in heaven.
I met one large South African family who were mourning the loss of their elderly mother.
Three generations had come together, the parents, their children and their grandchildren. They had only been in Makkah for one full day when their lives changed.
Though they were visibly upset, all of them held a serene expression, a look of peace and acceptance at their loss. I asked one of the middle-aged sons how they were coping, and he said, “We are all thanking God that her wish was fulfilled.”
When I looked confused, he added, “She was elderly and ill, and she was desperate to complete her Haj before it was too late. We managed to bring her here and witnessed the joy she felt in finally stepping into God’s House in Makkah.”
His eyes teared up and his voice became a little softer.
“She told us, if I’m to pass away soon, I pray that God takes me into his arms while I’m here.”
There are many who plan to perform the Haj and change their lives in preparation for it. They change the way they live before reaching Makkah, in the hope that they are already on a path to redemption. Relationships are rebuilt, promises are kept, and kindness becomes a more important part of daily life.
Others change while actually on the Haj. They see the House of God with their own eyes and decide that they have to reform there and then. They stop drinking alcohol, remain loyal to a partner, or perhaps make their neglected family a priority. Whatever their folly, they try to put it behind them.
The promise of forgiveness from God is a powerful incentive.
The arrival of modern media has brought the story of the Haj to the wider audience. In many ways, that is a blessing. It means the non-Muslim world can see the positive side of Islam. If such a large gathering of so many diverse people can be so peaceful and harmonious, there is hope for the rest of the world. Television cameras now bring to life the vivid images of this unique event, and the stories of these people are transmitted into homes around the world.
And there are so many stories to be told at the Haj. It can be such a remarkable adventure.
Many of those arriving here have never seen the modern world before — and, believe it or not, Makkah is pretty modern. Apart from the presence of western-style shops selling modern clothing or beauty products, there are five-star hotels and facilities.
Escalators carry pilgrims up from underground walkways directly to the massive tiled forecourt of the Great Mosque which dominates the center of the city. It’s not unusual to see a pilgrim who has obviously come from some small, remote village standing terrified at the prospect of climbing onto metal stairs that move by themselves. The beauty of the Haj is that people help each other. It’s not long before someone will come to support those in need.
Buses and cars travelling in and out of the city will be overflowing with passengers. It’s something of a miracle that people don’t fall off. Wherever possible, pilgrims seem to be helping each other with gentle hands.
People share food. People share water. People share smiles.
They are, after all, the Guest of God — may their Haj be accepted.
