Those of you with ArabSat or NileSat know about the MBC family of channels, Saudi owned but now based in Dubai...
The newest edition, MBC 4, features American shows like Oprah, ABC Nightly News, Jeopardy!, The Bernie Mac Show, Scrubs, as well as reality TV shows like The Biggest Loser, SuperNanny, Joe Millionaire.
Tonight after dinner I was flipping the channels and dropped the remote when I spotted an advertisement for the newest reality show MBC 4 has decided to add to its programming roster: PIMP MY RIDE. Yes, Jordanians can now sit in the comfort of their homes and watch as gangsta rapper Xzibit and hip-hop car detailers turn old dingemobiles into "tricked out" pimpworthy deluxe rides.
Hmmm. Jordanians really need this show for inspiration. Please, come pimp my neighbor's Hyundai Atos!! Uhm, that 1981 Opel Vectra is in need of some hefty pimpin', brothers. Can hardly afford the gas to run them but by golly they're going to be some sweet pimped-out rides.
MBC, what are you all thinking??
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
Monday, October 30, 2006
Be Ye Not Fooled, Oh Snack-Seeking American
I have been seeing these cookies all over town lately, in both small supermarkets and big. The first time I saw the packaging with my peripheral vision, I thought it was a small pack of Chips Ahoy!, that Nabisco classic. But as my eyes drew nearer, I saw the name clearly: Clubin Perfect. If I recall correctly, I laughed out loud. What, pray tell, does Clubin Perfect mean? So I flipped the package over to discover that they are manufactured in Guangdong Province, Hong Kong. I did not pay much attention to them in the stores again until my friend and I were out shopping before Ramadan, and she spotted them as well, and exclaimed, "Clubin Perfect! What kind of a name is that?!?" and we both chuckled.My dear husband loved Chips Ahoy! when we lived in the U.S.; he'd usually down one sleeve of them, and I the other. Tonight I sent him out to the store to get a few items, and he came home with two packs of Clubin Perfect. When I took them out of the bag and recognized the kooky name, I said, "Oh, you must have thought these were Chips Ahoy!" to which he responded affirmatively. Whatever "clubin" refers to, these cookies were neither 'clubin' nor 'perfect.' My kids, however, have no vivid memory of Chips Ahoy!, so they'll dunk the Clubin Perfects in milk without realizing what they're missing.
What made me laugh even more was the tiny exclamation at the bottom left corner of the package: "Nature is Just Health!" Huh? Hong Kong marketing execs could use a few pointers.
Asthmatically Speaking...
Top ten things I miss about the United States:
10. Open the water faucet without fear of this being last time you can wash face for three days.
9. Fall leaves/smell of football season, even though I could care less about football.
8. Cheap cereal
7. Good Chinese food
6. If it's on sale, it's on sale
5. Lots and lots of varieties of yogurt
4. Dr. Pepper in every store
3. Blue Bell Ice Cream, all flavors but especially Birthday Cake flavor
which contains chunks of white cake and icing
2. Public libraries
1. (Drum roll...) Militant anti-smoking policies that are really enforced!
I always knew that people smoked in the states but I honestly never really breathed it or had stinky smoky confrontations on a regular basis. I had friends and family members who smoked but somehow they really never tread on me. If they wanted to smoke, they did the polite thing and went outside, whether in stifling heat or in sub-zero temperatures. I never went to public places and came out smelling like the Marlboro Man himself. My kids' hair never had a smoky stench after visiting relatives.
When, at age 25, I developed adult onset asthma, I did not think it would be something hard to live with. And it wasn't, in the U.S. If I got sick, I took my meds, and was not exposed to poisons around every corner. In Jordan, on the other hand, I am gasping for air 9 months out of the year. And if I say anything to anyone, i.e., "Please don't smoke around my kids," I am the rude one, the bad guy, the freakish, viceless foreign stuck-up American, the pariah.
In my neighborhood there is a doctor who will give you a check up for around 5 JD. He'll check your vitals, look in your throat, look in your ears, all with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. Makes the Cigarette-Smoking Man from X-files look like a little lambie.
Gasp!
10. Open the water faucet without fear of this being last time you can wash face for three days.
9. Fall leaves/smell of football season, even though I could care less about football.
8. Cheap cereal
7. Good Chinese food
6. If it's on sale, it's on sale
5. Lots and lots of varieties of yogurt
4. Dr. Pepper in every store
3. Blue Bell Ice Cream, all flavors but especially Birthday Cake flavor
which contains chunks of white cake and icing
2. Public libraries
1. (Drum roll...) Militant anti-smoking policies that are really enforced!
I always knew that people smoked in the states but I honestly never really breathed it or had stinky smoky confrontations on a regular basis. I had friends and family members who smoked but somehow they really never tread on me. If they wanted to smoke, they did the polite thing and went outside, whether in stifling heat or in sub-zero temperatures. I never went to public places and came out smelling like the Marlboro Man himself. My kids' hair never had a smoky stench after visiting relatives.
When, at age 25, I developed adult onset asthma, I did not think it would be something hard to live with. And it wasn't, in the U.S. If I got sick, I took my meds, and was not exposed to poisons around every corner. In Jordan, on the other hand, I am gasping for air 9 months out of the year. And if I say anything to anyone, i.e., "Please don't smoke around my kids," I am the rude one, the bad guy, the freakish, viceless foreign stuck-up American, the pariah.
In my neighborhood there is a doctor who will give you a check up for around 5 JD. He'll check your vitals, look in your throat, look in your ears, all with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. Makes the Cigarette-Smoking Man from X-files look like a little lambie.
Gasp!
Saturday, October 28, 2006
Umrah Pics Part III, Misc.
Here is a date palm 'orchard' or 'grove'-- not sure what to call it. Date palms require extreme heat to flourish and produce dates. The Saudi sun provides them with that, for sure.
This is Jabal al-Uhud, site of the famous battle of Uhud. We wanted to stop and look around but the bus kept on going...
Dates o'plenty
Which way to Mecca?
Purchasing dates on the way to Mecca...so many varieties! Friday, October 27, 2006
Alia Ansari
Assalamu Alaikum,
Read here about the murder of a mother of six, Alia Ansari, who was shot while walking with her three year old to pick up her other children from school.
May Allah help her family to heal during this tragic time.
https://www.americasmuslimfamily.com/AliaAnsari/alia_ansari.html
Read here about the murder of a mother of six, Alia Ansari, who was shot while walking with her three year old to pick up her other children from school.
May Allah help her family to heal during this tragic time.
https://www.americasmuslimfamily.com/AliaAnsari/alia_ansari.html
Wednesday, October 25, 2006
Umrah, Day 6 till...
The next day was our first actual day to be 'on our own' away from the group; we had free reign of our schedule and did not have to meet them again until Friday when it would be time to head back to Amman.
It was Sunday. We headed down to the the masjid in time to pray the 'asr prayer. I was a little nervous about separating from my husband for hours on end, because I knew that the taraweeh prayers would not be finished until around 10 p.m. or after. Nevertheless, he headed out to the men's area directly in front of the ka'aba. I opted to sit inside that day, because I had heard that the women's area was cramped and I did not feel like getting into any kind of skirmish. I sat in an area not far from the Fath gate, next to a wall of zam zam fountains. I think that I had a juice with me and maybe a bottle to fill with water. I was sitting next to some Malaysian sisters who were very nice, and although we could not communicate well, we smiled at one another a lot.
Behind me I could hear a dialect of Arabic being spoken that I was not entirely comprehending, lots of French-ish sounds being thrown in. So I asked one of the sisters where she was from, and she told me, "Magrhib," or Morocco. The sister next to her was from "Al-Jaza'er," or Algeria. They were both very sweet, and I asked the one from Algeria if there were any problems there regarding women wanting to wear hijab, work with hijab, study with hijab, etc. She told me that alhamdulillah, no, Algerian sisters were free to make those choices without hindrances from the government.
We broke our fast and prayed maghrib. I really needed to use the bathroom so I got up and went to the only bathroom I knew of, located before you get to the main door I usually entered. Hmmm. How do I describe this? Think of a sauna, then multiply the humidity in a normal, spa-like sauna by, oh, 1,000. You could cut that air with a knife. It was like a different world--a world I do not want to again visit any time soon--and I tried to keep my composure. I am not a spoiled American who can't use an Arabic toilet; I have used public bathrooms in the third world: rural Mexico, Spain, and of course Jordan. Anyhow, needless to say I just did not feel like I could swing this one, so I walked over to the Sofitel Hotel food court, where a nice sister who worked in the Ladies' Restroom (it deserves capitalization!) kept it sparkling, offered soap, etc. I realized that lots of other sisters in there making wu'du had the same idea I did, and we gave each other that 'you-tried-to-go-at-the-masjid-but-couldn't-either' look of understanding.
When I got back to the masjid, I decided to try to move further in towards the ka'aba. So I sat (still inside) as close as I could get without trying to battle my way through the designated sisters' area outside. I was sitting next to some Libyan sisters who were very nice. One of them spoke really great English and she told me about her British sister-in-law and how they have taught her how to cook Libyan food, speak Arabic, etc. Of course she told me, "You look like her!" because I look like everyone's Anglo-Saxon/Germanic/Swedish/French/Northern Italian sister-in-law. You know, all us white folks look alike.
I learned how to ball myself up in the best pretzel form I could manage while praying taraweeh. I was making sujud with my feet practically under my chin. This is how much room one has when there are millions of people trying to pray in what seems to be plenty of space, but subhanAllah, once the taraweeh begins, here come the latecomers who will SIT ON YOU or monopolize what you thought was your 'space.' The most common expression I heard was "Bayt Allah Kabeer, ya Hagga," in Egyptian dialect. Not dissing Egyptians in any way, shape, or form, but they do have a not so sterling reputation (at least the women) during Umrah or Hajj because they will squeeze themselves into the smallest of spaces to pray in 'your' space, even if you've been camped out there for seven hours with your prayer rug. I saw several fights, some that got pretty heated, between/among sisters, 99% of the time with the Egyptian winning and squeezing the other out of her space in the end.
It was Sunday. We headed down to the the masjid in time to pray the 'asr prayer. I was a little nervous about separating from my husband for hours on end, because I knew that the taraweeh prayers would not be finished until around 10 p.m. or after. Nevertheless, he headed out to the men's area directly in front of the ka'aba. I opted to sit inside that day, because I had heard that the women's area was cramped and I did not feel like getting into any kind of skirmish. I sat in an area not far from the Fath gate, next to a wall of zam zam fountains. I think that I had a juice with me and maybe a bottle to fill with water. I was sitting next to some Malaysian sisters who were very nice, and although we could not communicate well, we smiled at one another a lot.
Behind me I could hear a dialect of Arabic being spoken that I was not entirely comprehending, lots of French-ish sounds being thrown in. So I asked one of the sisters where she was from, and she told me, "Magrhib," or Morocco. The sister next to her was from "Al-Jaza'er," or Algeria. They were both very sweet, and I asked the one from Algeria if there were any problems there regarding women wanting to wear hijab, work with hijab, study with hijab, etc. She told me that alhamdulillah, no, Algerian sisters were free to make those choices without hindrances from the government.
We broke our fast and prayed maghrib. I really needed to use the bathroom so I got up and went to the only bathroom I knew of, located before you get to the main door I usually entered. Hmmm. How do I describe this? Think of a sauna, then multiply the humidity in a normal, spa-like sauna by, oh, 1,000. You could cut that air with a knife. It was like a different world--a world I do not want to again visit any time soon--and I tried to keep my composure. I am not a spoiled American who can't use an Arabic toilet; I have used public bathrooms in the third world: rural Mexico, Spain, and of course Jordan. Anyhow, needless to say I just did not feel like I could swing this one, so I walked over to the Sofitel Hotel food court, where a nice sister who worked in the Ladies' Restroom (it deserves capitalization!) kept it sparkling, offered soap, etc. I realized that lots of other sisters in there making wu'du had the same idea I did, and we gave each other that 'you-tried-to-go-at-the-masjid-but-couldn't-either' look of understanding.
When I got back to the masjid, I decided to try to move further in towards the ka'aba. So I sat (still inside) as close as I could get without trying to battle my way through the designated sisters' area outside. I was sitting next to some Libyan sisters who were very nice. One of them spoke really great English and she told me about her British sister-in-law and how they have taught her how to cook Libyan food, speak Arabic, etc. Of course she told me, "You look like her!" because I look like everyone's Anglo-Saxon/Germanic/Swedish/French/Northern Italian sister-in-law. You know, all us white folks look alike.
I learned how to ball myself up in the best pretzel form I could manage while praying taraweeh. I was making sujud with my feet practically under my chin. This is how much room one has when there are millions of people trying to pray in what seems to be plenty of space, but subhanAllah, once the taraweeh begins, here come the latecomers who will SIT ON YOU or monopolize what you thought was your 'space.' The most common expression I heard was "Bayt Allah Kabeer, ya Hagga," in Egyptian dialect. Not dissing Egyptians in any way, shape, or form, but they do have a not so sterling reputation (at least the women) during Umrah or Hajj because they will squeeze themselves into the smallest of spaces to pray in 'your' space, even if you've been camped out there for seven hours with your prayer rug. I saw several fights, some that got pretty heated, between/among sisters, 99% of the time with the Egyptian winning and squeezing the other out of her space in the end.
Burkah vs. Bikini?
Assalamu Alaikum,
First of all, Eid Mubarak to you all. May Allah accept your prayers and fasting and (I really stress this part) may we all keep up our momentum of doing good deeds, fasting voluntarily, and seeking the blessings and mercy of Allah, all throughout the year.
Secondly, I was doing some research tonight--well, technically it's the wee hours of the a.m.--and I came across a website about the Dajjal. Any time I see something about the Dajjal, I have to stop and read it. I want to take some more time to go through it before I post the link, however.
BUT, linked on this website was an article printed in 2002 by Henry Makow, PhD. This is my first time to read anything by him, but now I will have to do some further exploring on his site. Please take the time to read it; please send it to your non-Muslim family members as well. It's an old article but it packs a wallop!http://www.savethemales.ca/180902.html
Thirdly, have a joyous Eid break, for those of you in the MidEast, and for those of you elsewhere, you deserve one!
Insomnia has its good points.
First of all, Eid Mubarak to you all. May Allah accept your prayers and fasting and (I really stress this part) may we all keep up our momentum of doing good deeds, fasting voluntarily, and seeking the blessings and mercy of Allah, all throughout the year.
Secondly, I was doing some research tonight--well, technically it's the wee hours of the a.m.--and I came across a website about the Dajjal. Any time I see something about the Dajjal, I have to stop and read it. I want to take some more time to go through it before I post the link, however.
BUT, linked on this website was an article printed in 2002 by Henry Makow, PhD. This is my first time to read anything by him, but now I will have to do some further exploring on his site. Please take the time to read it; please send it to your non-Muslim family members as well. It's an old article but it packs a wallop!http://www.savethemales.ca/180902.html
Thirdly, have a joyous Eid break, for those of you in the MidEast, and for those of you elsewhere, you deserve one!
Insomnia has its good points.
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
Pics Part II
The famous doves who hang out at the ka'aba and the surrounding areas. Keep in mind I was nervous having my camera in plain site anywhere in Mecca...I've heard stories of them being seized, film ripped out and discarded, etc...so I just got a quick shot of them.
Here we have people exiting the back of Masjid al-Haram just after shurouq-as-shams (sunrise). We also have some people sleeping on the ground or just relaxing. This is the ONLY time of day when we were not dripping in sweat; it was actually quite pleasant.
Photo of the "Pilgrims Complaints Committee." These are posted all over the areas/streets surrounding Masjid al-Haram. Great idea. My chief complaint: One bathroom for 600,000 + women. 
Another shot of folks lounging around. Look to the left and you will see the huge buffer-type cleaner. These are running 24/7, cleaning up after the ever-littering, messy pilgrims.Saturday, October 21, 2006
Taw'af and Sa'ee: The Two Biggies of Umrah
Day 5, just after midnight
We began our taw’af around the ka’aba. You must enter the taw’af with the ka’aba on your left, beginning the first circumambulation at the Maqam Ibrahim, which the Saudis have so cleverly marked with a giant green beaming light on your right hand side, so you inshaAllah will not get confused. Every time you pass the green light, you are beginning another round.
The murshid advised the men to hold on to their respective partners (moms, daughters, sisters, wives) by the shoulder and let the women walk ahead. As much as I wanted to get to the black stone and touch it, I saw that people were practically hanging on it, not budging, and they were all male. We circled round and round, moving closer inward each time, making as much du’a as we could, asking Allah to bless us in this life and in the hereafter, and to keep us from the hellfire. I remember when Malcolm X wrote about that feeling of seeing all of colors of humanity before him, and how he knew that Islam was a religion for all. This rang so true as I was rounding the ka’aba, trying to focus on the ikhlas or sincerity of my faith and to truly just ‘be’ a mu’min. Honestly even with the discomfort of the crowd as we moved closer in, the dunya just seemed to fade away and all that became lucid was the oneness of our creator.
We finished the 7th round and then went and drank zam zam water, then prayed 2 rak’ah. The next step was Sa’ee, or the ‘running’ between Safa and Marwah. We went to the first level where Safa and Marwah are actually visible and you can touch them/climb them, but the crowd was rather intimidating. Since we had three or four elderly sisters in our group, the murshid decided it would be best to perform the sa’ee on the second floor. I looked at these sisters’ faces, and knowing that my thirtysomething year-old self was completely worn out, I wondered how they must have been feeling! (After one of the sisters almost collapsed, we were able to get her a wheelchair.)
We began the Sa’ee on the side of Mt. Safa. Our murshid led us in the du’a we were supposed to say each time we ascended to the side of each mount. (This is why I feel there are merits in having a guide, especially the first time. My MIL made Umrah some years ago, had no guide, and told me she feels like she ‘did it wrong.’) There are two green posts on each side of the Sa’ee area, and in between the green posts the men should either walk very quickly or jog. My husband and the other brothers jogged. Alhamdulillah we were making the Umrah in the nighttime, so we could drink all the zam zam we wanted, and there were posts of zam zam water all along the route. Those who arrive during the day while fasting…may Allah reward them for their perseverance, because it is taxing on the body. We finished the Sa’ee in about one and a half hours, and it was a total of approx. 3.5 km. We would have finished sooner but along the way, in the shuffle of the crowd, we became separated from our murshid, and spent at least fifteen minutes looking for him.
Now it was time for the final rite of Umrah, which is (for men) to trim or shave all of the hair, and for women, to cut a fingertip’s length from their hair. When you walk out of the doorway to Sa’ee on the second level, you are facing a street that contains half a dozen or so barbershops. Many of the barbers stand outside waving and jumping, trying to attract business from the pilgrims requiring a shave. They charge 10 Riyals, or 2 JD (or $2.80 for those of you in the U.S.) Most of the men in our group shaved their heads completely. This is the final rite in releasing the Muslim from the state of Ihram.
We had finished, Alhamdulillah. InshaAllah it was accepted from us and will be accepted from you, when you have the opportunity to perform Umrah. My best advice is to read as much as you can to prepare yourself, learn du’a, etc. A week before my trip I was listening to a cassette series that tells the stories of the lives of the Prophets. When I was listening to the story of Prophet Ibrahim, may Allah be pleased with him, the sheikh on the tape described the state of mind Sayyidunah Hajjar was in when she was running between Safa and Marwah. To paraphrase, he said that here was this sister, left alone in the desert, with her food supply gone (food supply=bag of dates), a baby on the brink of dying from hunger/thirst, and that she was in a total state of panic. She was running, running, running, under the blazing sun, back and forth, crying out to Allah…and then of course we all know the story of the miracle of the well of zam zam after Ismail struck the ground with his kicking feet.
What the sheikh said that made me ponder the immensity of it all was this: Imagine if Hajjar had known the impact her actions would have on millions upon millions of Muslims in future generations: how we would re-trace her steps; how both rich man and pauper would travel from afar to commemorate this miracle; how our thirst would be quenched by water from the same source that sustained her life and the life of her infant son; how this water source would eventually make Mecca a thriving center of trade and the birthplace of the Seal of all Prophets…
Hajjar would have been smiling.
It was now 3 a.m. and almost time to settle in a spot in the Haram for the fajr prayer. We ran to the Sofitel Hotel across the street, and I believe we inhaled some food from Tazaj. It was really an iftar/suhoor combo. We ran back down to the Haram so we could claim a prayer spot. I decided it was best to always meet Abu Farouq in the same place after each salat, so we decided on Bab al-Fath.
I went to the sisters’ area inside on the ground floor and found a nice space seated next to a Nigerian sister. She was reading a book of du’a in English so I decided to strike up a conversation with her. She seemed intrigued that I was American and wanted to know if there were many Muslims in the U.S. I told her that yes, there were, and that the Ummah in the U.S. is growing leaps and bounds, alhamdulillah.
After fajr salat, it was off to the hotel to try to sleep a bit… The ‘climb’ from the masjid to the hotel (all uphill!) is something I don’t really remember; what I do recall is that dispersing from the doors of Masjid al-Haram were thousands upon thousands of people heading somewhere to begin their fasts. I told my husband, “This looks like a Muslim marathon!” as all of the kufi-ed heads bobbed up and down, interspersed with black hijabs. It was a beautiful sight.
We began our taw’af around the ka’aba. You must enter the taw’af with the ka’aba on your left, beginning the first circumambulation at the Maqam Ibrahim, which the Saudis have so cleverly marked with a giant green beaming light on your right hand side, so you inshaAllah will not get confused. Every time you pass the green light, you are beginning another round.
The murshid advised the men to hold on to their respective partners (moms, daughters, sisters, wives) by the shoulder and let the women walk ahead. As much as I wanted to get to the black stone and touch it, I saw that people were practically hanging on it, not budging, and they were all male. We circled round and round, moving closer inward each time, making as much du’a as we could, asking Allah to bless us in this life and in the hereafter, and to keep us from the hellfire. I remember when Malcolm X wrote about that feeling of seeing all of colors of humanity before him, and how he knew that Islam was a religion for all. This rang so true as I was rounding the ka’aba, trying to focus on the ikhlas or sincerity of my faith and to truly just ‘be’ a mu’min. Honestly even with the discomfort of the crowd as we moved closer in, the dunya just seemed to fade away and all that became lucid was the oneness of our creator.
We finished the 7th round and then went and drank zam zam water, then prayed 2 rak’ah. The next step was Sa’ee, or the ‘running’ between Safa and Marwah. We went to the first level where Safa and Marwah are actually visible and you can touch them/climb them, but the crowd was rather intimidating. Since we had three or four elderly sisters in our group, the murshid decided it would be best to perform the sa’ee on the second floor. I looked at these sisters’ faces, and knowing that my thirtysomething year-old self was completely worn out, I wondered how they must have been feeling! (After one of the sisters almost collapsed, we were able to get her a wheelchair.)
We began the Sa’ee on the side of Mt. Safa. Our murshid led us in the du’a we were supposed to say each time we ascended to the side of each mount. (This is why I feel there are merits in having a guide, especially the first time. My MIL made Umrah some years ago, had no guide, and told me she feels like she ‘did it wrong.’) There are two green posts on each side of the Sa’ee area, and in between the green posts the men should either walk very quickly or jog. My husband and the other brothers jogged. Alhamdulillah we were making the Umrah in the nighttime, so we could drink all the zam zam we wanted, and there were posts of zam zam water all along the route. Those who arrive during the day while fasting…may Allah reward them for their perseverance, because it is taxing on the body. We finished the Sa’ee in about one and a half hours, and it was a total of approx. 3.5 km. We would have finished sooner but along the way, in the shuffle of the crowd, we became separated from our murshid, and spent at least fifteen minutes looking for him.
Now it was time for the final rite of Umrah, which is (for men) to trim or shave all of the hair, and for women, to cut a fingertip’s length from their hair. When you walk out of the doorway to Sa’ee on the second level, you are facing a street that contains half a dozen or so barbershops. Many of the barbers stand outside waving and jumping, trying to attract business from the pilgrims requiring a shave. They charge 10 Riyals, or 2 JD (or $2.80 for those of you in the U.S.) Most of the men in our group shaved their heads completely. This is the final rite in releasing the Muslim from the state of Ihram.
We had finished, Alhamdulillah. InshaAllah it was accepted from us and will be accepted from you, when you have the opportunity to perform Umrah. My best advice is to read as much as you can to prepare yourself, learn du’a, etc. A week before my trip I was listening to a cassette series that tells the stories of the lives of the Prophets. When I was listening to the story of Prophet Ibrahim, may Allah be pleased with him, the sheikh on the tape described the state of mind Sayyidunah Hajjar was in when she was running between Safa and Marwah. To paraphrase, he said that here was this sister, left alone in the desert, with her food supply gone (food supply=bag of dates), a baby on the brink of dying from hunger/thirst, and that she was in a total state of panic. She was running, running, running, under the blazing sun, back and forth, crying out to Allah…and then of course we all know the story of the miracle of the well of zam zam after Ismail struck the ground with his kicking feet.
What the sheikh said that made me ponder the immensity of it all was this: Imagine if Hajjar had known the impact her actions would have on millions upon millions of Muslims in future generations: how we would re-trace her steps; how both rich man and pauper would travel from afar to commemorate this miracle; how our thirst would be quenched by water from the same source that sustained her life and the life of her infant son; how this water source would eventually make Mecca a thriving center of trade and the birthplace of the Seal of all Prophets…
Hajjar would have been smiling.
It was now 3 a.m. and almost time to settle in a spot in the Haram for the fajr prayer. We ran to the Sofitel Hotel across the street, and I believe we inhaled some food from Tazaj. It was really an iftar/suhoor combo. We ran back down to the Haram so we could claim a prayer spot. I decided it was best to always meet Abu Farouq in the same place after each salat, so we decided on Bab al-Fath.
I went to the sisters’ area inside on the ground floor and found a nice space seated next to a Nigerian sister. She was reading a book of du’a in English so I decided to strike up a conversation with her. She seemed intrigued that I was American and wanted to know if there were many Muslims in the U.S. I told her that yes, there were, and that the Ummah in the U.S. is growing leaps and bounds, alhamdulillah.
After fajr salat, it was off to the hotel to try to sleep a bit… The ‘climb’ from the masjid to the hotel (all uphill!) is something I don’t really remember; what I do recall is that dispersing from the doors of Masjid al-Haram were thousands upon thousands of people heading somewhere to begin their fasts. I told my husband, “This looks like a Muslim marathon!” as all of the kufi-ed heads bobbed up and down, interspersed with black hijabs. It was a beautiful sight.
Pics Part I
Here is a photo of Medina at night--actually the night we were getting ready to leave.
The mother of all buses.
This was en route on the Hwy. to Medina: two giant hands holding up the world, with Saudi Arabia right in the middle. A break from the usual fountain or patch of grass in the roundabout.
After fajr at the Saudi border.
One of the brilliantly glowing minarets, Masjid an-Nabawi, Medina.
Umrah: Days 3 - 5
After finishing maghrib prayers I was able to strap my camera over my shoulder and get inside the masjid without anyone noticing. As much as I wanted to sneak a few photos, I did not dare try. The architecture in the masjid and all of the amazing details are mind-boggling... I especially enjoyed sitting under the night sky where the retractable roof is located.
We stayed on for 'isha and taraweeh prayers. In Medina and Mecca the taraweeh prayer consists of 20 rak'at, not eight. When taraweeh began I was thrilled to hear the voice of Sheikh Hudaifi leading us in prayer. I have always been so jealous of the native speakers of Arabic who understand everything being recited, because I feel that as a revert whose grasp of the Quranic Arabic is minimal, I know that I 'miss out' in these kinds of situations. Sometimes my 'khushu'ah' wanes and I drift off, especially during really long surahs. But Alhamdulillah, Hudaifi's melodious recitation kept me focused.
After taraweeh, I met up with my husband and we toured around the souk in Medina, buying a couple of gifties and mostly just admiring the scenery. Some people had told me before our trip that the people of Medina are so kind and approachable, and I found this to be true. SubhanAllah, some are the descendants of the Ansar who welcomed Prophet Muhammad and helped the Muslims fighting in the cause of Allah...quite a contrast from the Quraish in Mecca. Most people say that these traits have been passed down through the generations, so that today the people in Medina are known for being nice and hospitable, while the Meccans are known for being abrupt and harsh.
We were lamenting the fact that we really only had one full day to spend in Medina, and next time inshaAllah we want to spend more time there. It was time to go back to the room and get our things ready for the trip to Mecca the following morning, when the Umrah officially would begin.
Day 4
The previous night in the hotel lobby we saw a sign that read "Those of you in Teeba group on Bus 1, the bus to Mecca will leave tomorrow at 10:30 a.m." Therefore, we thought we would have time to sleep a few hours after fajr. However, at 7:45 a.m., the phone rang with a voice telling my husband, "Be downstairs in 15 minutes; the bus will leave at 8:00." So much for the sign! So much for a few winks! So we threw our things together and ran downstairs with our luggage.
I had been reading several books /references about how to make Umrah prior to and during the trip. JazakullahKhayr to the sisters who gave me those, because they are very helpful. There is so much to remember, and you want to do everything correctly because naturally it is your goal to please Allah and have your Umrah accepted. So I knew that this part of the trip would be very important...
We left Medina heading to Mecca, but we made several stops before actually being 'on the way.' First the bus pulled into a souk where we could browse around for some really reasonably priced clothes/shoes/household goods. I was able to buy some items for a fraction of the cost I would pay in Amman; the problem was that it was almost dhuhr time and the bus driver only gave us about forty minutes to shop. (not enough time!)
Then we stopped at Masjid al-Quba', which is outside of Madina, to pray dhuhr. This masjid is the fourth holiest site in Islam, and the reward for praying two rak'ah in this masjid is equal to making one Umrah. Who would pass up that opportunity for 'ajr? I told someone from our group, "You know, Allah gives us countless opportunities to increase our good deeds and strengthen our faith...we just have to wake up and see them."
The masjid is quite beautiful and spacious; Prophet Muhammad used to travel from his masjid in Medina to the Quba' masjid on Saturdays, where he would pray. We prayed dhuhr with the Imam and then made a shortened 'asr prayer, because we knew that we would not arrive in Mecca before nightfall. (pic of masjid above)
We got on the road after praying and drove about one hour towards Mecca. We came to a place called Dhul Hulayfah, which is a place for al Miqat, one of the several locations in Saudi that was designated by Prophet Muhammad (pbuh) as places one must begin Ihram, en route to Mecca.
"The Messenger (pbuh) specified these locations and said, 'They are
the locations for whoever passes by them of those who are not
their inhabitants and for whoever wants to make Hajj and Umrah.'"
-collected by Bukhari and Muslim
In Dhul Hulayfah, they really had considered every need of the traveler. They sold the Ihram garments, backless sandals for men, food and drink, prayer rugs, prayer beads, etc., and they had a large *clean* facility for men and women to make ghusl if they needed to, make wu'du, etc. The main purpose of our being there was to begin Ihram and make our intention for the Umrah. After making wu'du, I went into the masjid, prayed 2 rak'ahs and made my intention, saying, "Allahumma Labbayk Umrah." My transformation was not so obvious, because I entered in my abaya and scarf, and came out wearing the same. However, in the courtyard between the men and women's prayer area, my eye caught a glimpse of my husband. This is when the hairs on my neck stood on end, I got that tingly feeling all over, and began to cry. The site of my life partner dressed this way, trying to fulfill a requirement of his deen, is something I will never forget. We smiled at each other from afar and I went and sat on the bus, waiting for him to join me.
Back aboard, the men now donned in their Ihram clothing sat in the front together while the women sat in the back, and we chanted "Labbayk Allahumma labbayk, labbak Allah sharekkah lak albayk..."as the bus pulled away from al Miqat. There still remained 450 km of road between our bus and Mecca.
Around five p.m., with an hour left until iftar time, we came to a checkpoint. This is the point where the Saudi authorities check all of the passports to ensure that only Muslims are entering Mecca. An official boarded the bus and looked at all of our passports, then we pulled under an overpass where other officials handed us iftar boxes. Each box contained milk, juice, dates, and a cheese sandwich. They also passed out bottled water to us all. We would stop in another hour at a rest area to break our fast, compliments of the Saudis.
The next three or so hours after iftar I honestly do not remember. I think I woke up next to the lady sitting by me with a puddle of drool (lovely!) on my face...we were just so tired and uncomfortable, and I tried to sleep by resting my chin in the palm of my hand. It was the kind of tired that makes you want to scream, "LET US BE THERE ALREADY!!!" but at the same time, you know that you must be patient. Let me tell you, this bus trek is no piece of cake. Alhamdulillah.
Around 11 p.m. (we had left Medina around 9 a.m.) we pulled into Mecca. It looked like a normal city, with a mix of modern and old. We got into a traffic jam and I knew we must be approaching Masjid al Haram.
Suddenly the bus stopped on an incline, with its front end pointing downhill. I looked around and realized we must be at the hotel. The plan was to stop at the hotel long enough to put our luggage inside the room, and head straight to the ka'aba. I woke up Abu Farouq and we unloaded our things. There was no way to get on the hotel elevator, because there were about 75 people with all of their belongings all trying to do the same thing. So we took our things up four flights of stairs and found our room. We had just enough time to make wu'du when the phone rang to let us know that other group members were already waiting for us downstairs to begin the Umrah. I was so nervous/excited, but also exhausted. I was happy, however, that the murshid from our bus and his wife were among the members downstairs waiting for us, as were Um Ahmed and her son.
We began walking down the hill; our hotel was approximately 1.5 km from the masjid. I just looked around at the rows of hotels and shops; it honestly did not look much different from the balad here in Amman. It was very crowded, noisy, and full of traffic. I exclaimed to Abu Farouq, "The ka'aba is down here, in all of THIS?!" He reminded me to have a good attitude. Actually, I think I might have said the word nastiness to describe the neighborhood. Chalk it up to exhaustion.
We rounded one corner where there was a pharmacy, a Pakistani restaurant, and some rows of shops. Then, all of a sudden, it came into view. Its nine minarets towered above us. Doves flew all around. People were spread out everywhere on the grounds surrounding the masjid...the door we entered, Bab al-Fath, was packed with people coming in and out. We took our shoes off, entered the masjid with our right food and said, "Allahumma salli ala sayidunah Muhammad; Rubbana iftahlee bab ar-Rahmatak."
We were at the ka'aba! There it stood before us, drawing us in like a giant magnet. Abu Farouq kept squeezing my hand, saying, "We're here! We're here!" I cried; I think I did not speak for several minutes--I was too awestruck. The guide told us that we would begin with our Taw'af. It was after midnight, which brings us to day 5.
We stayed on for 'isha and taraweeh prayers. In Medina and Mecca the taraweeh prayer consists of 20 rak'at, not eight. When taraweeh began I was thrilled to hear the voice of Sheikh Hudaifi leading us in prayer. I have always been so jealous of the native speakers of Arabic who understand everything being recited, because I feel that as a revert whose grasp of the Quranic Arabic is minimal, I know that I 'miss out' in these kinds of situations. Sometimes my 'khushu'ah' wanes and I drift off, especially during really long surahs. But Alhamdulillah, Hudaifi's melodious recitation kept me focused.
After taraweeh, I met up with my husband and we toured around the souk in Medina, buying a couple of gifties and mostly just admiring the scenery. Some people had told me before our trip that the people of Medina are so kind and approachable, and I found this to be true. SubhanAllah, some are the descendants of the Ansar who welcomed Prophet Muhammad and helped the Muslims fighting in the cause of Allah...quite a contrast from the Quraish in Mecca. Most people say that these traits have been passed down through the generations, so that today the people in Medina are known for being nice and hospitable, while the Meccans are known for being abrupt and harsh.
We were lamenting the fact that we really only had one full day to spend in Medina, and next time inshaAllah we want to spend more time there. It was time to go back to the room and get our things ready for the trip to Mecca the following morning, when the Umrah officially would begin.
Day 4
The previous night in the hotel lobby we saw a sign that read "Those of you in Teeba group on Bus 1, the bus to Mecca will leave tomorrow at 10:30 a.m." Therefore, we thought we would have time to sleep a few hours after fajr. However, at 7:45 a.m., the phone rang with a voice telling my husband, "Be downstairs in 15 minutes; the bus will leave at 8:00." So much for the sign! So much for a few winks! So we threw our things together and ran downstairs with our luggage.
I had been reading several books /references about how to make Umrah prior to and during the trip. JazakullahKhayr to the sisters who gave me those, because they are very helpful. There is so much to remember, and you want to do everything correctly because naturally it is your goal to please Allah and have your Umrah accepted. So I knew that this part of the trip would be very important...
We left Medina heading to Mecca, but we made several stops before actually being 'on the way.' First the bus pulled into a souk where we could browse around for some really reasonably priced clothes/shoes/household goods. I was able to buy some items for a fraction of the cost I would pay in Amman; the problem was that it was almost dhuhr time and the bus driver only gave us about forty minutes to shop. (not enough time!)
Then we stopped at Masjid al-Quba', which is outside of Madina, to pray dhuhr. This masjid is the fourth holiest site in Islam, and the reward for praying two rak'ah in this masjid is equal to making one Umrah. Who would pass up that opportunity for 'ajr? I told someone from our group, "You know, Allah gives us countless opportunities to increase our good deeds and strengthen our faith...we just have to wake up and see them."The masjid is quite beautiful and spacious; Prophet Muhammad used to travel from his masjid in Medina to the Quba' masjid on Saturdays, where he would pray. We prayed dhuhr with the Imam and then made a shortened 'asr prayer, because we knew that we would not arrive in Mecca before nightfall. (pic of masjid above)
We got on the road after praying and drove about one hour towards Mecca. We came to a place called Dhul Hulayfah, which is a place for al Miqat, one of the several locations in Saudi that was designated by Prophet Muhammad (pbuh) as places one must begin Ihram, en route to Mecca.
"The Messenger (pbuh) specified these locations and said, 'They are
the locations for whoever passes by them of those who are not
their inhabitants and for whoever wants to make Hajj and Umrah.'"
-collected by Bukhari and Muslim
In Dhul Hulayfah, they really had considered every need of the traveler. They sold the Ihram garments, backless sandals for men, food and drink, prayer rugs, prayer beads, etc., and they had a large *clean* facility for men and women to make ghusl if they needed to, make wu'du, etc. The main purpose of our being there was to begin Ihram and make our intention for the Umrah. After making wu'du, I went into the masjid, prayed 2 rak'ahs and made my intention, saying, "Allahumma Labbayk Umrah." My transformation was not so obvious, because I entered in my abaya and scarf, and came out wearing the same. However, in the courtyard between the men and women's prayer area, my eye caught a glimpse of my husband. This is when the hairs on my neck stood on end, I got that tingly feeling all over, and began to cry. The site of my life partner dressed this way, trying to fulfill a requirement of his deen, is something I will never forget. We smiled at each other from afar and I went and sat on the bus, waiting for him to join me.
Back aboard, the men now donned in their Ihram clothing sat in the front together while the women sat in the back, and we chanted "Labbayk Allahumma labbayk, labbak Allah sharekkah lak albayk..."as the bus pulled away from al Miqat. There still remained 450 km of road between our bus and Mecca.
Around five p.m., with an hour left until iftar time, we came to a checkpoint. This is the point where the Saudi authorities check all of the passports to ensure that only Muslims are entering Mecca. An official boarded the bus and looked at all of our passports, then we pulled under an overpass where other officials handed us iftar boxes. Each box contained milk, juice, dates, and a cheese sandwich. They also passed out bottled water to us all. We would stop in another hour at a rest area to break our fast, compliments of the Saudis.
The next three or so hours after iftar I honestly do not remember. I think I woke up next to the lady sitting by me with a puddle of drool (lovely!) on my face...we were just so tired and uncomfortable, and I tried to sleep by resting my chin in the palm of my hand. It was the kind of tired that makes you want to scream, "LET US BE THERE ALREADY!!!" but at the same time, you know that you must be patient. Let me tell you, this bus trek is no piece of cake. Alhamdulillah.
Around 11 p.m. (we had left Medina around 9 a.m.) we pulled into Mecca. It looked like a normal city, with a mix of modern and old. We got into a traffic jam and I knew we must be approaching Masjid al Haram.
Suddenly the bus stopped on an incline, with its front end pointing downhill. I looked around and realized we must be at the hotel. The plan was to stop at the hotel long enough to put our luggage inside the room, and head straight to the ka'aba. I woke up Abu Farouq and we unloaded our things. There was no way to get on the hotel elevator, because there were about 75 people with all of their belongings all trying to do the same thing. So we took our things up four flights of stairs and found our room. We had just enough time to make wu'du when the phone rang to let us know that other group members were already waiting for us downstairs to begin the Umrah. I was so nervous/excited, but also exhausted. I was happy, however, that the murshid from our bus and his wife were among the members downstairs waiting for us, as were Um Ahmed and her son.
We began walking down the hill; our hotel was approximately 1.5 km from the masjid. I just looked around at the rows of hotels and shops; it honestly did not look much different from the balad here in Amman. It was very crowded, noisy, and full of traffic. I exclaimed to Abu Farouq, "The ka'aba is down here, in all of THIS?!" He reminded me to have a good attitude. Actually, I think I might have said the word nastiness to describe the neighborhood. Chalk it up to exhaustion.
We rounded one corner where there was a pharmacy, a Pakistani restaurant, and some rows of shops. Then, all of a sudden, it came into view. Its nine minarets towered above us. Doves flew all around. People were spread out everywhere on the grounds surrounding the masjid...the door we entered, Bab al-Fath, was packed with people coming in and out. We took our shoes off, entered the masjid with our right food and said, "Allahumma salli ala sayidunah Muhammad; Rubbana iftahlee bab ar-Rahmatak."
We were at the ka'aba! There it stood before us, drawing us in like a giant magnet. Abu Farouq kept squeezing my hand, saying, "We're here! We're here!" I cried; I think I did not speak for several minutes--I was too awestruck. The guide told us that we would begin with our Taw'af. It was after midnight, which brings us to day 5.
Our Umrah Journey, Days 1-3
Our Umrah Journey
Day 1: Hurriedly we ate our iftar at home with Teta and brother-in-law. We hastily said goodbye to tearful kids, and headed down to the Teeba travel agency in Sweileh. We were told to arrive there by a quarter till eight. We got there around eight fifteenish, thinking (as I usually do) that we were late and that the bus would pull out with out us, leaving us behind with arms waiving, shouting, “WAIT FOR US PILGRIMS!!!”
Ha ha. We got there to find a parking lot with eight giant Mercedes buses, brand new. That was comforting because I had envisioned the Beverly Hillbillies type that you throw your luggage on top and pray that it makes it with you. There were lots of smiling sisters standing around wishing us well, most of them asking me, “Are you Romanian? Are you Russian? Hey you’re not Arab are you?” “No,” to all of the above. I was the token American on the trip, and as I later would feel, in all of Mecca.
So around 8:40 we were given the green light to load our belongings and board the bus. Once aboard the bus, I realized that the seats were not made for someone weighing more than 65 kilos. I knew hubby and I would be cramped but I really felt sorry for the dozens of ‘healthy’ older ladies who had a hard time just climbing the stairs to get on and off the bus. I wondered how they would fare on the journey ahead…LOTS of walking in desert temperatures. Nice bus consolation, however, was the blasting arctic air that we could adjust to our liking. I love AC! [I later learned, however, that the lungs go into a kind of shock after being in the hot, hot air for hours on end, then returning to a hotel room with sub-zero temperatures. Pack my asthma inhaler, did I? Of course not! Alhamdulillah, pharmacies there are well-stocked.]
At 10:00, Abu Farouq and I were still sitting in our seats like good anxious pilgrims. We had befriended the folks behind us, a sister who taught Deen for 17 years and who just exemplified light and knowledge and kindness, mashaAllah. Um Ahmed. We had lots of nice conversations and I was so happy she was seated behind me. Oh, and she lives in Khalda, so inshaAllah I can see her when we’re back home. To the right of Abu Farouq was a younger guy and his Mom, who when we first boarded the bus had announced to me that THIS WAS HER SEAT and she wasn’t budging, because she suffered from diabetes, swollen legs, had just had an operation, had high blood pressure, etc., etc….and she looked maybe to be 50 years old. I later learned she had married at age 13 and was a grandma by age 30, so I think that she had aged faster than most folks her age. She was a loud, boisterous type, who, astaghfirAllah, rubbed me the wrong way from the beginning, but I was confident in the fact that the nice kind sister was sitting behind me.
11:00 p.m., yep, still sitting in the parking lot. So much for my fears of getting left behind!! There was some commotion out in the parking lot (far be it from Arabs to be in the midst of commotion), and I saw some arms flailing around and lots of yelling. It seems that two passengers, a sister who wore niqab (complete niqab, just her glasses showing) and her son had paid for four bus seats so they could have extra leg room and room for belongings (which is actually a good idea) but suddenly the bus company was saying that they had not. So they got off the bus and said they were not coming on the trip. Big hullabaloo. Plus there were still 6 passengers who had not shown up. Tick, tick, tick…
11:20: Two of the missing four passengers arrive. Guess what?? Their seat numbers are in diabetic lady and her son’s seats. So the worker in charge of seating (al Mudeer aj-Juloos) climbs aboard and asks the people politely to move to their assigned seats. The lady says, “but I’ve been sitting here since 8 p.m.!” as if the amount of time one has been sitting in a seat will magically change his seat assignment. The employee tells her he does not care how long she had been sitting there, that they are not her seats, and she must get up. So up comes MILITANT SON to see what the problem is, and begins yelling and shouting, “WE PAID 50 JD extra for these seats!” which I doubted, but I just kept quiet. So, the sit-in began. The son was not moving, the Mama was not moving, and the two sisters who were actually assigned to sit there were not going to trade. These were the prime seats because they did not have passengers in front of them, rather a nicer space with more leg room. We later found out that that these two sisters were the wife and daughter of the owner of the bus company, but mashaAllah, they never announced this. Anyhow, this loud exchange went on for about….oh….20 minutes. Finally some of the passengers said they were going to call the police if the old lady and her son did not move. That got them up, but they were cursing and making du’a against the travel agency, the seating mudeer, the people who were not on their side, etc. At last, they sat down…all of a sudden militant boy jumps up and decides he’s not through! He’s going to go down and get another LOOK AT THE FACE of the seat assigner so that he doesn’t forget him! Skirmish in the parking lot! Fist-a-cuffs (well, almost) …this guy pulls him off (one of them was my husband?) and he calms down but good grief it was all such a show of heinous machismo. It made me feel ill-inclined towards the lady who, by the way, was now seated behind ME because the original sister behind me was so kind and gave up her seat to go sit in the back where you feel the heat from the motor. Now here we sat, with the lady behind me (Um Muhammad) making loud du’a, “May Allah break the bus!! May Allah break the bus!! Oh, but not till we’re on our way back!” I kid you not.
Pull out of parking lot (FINALLY) at 11:55. We get half-way down Airport Hwy past McDonald’s …suddenly bus stops. Loud voices outside, arms flailing again… Seems the four passengers who were FOUR HOURS LATE decide to show up, not at our scheduled place of departure, but rather on the side of the highway. That’s not all, sisters…they were shouting that they would NOT go on the trip because they did not have seats in front! So four good Samaritans got up and traded around to appease them. I did not budge. Why on earth are you four hours late for Umrah? Nice sister (Um Ahmed) apologized to me and said she was so appalled and embarrassed that I had witnessed such a show of ‘jahl’ by folks who were going on a pilgrimage. I just chuckled. And, we’re off!!
Day 2: Well, since “Day 1” was not really a day, but rather four hours sitting in a parking lot, it ran into Day 2 rather quickly. We did not actually get on the road until after midnight. Bus had a sheikh mushrid (guide) and he made nice du’a for us and told us he was there to answer any questions we might have had. I did not honestly think anyone would ask him any questions. Around 5 a.m. we pulled up to the Saudi border to get our passports checked, use the bathrooms, and pray fajr. Oh, Saudi, how could you? You are the land of may resources, large foreign workforce, money all over the place, why oh why can’t you keep some public restrooms clean?? Not only did I have to cover my face to keep from vomiting, the prayer area was not clean at all. At any rate, we made our prayer and got settled on the bus for the next 12 or so hours ahead.
The rest of the day kind of blurred together because I was fading in and out of sleep. We prayed our dhuhr and asr prayers (combined, although some of the travelers argued with the murshid about the validity of combining prayers) somewhere on the road at one of the truckstop/masjid areas. Then, finally around 5 in the evening, we pulled into the Madina city limits. It had an immediate ‘feel’ to it and I knew that it was going to be a place we would not want to soon leave. After about 10 minutes Masjid an-Nabawi became clear to us and we were all exclaiming on the bus Masha’Allah/Allahu Akbar at the site of its immensity and beauty. We pulled up to the hotel Al-Dakheel and quickly took our luggage up, showered and changed clothes. By the time we got downstairs it was nearly time for maghrib. Having not bought any foodstuffs we were just running down to the masjid in kind of a feverish excitement, not knowing what to expect. When we came to the masjid we saw people sitting neatly in rows spread out with small iftar meals: cups of yogurt, bread, juices, dates, and zam zam water. Abu Farouq sat nearby with some men and almost immediately a tall African looking fellow handed me some crusty bread and a cup of juice and a cup of leban with some zatar on the lid (the Saudis like to mix zatar in their leban and eat it with bread.) Spread out before me was a mini representation of the muslim ummah…all walks of life, shapes, sizes, nationalities, languages, etc., all of us waiting for the adhan and the chance to pray our prayers in Masjid an-Nabawi where the reward of praying one prayer is as if praying 1,000.
SubhanAllah, the adhan came in and we broke our fast on what had been given to us. Abu Farouq went into the men’s area and I kept walking to where the signs were pointing to the Women’s Area. I saw a large group of women standing outside getting ready to pray so I assumed that perhaps the women’s area was already filled up. So I stood in line outside and prayed maghrib there, on the sidewalk. I did not know that there was plenty of room still inside the masjid, but because in Madina they do not allow food to be carried inside, many sisters choose to pray outside and then have a full iftar. I saw large bags filled with to-go plates of rice, biryani, chicken, etc., being distributed to the hungry people. SubhanAllah. The sight of the different people mixed with the giving spirit of Ramadan and the fact that I was standing in the 2nd holiest place in Islam just overwhelmed me and tears began to flow. I’m the kind of person who can cry hearing the adhan on any regular given day, so being here just magnified my emotions!
I was able to meet up with Abu Farouq after maghrib and we looked for a place to eat, since it had been a good 24 hours since having any real sort of meal. We looked and looked but all we saw were shawerma places, which we did not want. So I finally said, “Hey, there’s the Movenpick Hotel, I bet they have a restaurant!” We went in and found a nice buffet with everything you could imagine, but the nicest part was the assortment of juices and yogurts to drink. I had fresh tamarind juice mixed w/ pomegranate…oh yum. Anyhow, we ate quickly so we could get back down to the masjid for prayers. I went in to the bathroom to wash while Abu Farouq paid the bill…eh hem, 207 Riyals, which is about 40 JD!! Not exactly the traveling pilgrims’ kind of budget, but hey, it was one time only, and it was really worth it.
Day 3: Up for fajr and off to the masjid. After fajr we decided to go try to see the Prophet’s grave (pbuh), where Abu Bakr and Omar ibn al-Khattab(ra) are also buried. I was warned before that it could be a tough undertaking, because of the women who know no better and who push and shove and yell and tear at themselves to get to the grave, and upon seeing it, try to kiss it, touch it, etc. All of this is of course undesirable behavior and bid’ah, and I did not want to be a part of it. I did, however, want the chance to see the grave and pray two ra’kah in the Rawdah. So I told Abu Farouq I’d meet him outside in an hour and we set off our separate ways. An hour !! I crack myself up.
Once inside, I noticed that the women were already restless. It was 7 a..m. I tried to orient myself as to the system in place of letting the women through. I noticed various sisters holding signs that read, “Maghrib” or “Indonesia” or “Bilaad as-Sham.” “Masr” had the largest representation of women. Since there was no sister holding up the “United States of America” sign, I went over and sat with the Shami group. Each sister who was in charge of the group was also employed by the masjid to explain to sisters the etiquette of visiting Prophet Muhammad’s grave. It just so happened that my favorite sister Um Ahmed, from the bus, walked in while the lecture was beginning, so we sat and listened eagerly to what the sister said. I was so filled with anticipation and I just kept looking up at the 1000s of rows of arches inside the masjid, and tried to picture what it must have looked like when Prophet Muhammad (saw) and the sahaba first laid the foundation so many years ago. Anyhow, the sister told us that we should, at the grave, make du’a to Allah (not to P. Muhammad as so many people do!!) and if we are able to comfortably do so, pray two ra’kah.
After about an hour had passed, we were ushered with our respected countrywomen (bilaad-as-Sham!) into the area right before the entrance to the grave. It was total chaos, people shoving and pushing and sadly, shouting. One lady was digging what I believed to be her knee into my back as hard as she could, as if that would speed me up. So many of the Egyptian women were saying “Nifsi a-shoofo! Nifsi a-shoofo!” (I want to see him! I want to see him!) and then when we were finally able to enter, they made the “la la la la leeeeee” trillings, which I just could not believe. There was no way to pray the two ra’kah; I was really just making du’a to get out of there without being trampled. This saddened me, because as Muslims we have the ability to act civilized and to listen to instructions, and the good people of Medina go to the trouble to educate the visitors on how to act, but when it comes down to it, most lose all composure. May Allah guide us.
But guess what? Even with all of the undesirable behavior of these women, I was still so thankful to Allah to be there, to keep marveling at the impact that Prophet Muhammad had on our lives, and the love that we have for him. Although some acted in ignorance, I do know that it is this love that we have for the Prophet that overwhelms us and can make the tears flow uncontrollably. The consolation to anyone’s misdoings was that I was in Medinatul-Nabi, standing where the most beloved Prophet of Allah worshipped his Creator, lived his last years, and died. Sallalahu alayhi wa salam.
After I finally met up with my husband (two hours late), it had already gotten quite hot, and it was time to retire to the hotel for a rest.
That evening my husband and I met up with Um Ahmed and her son from our tour group. We all walked to the masjid together right before iftar. I had absentmindedly put my camera in my bag with the intention of taking some shots of Medina after the taraweeh prayers, not thinking that the sisters would check my bag at the entrance to the women’s section. I wanted to break my fast outside where I had the night before, but Um Ahmed insisted that we move inside to the air-conditioned women’s area. Of course, the sister at the door told me that she would have to take my camera if I wanted to enter. So, I opted to stay outside, and Um Ahmed in her graciousness decided to stay with me. We put our prayer mats directly in front of the women’s entrance and waited for the adhan. I looked around at the rows of women with all of their food and thermoses of coffee and tea, and then looked at my and Um Ahmed’s supplies, which consisted of some juice and some dates. I decided to “make the rounds” among the sisters.
I politely excused myself and told her I was going to go get some food for us. I walked over to what looked like some Turkish sisters and said, “Mumkin fee Khubaz?” They understood me, and one of them smilingly handed me a nice-sized loaf of bread. Then I saw a Sudani sister serving tea. I asked her, “Fee kasatain shai?” and she responded affirmatively, handing me two cups of hot tea. Bread and tea! MashaAllah. I walked back to Um Ahmed very pleased with my findings. May Allah reward those sisters. Then, a group of four or five African sisters came and sat down directly in front of us. They had beautiful smiles and kind eyes. I was not sure where they were from, so I asked them in Arabic and found out they were Nigerian but lived in Medina. Because they lived there, they had brought with them many items from home. They handed us each a carton of yogurt, boiled eggs, and some little fried donuts that tasted kind of like funnel cakes that you buy at the fair in the U.S. SubhanAllah! Within five minutes of sitting down, Um Ahmed and I had a scrumptious iftar in front of us. The adhan sounded, and we broke our fast on the dates, zam zam water, and then made egg sandwiches, ate yogurt, and drank hot tea, with little fried donuts for desert. Who could ask for more? I say again, SubhanAllah!
What struck me so deeply was the equality of us all. All of us fasting, all worshipping, all sharing in the blessings of the moment. I had no clue as to who among us drove a fancy car or lived in a villa, or for whom Ramadan was the time when their bellies were the fullest. We were just sisters. SISTERS.
Day 1: Hurriedly we ate our iftar at home with Teta and brother-in-law. We hastily said goodbye to tearful kids, and headed down to the Teeba travel agency in Sweileh. We were told to arrive there by a quarter till eight. We got there around eight fifteenish, thinking (as I usually do) that we were late and that the bus would pull out with out us, leaving us behind with arms waiving, shouting, “WAIT FOR US PILGRIMS!!!”
Ha ha. We got there to find a parking lot with eight giant Mercedes buses, brand new. That was comforting because I had envisioned the Beverly Hillbillies type that you throw your luggage on top and pray that it makes it with you. There were lots of smiling sisters standing around wishing us well, most of them asking me, “Are you Romanian? Are you Russian? Hey you’re not Arab are you?” “No,” to all of the above. I was the token American on the trip, and as I later would feel, in all of Mecca.
So around 8:40 we were given the green light to load our belongings and board the bus. Once aboard the bus, I realized that the seats were not made for someone weighing more than 65 kilos. I knew hubby and I would be cramped but I really felt sorry for the dozens of ‘healthy’ older ladies who had a hard time just climbing the stairs to get on and off the bus. I wondered how they would fare on the journey ahead…LOTS of walking in desert temperatures. Nice bus consolation, however, was the blasting arctic air that we could adjust to our liking. I love AC! [I later learned, however, that the lungs go into a kind of shock after being in the hot, hot air for hours on end, then returning to a hotel room with sub-zero temperatures. Pack my asthma inhaler, did I? Of course not! Alhamdulillah, pharmacies there are well-stocked.]
At 10:00, Abu Farouq and I were still sitting in our seats like good anxious pilgrims. We had befriended the folks behind us, a sister who taught Deen for 17 years and who just exemplified light and knowledge and kindness, mashaAllah. Um Ahmed. We had lots of nice conversations and I was so happy she was seated behind me. Oh, and she lives in Khalda, so inshaAllah I can see her when we’re back home. To the right of Abu Farouq was a younger guy and his Mom, who when we first boarded the bus had announced to me that THIS WAS HER SEAT and she wasn’t budging, because she suffered from diabetes, swollen legs, had just had an operation, had high blood pressure, etc., etc….and she looked maybe to be 50 years old. I later learned she had married at age 13 and was a grandma by age 30, so I think that she had aged faster than most folks her age. She was a loud, boisterous type, who, astaghfirAllah, rubbed me the wrong way from the beginning, but I was confident in the fact that the nice kind sister was sitting behind me.
11:00 p.m., yep, still sitting in the parking lot. So much for my fears of getting left behind!! There was some commotion out in the parking lot (far be it from Arabs to be in the midst of commotion), and I saw some arms flailing around and lots of yelling. It seems that two passengers, a sister who wore niqab (complete niqab, just her glasses showing) and her son had paid for four bus seats so they could have extra leg room and room for belongings (which is actually a good idea) but suddenly the bus company was saying that they had not. So they got off the bus and said they were not coming on the trip. Big hullabaloo. Plus there were still 6 passengers who had not shown up. Tick, tick, tick…
11:20: Two of the missing four passengers arrive. Guess what?? Their seat numbers are in diabetic lady and her son’s seats. So the worker in charge of seating (al Mudeer aj-Juloos) climbs aboard and asks the people politely to move to their assigned seats. The lady says, “but I’ve been sitting here since 8 p.m.!” as if the amount of time one has been sitting in a seat will magically change his seat assignment. The employee tells her he does not care how long she had been sitting there, that they are not her seats, and she must get up. So up comes MILITANT SON to see what the problem is, and begins yelling and shouting, “WE PAID 50 JD extra for these seats!” which I doubted, but I just kept quiet. So, the sit-in began. The son was not moving, the Mama was not moving, and the two sisters who were actually assigned to sit there were not going to trade. These were the prime seats because they did not have passengers in front of them, rather a nicer space with more leg room. We later found out that that these two sisters were the wife and daughter of the owner of the bus company, but mashaAllah, they never announced this. Anyhow, this loud exchange went on for about….oh….20 minutes. Finally some of the passengers said they were going to call the police if the old lady and her son did not move. That got them up, but they were cursing and making du’a against the travel agency, the seating mudeer, the people who were not on their side, etc. At last, they sat down…all of a sudden militant boy jumps up and decides he’s not through! He’s going to go down and get another LOOK AT THE FACE of the seat assigner so that he doesn’t forget him! Skirmish in the parking lot! Fist-a-cuffs (well, almost) …this guy pulls him off (one of them was my husband?) and he calms down but good grief it was all such a show of heinous machismo. It made me feel ill-inclined towards the lady who, by the way, was now seated behind ME because the original sister behind me was so kind and gave up her seat to go sit in the back where you feel the heat from the motor. Now here we sat, with the lady behind me (Um Muhammad) making loud du’a, “May Allah break the bus!! May Allah break the bus!! Oh, but not till we’re on our way back!” I kid you not.
Pull out of parking lot (FINALLY) at 11:55. We get half-way down Airport Hwy past McDonald’s …suddenly bus stops. Loud voices outside, arms flailing again… Seems the four passengers who were FOUR HOURS LATE decide to show up, not at our scheduled place of departure, but rather on the side of the highway. That’s not all, sisters…they were shouting that they would NOT go on the trip because they did not have seats in front! So four good Samaritans got up and traded around to appease them. I did not budge. Why on earth are you four hours late for Umrah? Nice sister (Um Ahmed) apologized to me and said she was so appalled and embarrassed that I had witnessed such a show of ‘jahl’ by folks who were going on a pilgrimage. I just chuckled. And, we’re off!!
Day 2: Well, since “Day 1” was not really a day, but rather four hours sitting in a parking lot, it ran into Day 2 rather quickly. We did not actually get on the road until after midnight. Bus had a sheikh mushrid (guide) and he made nice du’a for us and told us he was there to answer any questions we might have had. I did not honestly think anyone would ask him any questions. Around 5 a.m. we pulled up to the Saudi border to get our passports checked, use the bathrooms, and pray fajr. Oh, Saudi, how could you? You are the land of may resources, large foreign workforce, money all over the place, why oh why can’t you keep some public restrooms clean?? Not only did I have to cover my face to keep from vomiting, the prayer area was not clean at all. At any rate, we made our prayer and got settled on the bus for the next 12 or so hours ahead.
The rest of the day kind of blurred together because I was fading in and out of sleep. We prayed our dhuhr and asr prayers (combined, although some of the travelers argued with the murshid about the validity of combining prayers) somewhere on the road at one of the truckstop/masjid areas. Then, finally around 5 in the evening, we pulled into the Madina city limits. It had an immediate ‘feel’ to it and I knew that it was going to be a place we would not want to soon leave. After about 10 minutes Masjid an-Nabawi became clear to us and we were all exclaiming on the bus Masha’Allah/Allahu Akbar at the site of its immensity and beauty. We pulled up to the hotel Al-Dakheel and quickly took our luggage up, showered and changed clothes. By the time we got downstairs it was nearly time for maghrib. Having not bought any foodstuffs we were just running down to the masjid in kind of a feverish excitement, not knowing what to expect. When we came to the masjid we saw people sitting neatly in rows spread out with small iftar meals: cups of yogurt, bread, juices, dates, and zam zam water. Abu Farouq sat nearby with some men and almost immediately a tall African looking fellow handed me some crusty bread and a cup of juice and a cup of leban with some zatar on the lid (the Saudis like to mix zatar in their leban and eat it with bread.) Spread out before me was a mini representation of the muslim ummah…all walks of life, shapes, sizes, nationalities, languages, etc., all of us waiting for the adhan and the chance to pray our prayers in Masjid an-Nabawi where the reward of praying one prayer is as if praying 1,000.
SubhanAllah, the adhan came in and we broke our fast on what had been given to us. Abu Farouq went into the men’s area and I kept walking to where the signs were pointing to the Women’s Area. I saw a large group of women standing outside getting ready to pray so I assumed that perhaps the women’s area was already filled up. So I stood in line outside and prayed maghrib there, on the sidewalk. I did not know that there was plenty of room still inside the masjid, but because in Madina they do not allow food to be carried inside, many sisters choose to pray outside and then have a full iftar. I saw large bags filled with to-go plates of rice, biryani, chicken, etc., being distributed to the hungry people. SubhanAllah. The sight of the different people mixed with the giving spirit of Ramadan and the fact that I was standing in the 2nd holiest place in Islam just overwhelmed me and tears began to flow. I’m the kind of person who can cry hearing the adhan on any regular given day, so being here just magnified my emotions!
I was able to meet up with Abu Farouq after maghrib and we looked for a place to eat, since it had been a good 24 hours since having any real sort of meal. We looked and looked but all we saw were shawerma places, which we did not want. So I finally said, “Hey, there’s the Movenpick Hotel, I bet they have a restaurant!” We went in and found a nice buffet with everything you could imagine, but the nicest part was the assortment of juices and yogurts to drink. I had fresh tamarind juice mixed w/ pomegranate…oh yum. Anyhow, we ate quickly so we could get back down to the masjid for prayers. I went in to the bathroom to wash while Abu Farouq paid the bill…eh hem, 207 Riyals, which is about 40 JD!! Not exactly the traveling pilgrims’ kind of budget, but hey, it was one time only, and it was really worth it.
Day 3: Up for fajr and off to the masjid. After fajr we decided to go try to see the Prophet’s grave (pbuh), where Abu Bakr and Omar ibn al-Khattab(ra) are also buried. I was warned before that it could be a tough undertaking, because of the women who know no better and who push and shove and yell and tear at themselves to get to the grave, and upon seeing it, try to kiss it, touch it, etc. All of this is of course undesirable behavior and bid’ah, and I did not want to be a part of it. I did, however, want the chance to see the grave and pray two ra’kah in the Rawdah. So I told Abu Farouq I’d meet him outside in an hour and we set off our separate ways. An hour !! I crack myself up.
Once inside, I noticed that the women were already restless. It was 7 a..m. I tried to orient myself as to the system in place of letting the women through. I noticed various sisters holding signs that read, “Maghrib” or “Indonesia” or “Bilaad as-Sham.” “Masr” had the largest representation of women. Since there was no sister holding up the “United States of America” sign, I went over and sat with the Shami group. Each sister who was in charge of the group was also employed by the masjid to explain to sisters the etiquette of visiting Prophet Muhammad’s grave. It just so happened that my favorite sister Um Ahmed, from the bus, walked in while the lecture was beginning, so we sat and listened eagerly to what the sister said. I was so filled with anticipation and I just kept looking up at the 1000s of rows of arches inside the masjid, and tried to picture what it must have looked like when Prophet Muhammad (saw) and the sahaba first laid the foundation so many years ago. Anyhow, the sister told us that we should, at the grave, make du’a to Allah (not to P. Muhammad as so many people do!!) and if we are able to comfortably do so, pray two ra’kah.
After about an hour had passed, we were ushered with our respected countrywomen (bilaad-as-Sham!) into the area right before the entrance to the grave. It was total chaos, people shoving and pushing and sadly, shouting. One lady was digging what I believed to be her knee into my back as hard as she could, as if that would speed me up. So many of the Egyptian women were saying “Nifsi a-shoofo! Nifsi a-shoofo!” (I want to see him! I want to see him!) and then when we were finally able to enter, they made the “la la la la leeeeee” trillings, which I just could not believe. There was no way to pray the two ra’kah; I was really just making du’a to get out of there without being trampled. This saddened me, because as Muslims we have the ability to act civilized and to listen to instructions, and the good people of Medina go to the trouble to educate the visitors on how to act, but when it comes down to it, most lose all composure. May Allah guide us.
But guess what? Even with all of the undesirable behavior of these women, I was still so thankful to Allah to be there, to keep marveling at the impact that Prophet Muhammad had on our lives, and the love that we have for him. Although some acted in ignorance, I do know that it is this love that we have for the Prophet that overwhelms us and can make the tears flow uncontrollably. The consolation to anyone’s misdoings was that I was in Medinatul-Nabi, standing where the most beloved Prophet of Allah worshipped his Creator, lived his last years, and died. Sallalahu alayhi wa salam.
After I finally met up with my husband (two hours late), it had already gotten quite hot, and it was time to retire to the hotel for a rest.
That evening my husband and I met up with Um Ahmed and her son from our tour group. We all walked to the masjid together right before iftar. I had absentmindedly put my camera in my bag with the intention of taking some shots of Medina after the taraweeh prayers, not thinking that the sisters would check my bag at the entrance to the women’s section. I wanted to break my fast outside where I had the night before, but Um Ahmed insisted that we move inside to the air-conditioned women’s area. Of course, the sister at the door told me that she would have to take my camera if I wanted to enter. So, I opted to stay outside, and Um Ahmed in her graciousness decided to stay with me. We put our prayer mats directly in front of the women’s entrance and waited for the adhan. I looked around at the rows of women with all of their food and thermoses of coffee and tea, and then looked at my and Um Ahmed’s supplies, which consisted of some juice and some dates. I decided to “make the rounds” among the sisters.
I politely excused myself and told her I was going to go get some food for us. I walked over to what looked like some Turkish sisters and said, “Mumkin fee Khubaz?” They understood me, and one of them smilingly handed me a nice-sized loaf of bread. Then I saw a Sudani sister serving tea. I asked her, “Fee kasatain shai?” and she responded affirmatively, handing me two cups of hot tea. Bread and tea! MashaAllah. I walked back to Um Ahmed very pleased with my findings. May Allah reward those sisters. Then, a group of four or five African sisters came and sat down directly in front of us. They had beautiful smiles and kind eyes. I was not sure where they were from, so I asked them in Arabic and found out they were Nigerian but lived in Medina. Because they lived there, they had brought with them many items from home. They handed us each a carton of yogurt, boiled eggs, and some little fried donuts that tasted kind of like funnel cakes that you buy at the fair in the U.S. SubhanAllah! Within five minutes of sitting down, Um Ahmed and I had a scrumptious iftar in front of us. The adhan sounded, and we broke our fast on the dates, zam zam water, and then made egg sandwiches, ate yogurt, and drank hot tea, with little fried donuts for desert. Who could ask for more? I say again, SubhanAllah!
What struck me so deeply was the equality of us all. All of us fasting, all worshipping, all sharing in the blessings of the moment. I had no clue as to who among us drove a fancy car or lived in a villa, or for whom Ramadan was the time when their bellies were the fullest. We were just sisters. SISTERS.
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