3:00 am. My eyes opened but my head stuck to the pillow. Felt heavy to get up but slowly removed the blanket feeling as if I was about to lose a precious gold bar or something. The toilet was a few steps away but seemed two km too far.
My wife was already up preparing sahur at the end of the bed. Everyday we will have oats with soaked dates and milk.alhamdulillah so far can hold on until evening. That simple oat meal is not bad after all. Topped a few bits of khubbus from iftar with cream cheese and honey. That’s it and we were ready to go.
By now my body has recovered to face another day of super challenging experience. After the sahur I felt better and strong again. My body nowadays have its good days and bad days. On its bad day the joints ached painfully, my ass heavy like a bag of dirt and emotions just muddled up to the extent that even myself is confused.Once a month like a lady on her period, I will feel so bad, so miserable and hate everybody . A prefect recipe to become a grumpy old man.
This trip, for me, is a retreat. Recharge the diminishing energy and rediscover myself in a new sort of way. Looking myself from the other end. This place can heal (be-izniLlah)—-physically or mentally. Maybe that’s one of the secrets of the desert. For one, I feel better here than being at home. The joints still pain but day by day the inflammation has reduced. My knees are better now. I was so worried that they would cause trouble, I brought my knee guards along. Alhamdulillah so far I can hike the Streets of Mecca beautifully without my knee guards.my blood sugar level is under control despite my daily intake of dates during iftar. My heart feels relaxed and rested even though everyday I sit amidst chaos and constant provocation from aggresive crowds. Usually I avoid crowds and noisy people as they draw my blood pressure to shoot up. Alhamdulillah I hope my spiritual healing is also under way but kinda difficult to assess the impact in a short time. I guess you will know when that happens.
The time is 2:50 pm and I am so sleepy. The place is quiet and the aircon blows cold air — a perfect condition for a good sleep. But the police started to yell now to shoo tired people away from the pathway and into the little boxes they created for men and women. By now I am used to the yelling that tells you to find your place now.
Gender segregation has evolved into something else here in this land. A lady is separated and be given a space for her .She will be protected and secured by everyone around her. This privilege turns her into a queen. Everyone must respect a queen. That means you can’t “touch” her in any sense. She has become a spoiled brat. No one can tell her off or even cross her path. You must let her be. Even in a crowd of millions everyone must make way and let her pass through. If not you are bound to be told off at the waving tips of her hand. The screaming pursues and you made to feel like you have committed the biggest crime. Only for not letting her to pass through. That was insane.
Man, on the same token ,grew to become the “khalifah” and that means he owns everything. This place is mine you better know that and the sad thing was that he meant every single word he said. He thought the world is his and everyone must follow him. The culture of “lordship” is deep rooted since the young age.
Anyway, we leave that for a long and deep consideration in another life. My point to relate here is that if you plan to come, better with friends of the same gender rather than with your spouse. Due to separation of gender happens at many places, you will probably end up alone most of the time.
5:49 pm the wind started to blow the heat away. It leaves behind a sense of gratitude as a relief for a beautiful night to come shortly.
The time for iftar is approaching and chaos pursued. I numbed myself and said my doa.
Met Muaz and his father Salahuddeen ,Moroccans living in Canada.
The dark night was enlightened by the awesome recitation of the Quran by Grand Imam— as Sudais.
