I STEPPED DOWN from my hotel stairs and joined a huge procession of people thronging the streets, all heading to the same way. Maghrib is approaching. Though the prayer time is half an hour away, shopkeepers and vendors are already closing down their stores as I walk pass them, taking my usual route to the Sacred Mosque --
Masjidil Haram.
It's best to come early.
Though the day is shifting slowly to dusk, the heat isn't really receding. With the summer months gradually approaching, daily temperature is soaring high up to 45°C. In many parts of Saudi Arabia -- particularly in the Hijaz region, home of
Al-Haramain, the Two Holy Lands -- it could reach even up to 50°C in July and August, with the air being unkindly dry.
Adding to that, are dust and smoke. Makkah, it seems, is no more serene. Many buildings surrounding the Haraam
area were demolished, leaving extremely bare and barren hills to pave way for the mosque's further enlargements and provisions for better accommodations. The hajj business, apparently, is expanding.
The level of the sa'ie area is to be doubled. So is the
jamrah area, which is undergoing massive expansion works. Opposite the Mosque's King Fahd's Gate, a building complex is under completion --
Abraj Al-Bait or Towers of the House -- housing an already completed avant-garde four-storey retail and shopping complex downstairs (patronising a Starbucks, a Dabenhams, a Topshop, and even La Senza, among others) and five star hotels above. It'll be the tallest in Saudi Arabia, reaching 557 metres total in height, which is taller than the Petronas Twin Towers.
With the exception of prayer times, noise from the works on-going around the mosque resonates in the air of the valley. The hills which have hold witness to what has happened here thousands and thousands years ago -- holding the answer of who has built the Kaaba and from where the Zamzam well originated from -- are increasingly flatted and levelled. Nevertheless, the site was holy today as it is still holy before. Makkah is, apparently, the world's holiest construction site.
The sky is still clear though it's changing its hues, from the bright, striking azure to soft, twilight shades. Suddenly, the sky is thundering. Unlikely.
People are still proceeding with their walk, entering the mosque, taking in their rows of
safs. When it is time, the
azan breaks the murmurs in between the mosque's many marble columns --
zikirs, Quran recitations, and light chatting are put to halt. At the end of the azan, it thunders again.
Usually there would be a 15 to 20 minutes gap in between an azan and an
iqamah -- a second call to signify that a congregational prayer would immediately commence (iqamah means to stand up) -- but that day, only five minutes later, an iqamah was already called out. The imam is already beginning the prayer. In the middle of the Fatihah the imam's recitation was interrupted, him being stumbled upon hearing yet another thunder. By the end of our Maghrib prayer, it is already raining.
It's raining in Masjidil Haram.
Upstairs, people flock to the vast balconies to take a look. Downstairs, people are flocking to the
tawaf area, stairs to the open areas surrounding Kaaba jammed with people -- some already wet -- wanting to catch to rare opportunity of circumambulating the Kaaba with rain pouring over their heads.
It is a sight to behold. People thronged towards the Hijr Ismail area, not letting the opportunity of offering prayers to go away. But that's not the only reason. Rain water is pouring down from Kaaba's roof via the golden spout, onto the Hijr Ismail area, causing an ambitious crowd to hurl over to the small open area that was once a part of Kaaba's inside. Water flowing down from the Kaaba is a very big deal. It's a blessed water, they say, why miss a chance splashing oneself with one?
The Mosque's authorities were fast in preventing this by blocking the Hijr Ismail area, making it totally inaccessible. The Saudis are hardcore fans of the ever-strict, holier-than-thou Wahhabi sect, anyway. Doing something the Prophet didn't do, such as regarding this and that as holy, blessed, sacred et al, i.e stuffs that are
not stated by the Qur'an and the Sunnah, is a big no-no.
Strictly fundamental in nature, these guys in their early days razed all tombs and historical sites in Hijaz to ground to prevent pilgrims from performing 'diverted' rites which are classified as heretical.
At one point, they even sacked the Prophet Mosque in Madinah, destroyed the tombs of Prophet, Abu Bakr and Umar and took hold of the Mosque's treasury. All tombs of the family members and companions of the Prophet in the nearby Baqi' cemetery are untraceable and undetectable until today, thanks to these guys.
Ever since the Ottoman (yes, them again) Empire and Caliphate fall, it is the Saudis who are taking control of the hajj business, the leaders of the absolute monarchy designating themselves with the important title 'Custodian of the Two Holy Mosques'. No Muslim would ever challenge a person with the title this vital. At least, not yet.
The rain didn't last long. Wind blew into the mosque, bringing more dust and heat rather comforting breeze. Some debris escaped from the nearby construction sites, finding their way into Masjidil Haram. Floodlights light up the remaining raindrops falling on the souls who wanted more of it, but the rain just stopped soon after.
A rain in Makkah is a blessing. For some it's miraculous, for others it's luck, accompanied by mercy.
Rahmat, they claim.
Berkat, goes another. All in all, it's a relief for this old city, dubbed
Umm al-Qura -- Mother of Cities -- in the Qur'an, albeit the relief being a short one.
This blessed city of ours sure has gone a long way. From the days of Adam and Eve being met up on Mount of Mercy after being separated after the Fall, Abraham leaving Hagar and Ishmael to their own survival, to the days of the beginning of an underground movement lead by Muhammad later known as Islam, Makkah is
the city to be.
Tunnels cut the hills and old buildings are teared down to make way for the ultra-new ones. Yet, a blessing's still a blessing, a sanctuary is still a sanctuary, and a promise is still a promise. Pilgrims come and go, and the figures just go up year by year, just like what Abraham prayed for thousands of years ago.
I don't think if I performed even a thousand umrah, yet if I'm not learning anything from Makkah, it'll teach me anything. This would go beyond questions. It's a matter of whether I'm thinking using my God-gifted brain, or whether I'm just blindly following what others are doing. I believe, that rituals without belief are merely a waste of God's gift.
God asks me, and you, to learn. Makkah is not holy for nothing. Escapism for faith-searching, it may be. And my faith, I guess, isn't just limited to some mere rituals. This is Islam we're talking about -- the way of life that comes with simplicity to simplify our lives. A simplicity that leads to completeness. Why are some people making it to appear so complicated?
My last glance at the Kaaba was of a mixed feeling. I've taken this chance, but even though I wanted to be sure, a next visit is still beyond my planning. As for every visit, there's a chance to renew. There's a chance to think.
I guess it'd be meaningless, even if you're trying to be so fitting in tucking a new kopiah of yours, carrying gallons of Zamzam home but the fact is you've
learned nothing in Makkah and Madinah. 'Weird' stories and encounters, confessions on being 'insaf' and 'bertaubat' are then prepared to be sold off to crappy magazines like Mastika and Mangga. What are we learning, actually? What are we trying to show?
Maybe the answers are still left behind in the soils of the holy city. The drills are maybe still on-going, the cranes are lifting, and the honks are buzzing in its violent streets. However dreaded the noises would be, there would still be a piece of promise granted for Makkah: an everlasting peace.
One could find it lurking at the alleys of the cosmopolitan
souqs and bazaars. Or maybe in the open barren fields guarded by naked hills under the scorching Arabian sun. Maybe in the deepest of tunnels, or the tallest of minarets.
But if you look carefully, in the end, peace is in the heart.
Listening to: Sheryl Crow - Peace be Upon Us PHOTOS 1. Pigeons fly onto the scaffoldings near Masjidil Haram after sunrise. These pigeons are also known as the 'Bird of Fatima', as their black appearance resembles that of the veil of Fatima, daughter of Prophet Muhammad. 2. An Indonesian man writes on a pillar at the peak of Jabal Rahmah -- Mount of Mercy -- at the Plains of Arafat, the point of where Adam and Eve met after their separation after being sent down to earth from Heaven. Some believe if their names are written on this column, they'll enter Heaven, though this act strictly has no basis whatsoever. On Zulhijjah 9 every year pilgrims will gather here in the plains until sunset as a part of the rites of a much bigger ritual, the hajj.
For everything else, there's Flickr! I deeply regret the spots found in some pictures, if it's not my lens' fault, it'd probably be my sensor's. Will edit 'em if I have time.
AWAY; June 22 -- ???
