In the first of a series of posts documenting his attendance of the Hajj in 2019, GoTravelDaily writer Tharik Hussain shares his experience. This includes initial feelings about the invitation, his journey through the Hajj itself, and reflections on returning to his home in the UK. Read on for a unique insight into one of the most famous pilgrimages in the world that unites Muslims of every ethnic group, social status, and culture in Mecca annually.
One of the earliest Hajj narrators, Naser-e Khosraw, was inspired to go on the pilgrimage in the 11th century after a mystical visitor pointed towards Mecca in a dream. The great 14th-century traveler, Ibn Battuta, had a burning desire to see the famous sanctuaries he had heard so much of. Even the non-Muslim ‘Hajji’, Sir Richard Burton, was motivated to immerse himself in one of the great religious rituals of humanity, and Malcolm X saw the Hajj as confirmation of his transition from a follower of the Nation of Islam to a Muslim. Hajj is a duty that every Muslim is meant to look forward to; however, when my invitation to perform it arrived, I felt none of this.
Muslims believe you do not go on the Hajj, but are invited. Performed once a year on specific days, there have been only 1430 opportunities to undertake the Hajj since it was prescribed as an Islamic duty. This makes it a pretty exclusive club to join. Nevertheless, when my invitation arrived, I felt nothing.
Rather, I worried about the impractical timing, the costs involved, and concluded that I just wasn’t ‘ready’.
My invitation came through my mother. For several years, she had been dropping hints. This included tactics like switching to Islamic TV channels when I visited, allowing her to point at the screen and remark, ‘Aren’t they so lucky?’.
I would nod and change the subject, convincing myself I wasn’t ready. Even when she directly asked me, I had my excuses ready.
Everything changed when I was sent on assignment for GoTravelDaily to Saudi Arabia. After a tough day, I drove south along the barren Red Sea Coast. Looking out the window, I saw the mythical sea that Moses had parted and a flat stretch of lifeless sand on my left. Ahead, the road disappeared into the horizon. Alone in my thoughts, I called a friend in Jeddah. We talked about mundane things to ease my mind, and I ended the call promising to keep him updated.
As the dull landscape changed with the setting sun and the travel time to my destination remained an hour and 35 minutes, I was suddenly struck by a realization. I had been invited to undertake the most significant and transformative journey a Muslim could embark upon, alongside the woman who gave me life, and my worldly concerns had almost led me to miss that blessing. From that moment, I began to shift my perspective.
That was the day I accepted my invitation to the 1431st Hajj and recognized how fortunate I was to have received this honor, especially with my mother accompanying me. It was also the day I began to facilitate preparations for what a friend aptly described as ‘a dress rehearsal for death’.
A few days later, while researching the city of Mecca, I undertook the mini Hajj – umrah – which can be completed year-round in just a few hours. Uncharacteristically, after completing it, I asked a passerby to capture a photo of me in my pilgrim’s attire in front of the revered black cube. This was to fulfill a promise made to my mother before departing England. I sent her the picture, and although unfamiliar with the app, she eventually saw it.
On Monday, August 5th, I will board a Saudi Airlines flight headed for Jeddah with my mother, thereby fulfilling my second promise to her.
