In the second installment of GoTravelDaily writer Tharik Hussain’s Hajj diaries, he guides us through his family’s experience as they leave England for Saudi Arabia and prepare for his first performance of this ancient Islamic ritual. You can learn how his invitation to the Hajj came about in 2019 and what motivated him to embark on this sacred journey.
The Arrival and the Hardship
‘If you ask a hundred people what this means to them, everyone will say something different to you,’ said Sheikh Suleiman as he pushed my aunt’s wheelchair. Our guide for the Hajj was a tall, handsome man with a warm smile. When he walked, it was with the kind of grace and dignity I had seen earlier in others as they circled the Kaaba. Our group of six Hajjis, including two in wheelchairs, were the second group the Sheikh had led through the umrah rituals that day, each taking nearly four hours. It was a wonderful privilege to have him all to ourselves, and now, as we headed out of the world’s largest mosque, he wanted to know what the Hajj meant to me.
There were numerous meanings. However, one of the most beautiful is unity. Living in England, I was accustomed to being around people from all over the world, yet here, I felt a special connection to an Afghan thumbing his tasbiyyah (prayer beads); I understood why tears flowed from the eyes of an Indonesian; and I yearned for the prayers of a niqab-wearing Saudi woman to be answered. The pinnacle and most visually striking example of this unity is the tawaf – an essential feature of the Hajj – where seemingly disparate individuals move in unison around the symbol of God’s oneness, the Kaaba.
The Different Options for Performing the Hajj
There are three main ways most people perform the Hajj: Qiraan, Thamattu, and Ifraad. We chose to perform Hajj Thamattu, meaning that we entered a state of purity, ihram, first to complete umrah, then came out of it for a few days, before assuming ihram again on the 8th day of the Islamic month of Dhu’l Hijjah.
So far, our journey had been surprisingly smooth. Despite an industrial strike at London’s Heathrow airport threatening chaos, we arrived to find our flight on schedule and a terminal curiously quiet. Check-in and security took less than an hour. The Hajjis in our group, including my mother, perceived this as divine intervention. ‘It’s the quietest I’ve ever known it,’ said Tristan, a Heathrow assistant from Goa, sensing my astonishment. The serenity seemingly accompanied us onto the plane.
Apart from one individual who forgot his two white sheets to assume ihram onboard – the eventual rescue by someone carrying a spare set was also viewed as divine intervention – the flight passed with little incident. Once the pilot announced we were flying over the station for assuming ihram, the cabin, filled with men in white sheets and women in their chosen attire, began to announce their intentions: ‘Here I am! O Allah! Here I am at Your service!’ We chanted in rhythmic unison repeatedly.
Our family group consisted of my mother, my aunt (her twin) and her son, Rafique. Our mothers were experienced Hajjis and were performing these in remembrance of those who had passed on. My mother was doing the Hajj for their late father, while my aunt performed it for her late son. As we left the plane to board shuttle buses in the relative cool of the Saudi night, both of them reminded us of the many hours spent standing under the scorching desert sun with our fathers at this very airport during their last visit. We all wondered what awaited us this time.
The bus pulled up at a terminal even emptier than Heathrow. Entering the cool air-conditioned immigration area, a Saudi wearing a red-and-white keffiya welcomed us: ‘Assalamu alaikum, welcome to Saudi Arabia.’ I pondered if we were in the right place.
With only passengers from our plane making up the queues, the necessary pictures and thumbprints took almost no time, and we soon found ourselves in a remarkably relaxed arrivals hall. Men in white sheets meandered past towards the terminal’s mosque to pray in congregation, while others queued to exchange money or headed for a coffee bar. Remarkably, no one lost their luggage – only a wheelchair momentarily – and we were treated with dignity and respect at immigration. A mere two hours after disembarking from Saudi Air flight SV112, we were watching the bright lights of Jeddah disappear behind us as our coach turned onto the highway leading to Islam’s holiest city.
We had experienced none of the legendary horrors associated with arriving in Saudi Arabia during the Hajj, which felt surreal. My mother and the Hajjis again saw divine intervention in this smooth experience.
Tomorrow, we leave for the pilgrimage proper, camping in the mountains surrounding Mecca to engage in ancient rituals. In doing so, we will connect with the great prophets, from Muhammad through Ibrahim, all the way back to Adam and Eve. However, this will be done alongside an estimated 2.5 million Hajjis, creating yet another magnificent display of the Hajj’s famous oneness, and another meaning for the Hajj, one yet to be experienced when the Sheikh questioned me: hardship.
My Hajj diaries will now go offline, as my focus shifts entirely towards my Hajj. The next installment will appear after the completion of the pilgrimage when I can officially be called a ‘Hajji’.
