Now, for me, that was all that mattered. Even when a woman to our right said (in English, nonetheless) that my hair was showing, and it was slightly longer than my scarf at certain points; I had no thoughts for her except this one.
Wow, I am so INTO this Ka'abah, so drawn to it and yearning to circumambulate around it, and if I can to get close enough to touch it, labaykh Allahuma labaykh, here I am Oh Lord, at Your service-I honestly could not imagine what would cause a person to be in the slightest bit interested in a few hairs?! I just kept on, with my dhikr and the pace. The pace that is like a rushing river. The pull, like a string in my heart getting ever more taut.
Soon, she just disappeared.
At another point, an African guy circled close enough to me from behind that his elbow stayed square in my back for more than one of the sides; and so, I told him, in English too, "remove your elbow from my back," and he did, and then he too disappeared.
At the 6th round, I was certain that we would not get close enough to touch the black stone, touch the Ka'abah, kiss the black stone, or even see it among the believers so intense in their closeness. I told my roommate to slowly edge her way out toward the outer circle so that we could end our tawaaf by praying the two rakaats at maqam Ibrahim, the station of Ibrahim. If it was even faintly possible to get to it, there is a lower platform on the side of the Ka'abah just after the black stone.
People who could not descend to this lower lobby are allowed to pray two rakats anywhere directly out from the actual station. In order to pray our two, and to be safe from a stampede of hajjis, we needed to be further out. Fortunately, we were still close and yet safe. We also took turns, such that one of us stood guard over the other-double safe.
Anyway, I really got used to the necessity of the jostle and the necessity of the inconvenience. But still, I would draw the line: jostle there, but not in the shops to buy cheap token souvenirs made in China.
December 3, 2010—Makkah as the Most Romantic City
Besides my falling in love with a rather simplistic architectural structure (after all, it is a cube), I observe the hajj as the most romantic place on the earth. It's definitely a place you should go with your partner, husband, or wife. I have never seen so many Muslim couples so affectionately connected. They hold hands as they pass through the crowded streets. Our hajj guide directed that the stronger one physically, usually the man, should walk behind his wife for saiy and tawaf. That turns out to be the best way to keep up with her: hands on shoulders. I saw this over and over again.
Imagine my thoughts about this reversed order, right? The best position for the man in hajj is behind the woman. It made sense that these guys would literally need to be instructed for such, because their normal way of thinking must be, me first. Yes, yes, our wives are equal, but we're the standard bearers and she must follow our leads. But in the jostle, if the person is behind you, they are more likely to be separated by the crowds. So, the woman gets to the finish line first, by design.
My roommate missed her husband, who is too sick to make the journey. But, not just husbands are missed; it is so important to share those experiences with someone you know. Yesterday evening, I spotted a colleague of mine in the crowd. She was surprised to see me, and although we are not, strictly speaking, on the same page ideologically, we did embrace with the fervor of a chance meeting IN THIS PLACE, at this time. We were lovers and friends. Makkah brings out the love in you.
Even my norms (remember, I hate crowds) have been transformed. I LOVE the crowds here! More on that later, though, because it is so neat to try at least to share the intensity of these devotees of Allah, IN THIS PLACE, at this time—but then that is the gist of it really. Short of one's individual experience with Allah, what you cannot duplicate anywhere else is this ardent devotion coming together with other devotees, the "macro-communication factor," as Nasr Abu Zayd referred to it.
Okay, so there is love of the Ka'abah, love of the mosque, love between family and friends, well, think then about the salah! Personally, I should add, I already love the salah. But sometimes, I am a very bad lover, unfaithful as it were, giving my attention to other loves of the lesser sort. Still in all, I have had a lifetime of love for this ritual. Here, the devotees come from all walks of life and all kinds of persuasions. They line up together, standing in the mosque, on the streets, wherever they are when the call to prayer is made, and they bow down in unison, and they drop to their knees and kiss the ground with their foreheads in submission to Allah! And nowhere and no how can they be separated from this act into ranks of class, race, and gender.
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