MAKKAH, 3 August 2007 — The tall, steep and dangerous mountains of Makkah are generally uninhabited by Saudis — in fact many of the areas have become what can be best described as enclaves for illegal overstayers, particularly those of African nationalities.
Similar to the mountains close to the Al-Mansour Street of Makkah, Jabal Al-Ghurab (The Crow’s Mountain), which is the fiefdom of an elderly African man known as Sheikh Hassan, is another notorious mountain in the holy city.
Sheikh Hassan, like a mini-king, is said to rule the Africans who live on the mountain, providing them with advice and dabbling in magic. But what is perhaps most iconic about this man is the rumors that at his service he has a huge number of young and beautiful damsels at his beck and call.
The majority of overstayers that live in this part of the city tend to be from Nigeria and Chad. Arab News decided to see if it was possible to meet the legendary Sheikh Hassan. The area resembles a rural African location and is said to be full of magicians, prostitutes and drug dealers — the overall situation of the area leads one to think that one is definitely not in Saudi Arabia. In fact, like other mountainous areas in and around the holy city, Saudi police rarely venture into the area, which has a law of its own, the law of Sheikh Hassan.
This reporter made contact with an African overstayer, who was willing to provide a guide to take him to meet Sheikh Hassan. “Why do you want to visit this dangerous place?” he asked. I told him it was a private issue and that I wanted to meet Sheikh Hassan to seek his help and advice. He then said he would arrange a guide and asked me to meet him at a fixed time and location.
I turned up at the location at the scheduled time and met my friend and the guide. I was told not to speak to people we may meet on our way, and through narrow, rugged and steep alleyways we began climbing the mountain.
On the way, we came across a lane that was a little wider than what we had traversed through earlier. People were sitting on the side with all sorts of herbs and liquids in front of them. “These are magicians, they provide you with magic spells,” said the guide. I pretended I had a problem walking and approached a man, who handed me some medicine for SR2. We continued on our way.
As we climbed further up the mountain, the streets at the bottom looked extremely small and tiny cars could be seen at a distance. I began wondering if I even was in Saudi Arabia. Suddenly we came across a group of African youngsters openly selling drugs in the street. One offered me what seemed like hallucination pills for SR70. “We don’t have that much money, here’s SR10 and let us be,” said the guide. The youngster took the money, which he licked in an erotic fashion, and then moved out of the way.
We continued our tiring walk. On our way I noticed a series of old houses with young women waiting outside. “These are prostitutes waiting for customers. SR10 for a short time,” said our guide with a smile on his face. He clearly knew the prices and the location. There were dozens of such houses with African girls standing outside bartering with their customers, who were also African.
After a strenuous climb we came to the top of the mountain. There in the middle was a large house with a makeshift tent outside. We entered and sitting inside was the legendary Sheikh Hassan, whose fiefdom was the Crow’s Mountain.
African women dressed in a provocative fashion surrounded Sheikh Hassan, who himself was dressed in cream African robes and a matching hat. He was aged around 50 years. His face was wrinkled and his eyes bloodshot. On the side of the tent were a couple of women cooking food. As we entered his tent, my guide refused to move any further as a mark of respect.
I moved forward and greeted Sheikh Hassan, who did not speak Arabic. He asked my guide to translate. “I’m having problems with my wife. I need a solution,” I said. Sheikh Hassan looked at me and told me to come face to face with him. He smelt horrible and I found him alarming.
Like a witchdoctor in a Hollywood movie, he began to shake and utter words I could not understand. He then blew spittle on my face and shook his hands up and down saying strange words. For five minutes he continued like this. Finally, he handed me some liquids and told me to rub them on my wife’s head. I thanked him and was about to leave when he asked for SR500. I dug into my pockets and was about to hand him the money when one of the women passed me a tray. “Put the money in the tray, you’re not allowed to give it to him in his hands. It’s a mark of respect,” said the guide.
I put the money in the tray and left amused that I had just paid SR500 for spit and polish.
