Journey to Hajj

The date is June 15, 2024; it is the ninth day of the Islamic month of Dhu al-Hijjah, also known as the Day of 'Arafah after the mountain itself. The temperature is recorded at 49 degrees Celsius. Men and women, dressed in white unwoven robes and white Abayas, respectively, are following the rules and dressing symbolically for ritual pilgrim sanctity (iḥrâm). They have gathered at the Plain of 'Arafât and have taken their stand (wuqûf) of faith before God, pleading for His mercy and forgiveness. This event occurs from slightly before noon until sunset.

Nearly 2.5 million pilgrims are crammed into a 35 km (22 mi) broad space at ground base, where a stream of tents representing every continent, some of which are tentless and armed with white umbrellas, and a line of enormous fans that shoot water, all of whom are shouting in unison, "We are all summoned for Him [Allah]." The only one who is deserving of adoration is Allah, by Himself, and in isolation. He is supreme above all things, deserving of all honor and power.

It has been 20 years since I have first made the journey to Hajj. I must acknowledge that the first travel has a particular emotional and spiritual impact than the second one. If pressed to sum up the journey, I would say that it is an exercise in humanity, love, patience, and perseverance.

If not faith and answering Allah's call to perform the Hajj, then what makes a person endure and endure all the heat, bus overcrowding, people, sleepless hours, walks, and the ability to push past any imagined comfort zone?

The moment you extend your arms wide, look up with an open heart and a crying prayer, repentance, and request, all of your troubles disappear. As you circle the Kabaa to perform the rites, you are pushed aside by large and gentle waves of people attempting to enter and exit the Kabaa. You observe individuals of various colors, races, and backgrounds chanting, humming, and praying.