The day after I ended my ihram, an opportunity came to travel back to Makkah with a family of South Asian origins. This was a woman, her two brothers, and her nephew. She and I had shared a mat at Muzdhalifah. Also, the one time I led the salah for a jamaat in our Mina tent, she had really liked it and had come to talk with me about it. I was happy to take the bus with them for 50 riyal. Normally, even a taxi would cost no more than 10 riyal, but this is a money making time for so many working class people in Makkah and Madinah who are not necessarily Saudis themselves. So shops, taxis, buses, hotel staff, restaurants, every one, has a lot at stake in the pressed circumstances of the hajjis and our ad-hoc needs.
The Rainbow at the End
December 2010
The rainbow's end.
My last day at Mina, I of course awoke very early. It didn't help because I had to wait eight hours for the only bus that would transport disabled or non-participatory members of our group plus the bags of those who did participate. In my tent approximately half of the women did not participate [in the Hajj rituals we did during our stay in the Mina camp]. However, once our bags were loaded, I and my new party of five joined two of the other women to head for our last ramy Jamarat. There was a new kind of calm, for me. I began to feel like I really would make it through all the rigors of these rites. Our camp ended by combining zuhr and 'asr prayer, and this left us with the whole afternoon to battle the crowds also headed for the last. The two new members of our group were Arabic speakers, one a second time Hajjah and the other sort of our lady tour guide. Between them was vital information about how to return to Makkah through the various transports.
Actually there was also a calm amongst the millions of hajjis heading for the pavilion with the ramy Jamarat and with many of us holding umbrellas against the sun, we followed the flow of the human river once again, but this time straight not in a circle. Remember, the people walk takes two kilometers once you get to it. No one was pushing, and the flow was even and easy. That is until one of those places where you must decide which floor of the pavilion you will end up on. These options are long before you reach the pavilion, so again you really must some idea before you take up one. We wanted to go to the right, but the path was blocked, so we kept straight. However before we had progressed beyond the turn to the right, the path was opened by the guards and for a brief moment there was a bit of mob scene.
After all these days, you really do learn a little bit of patience and forbearance, and then things even out again. I was the third person behind the two Arabic speaking ladies; my roommate was person four. Once we all decided we would go right, we entered the mob. My roommate not only hesitated, she pulled back. I was torn: Keep up with the Kardashians or stay back with the group from the previous night? I opted for the latter. In that split second we were separated, even though we still had to enter into that same mob. But our larger group was gone in less than 30 seconds! That it's all it took. All hope for some kind of transport back to Makkah went with them.
Nevertheless the experience of the last ramy was uneventful; with that and our du'as duly said, we left the pavilion. We made several failed attempts at finding some transport. In the end we had a walking guide who spoke the same language as the family my roommate and I were attached to. It's about nine kilometers to Makkah from Mina, or five miles. All in all our spirits were high. We were also in another river of people. Once we had cleared the first set of hills/mountains, clouds began to make beautiful formations bringing occasional relief from the sun. We made one last attempt at getting transport just as we ran into a couple from Brooklyn, New York. They assured us that Makkah was just around the bend.
We got separated from them just as those beautiful cloud formations opened up and rain began to fall. At first this was a slight relief, but then it continued to fall and fall and fall. We walked in a torrential rainstorm for more than an hour! The streets were flooded, sometimes with water as high as knee deep. The sun umbrellas were no match for the rain and eventually had to be abandoned. Still, the flood of people moved on unabated by the floods of water. In fact, even this took on a festive mood. Shopkeepers supplied us with bottles of water and fresh fruit, even more if you were up to eating it.
My roommate could not stop complaining about the poor quality of our tour group not to provide us with transportation. I told her, look at it this way: You will never forget this. Imagine coming to the desert to get soaked in the rain walking to Makkah! Her mood worsened when she slipped on some garbage and fell. The drains were inadequate to the task of floating garbage and water. Still, we plodded on. Then I fell, slipping on some peeling from fruit. I told everyone I was fine. And really if it makes any sense, I have to admit, nothing dampened my spirit! I was walking to Makkah, and my feet were not hot with blisters.
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