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Editor's Note:
This article originally appeared in
the online edition of The Christian Science Monitor on January 30,
2004. This article is part one of a series.
Click
on the titles below to read the other articles
that appear in this series.
The
Pilgrimage to Mecca: One Woman's Journey
A
Saudi journalist prepares to participate in a 1,300-year-old Muslim ritual
By
Faiza Saleh Ambah
[Part
1 of 5]
THURSDAY, JAN. 29, JEDDAH, SAUDI ARABIA � Tomorrow, I leave to perform a central pillar
of Islam, the five-day hajj. But I must confess that as Saudis go, I'm not
particularly religious.
Spending a week with two million Muslims from
more than 120 countries, performing rituals more ancient than Islam itself, in
the largest single gathering at one place for one purpose in the world,
appeals more to the journalist than the Muslim in me.
I am wary of, but no less excited by, the idea
of an appointment in the desert with God. Pilgrims performing the hajj, which
starts Jan. 30 (the eighth day of the last month of the Muslim lunar year),
seem to be answering a call, keeping a promise. "Here I am lord, at your
service, here I am," is the chant that announces the start of the
pilgrimage.
 As
a Muslim with more questions than certainties, I wonder at the meaning of the
daily rituals that make up the pilgrimage: the seven circuits around the Kaaba
(the cube-shaped stone structure in the middle of the Grand Mosque) in Mecca,
the reenactment of the search for water by Ishmael's mother Hagar, the march
to and from the desert, and the vigil on Mount Mercy on the plains of Arafat,
where the last verses of the Koran were revealed.
My sisters Reem and Taghreed, devout and
practicing Muslims for years, don't share my uncertainties. "We don't
know the exact reasons for everything. But we don't have to. God told us to
perform those specific rituals so we do them," Reem tells me. They both
ask me to keep an open mind and perform the hajj with sincere intentions,
which should erase all my sins and leave me as pure as the day I was born.
Taghreed - a perennial student living in Paris
- is very devout, but wants to get closer to God and is hoping that the
strenuous and physically demanding hajj will boost her faith. "God said
following my orders will bring us closer. And he's asked us to perform the
hajj if we're able to."
Reem, a divorc�e with her own business in
Dubai, has a more checkered past and wants to consolidate a new, more devout
persona.
She looks critically in the mirror as she
tries on the white head scarf and long white robe she will wear, checking to
ensure that the contours of her body are not showing.
"I want a fresh start. Performing the
hajj properly will erase all my sins and give me a clean slate." She
smiles and puts out her cigarette. "It's like going through a
detoxification program, and going to the hajj will motivate me to stay
clean."
Before we set off, we will bathe, wear our
special ihram clothes, state our intention to perform the hajj at one
of the five entry points into the sanctified area where the rituals are
performed, and enter a sanctified state called ihram. During the
ritual, which reenacts the pilgrimage made by Muhammad in 632, sexual
abstinence is imposed, and killing or even harming anyone or anything,
including insects and plants, is forbidden.
 As
an outward sign of this state of consecration, women usually wear white
scarves and long robes and are banned from beautifying themselves or trying to
attract male attention. Men wear white towels, one around the waist and one
slung over the left shoulder, leaving the right shoulder exposed. They must
also be bareheaded and unshod, but slippers and sandals are acceptable. The
reason, says my cousin Allal - a businessman who has studied with Islamic
scholars - is that all men will be equal before God physically as well as
spiritually. Over dinner he give us a lecture about the meaning of hajj. This
is also a dress rehearsal for the day of judgment, he warns. "Like a quiz
before the test, to prepare us. Those who are not there will not be
prepared."
In preparation for this journey, which every
able-bodied Muslim is supposed to perform at least once in his or her
lifetime, I am reading "One Thousand Roads to Mecca" an anthology of
10 centuries of travelers writing about the hajj, edited by Michael Wolfe.
The appearance of the hajj has changed
dramatically, with jets flying people in, buses and cars replacing camels, and
Internet access and surveillance cameras set up all over the four cities in
which the hajj is performed. Yet the actual ritual has remained unchanged in
more than 1,300 years.
The past few nights, I've drifted to sleep
with the tales of various accounts by converts, Arab Muslims, spies, and fake-
Muslim adventurers in my head. I'm starting to realize that though hajj is a
community ritual, it is also a very personal journey, and like almost
everything else in life, you get out of it only as much as you put in.
For that reason, I will try to perform these
rituals with an open mind and an open heart. I might not share my sisters'
devotion, but I will at least try to grasp and convey it.
Next:
My first day on the hajj
Click on the
titles below to read the other articles that
appear in this series.
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