There were many sudden deaths up there. On our way to Muzdalifah, the traffic jam indicated an accident and sure enough, I saw an African brother lying on the road, in full ihram - and in his own pool of blood. Syahid. InsyaAllah. For our Prophet Muhammad s.a.w once said that the person who died in ihram, bury him in his ihram, for on the Day of Judgement, that ihram will be his witness. MasyaAllah... what touched me were his friends - there were about three of them - and all of them, skin dark, ihram white, looked either forlornly at their slain brother or had a lost look about them. You see, me and my fellow Malaysians had a coach to ferry us from Arafah to Muzdalifah. However, these pilgrims, as many, many others, WALKED from Arafah to Muzdalifah. Those brothers must have tried to cross the road when the accident happened. And Muzdalifah was just across that road, a few steps away...
In Mina, an old Chinese pilgrim sat by the fence, apparently tired. He was alone. On my friend's way back to our tent, he was already covered with newspapers. Our own jemaah, an old man, went for umrah with his nephew and got separated somehow from the young man. The cleaners found him sitting down quietly at the Saie. He was sitting for a long time and of course everyone thought he was tired, being old and such. The cleaners got suspicious - went up to him. And yes - Innalillah. Another jemaah came to Mecca with her mother. She was just in her early 40s. They just reached the hotel, when the mother found her pretty sick, went down to get the doctor - and found her already lifeless. Apparently, her diabetes level went up so high, she must have entered into coma. Innalillah. She was supposed to protect her mother, but Allah called her to HIM first.
It rained twice in Mecca - which was quite an extraordinary thing to happen, for the locals said Mecca normally experiences rain only once a year. On both occasions, alhamdulillah, I was in Mecca. The first time it rained, there were thunder and lightning and it was pretty scary, to be in Masjidil Haram and to see the lightning flashing outside the walls and windows. When we went out after Isya' prayers - there was flood! Right at the courtyard. Flashflood. A person went syahid they said. The second time it rained, I was in my room - alone, because all of my roommates were at the Haram, performing their tawaf haji. As soon as it rained (I remember the strong winds), I could hear very loud takbirs all the way to my room - it was surreal. Then I heard the ambulance sirens - many, many sirens. When my roommates came back, they told of how while they were doing the tawaf at the Mataaf, pilgrims from inside the Haram ran out INTO the Mataaf (they believed that those doing the tawaf during a rain will get their sins washed out by rain) - and of course, being slippery, many fell in front of my roommates' eyes. And some were stepped on. Innalillah.
My husband sat beside an Indonesian who recounted how he and his group were pushing their way across the flow of tawaf, to get to the Hajar Aswad, when one of them fell, and the rest fell like dominoes. He saw his friend's face crushed by the pilgrims and he freaked out - he pushed back out of the flow. Innalillah. Six Indonesians went syahid that moment.
While waiting for my husband to finish his prayers, I was outside the Saie area, at the courtyard. It happened to be the pathway where the bodies of those who died were carried into the Haram for their last prayers rite. And so I saw, almost ten bodies, one after another, passed in front of me. You can tell their nationalities by the clothes worn by their bearers - they were Indonesians, Chinese, and Pakistanis, I think. Only one jenazah had his face exposed - an old Indian/Pakistani man. Was I scared? Not at the moment. Death, then, was as real as Life. After every prayers, we would surely solat sunat jenazah too. It became routine, part of solat at the Haram and Masjidil Nabi.
I felt the transience of life - that this life inside of me was truly not mine to hold and control. It is HIS. Awesome. So, what do I do with this life? This amanah? Truly and simply, to be good and do good with HIS help, HIS taufik and hidayah. For it is also HIM who choose whom HE wants to be good and do good. THAT, is a scary thought. Very scary. What if HE does not choose me - Naauzubillah. Ya Allah! Have mercy on me and my family - please keep us always on YOUR straight path and not let us leave this world except with your name on our lips and minds. Ameen.
Our ustaz said those who passed away there were the chosen ones - called back by Allah while at HIS HOUSE, in HIS blessed. InsyaAllah, Jannah is awaiting all of them - MasyaAllah.
Question is - do you want to be among the chosen ones? Did I want to be among the chosen ones?
Your answer is as good as mine.
Saturday, January 29, 2011
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
A 16-year old's wisdom
".......And we fight, through the hurt
And we cry and cry and cry and cry
And we live and we learn
And we try and try and try and try
And its up to you
And its up to me
That we meet in the middle
on our way back down to earth
"....when there's no road
to get to your heart -
......let's start over again...
And so sang a 16 year old boy. -JB-
And we cry and cry and cry and cry
And we live and we learn
And we try and try and try and try
And its up to you
And its up to me
That we meet in the middle
on our way back down to earth
"....when there's no road
to get to your heart -
......let's start over again...
And so sang a 16 year old boy. -JB-
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Have you?
Have you ever seen a father pulls a switchblade, opens it, and puts the blade on a table in a restaurant, in full view of the public? One of his son teared and the other was fuming mad.
Well, I have.
And it could only happen in JB.
Well, I have.
And it could only happen in JB.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Hajj Contemplations 3: Brothers and sisters in Islam
Imagine the Irsyad field. Imagine that on every inch of the field stands an Irsyadian. There is hardly any space which separates them. Packed? Crowded? Unimaginable? That is about the closest I can try to describe the scene we went through daily as we walked on Masjidil Haram's courtyard. Only that the Masjidil Haram's courtyard is at least TWICE the size of IRsyad's field and that our brothers and sisters came in every shape, sizes and colour you can imagine. If you came late for a prayer, you might just have to literally stepped over legs and prayer mats, albeit trying to be apologetic at the same time. Feet fascinated me. The Nigerian ladies hardly put on shoes, nor do the Pakistani men. HOwever, these ladies are most creative - they had their feet smeared with henna and by covering their soles and half of their upper feet with this medicinal adornment, their feet actually looked like they were wearing darkish orange footwear. Since they go about bare-footed, henna seemed like an excellent, natural foot protector. Ingenious...
To say I was overwhelmed by the ukhuwah is still such an understatement. There is always magic when a Turkish or South African or Chinese sister smiled at you. I once peered into a prayer book of a Chinese sister and was fascinated by the Chinese characters/translation right underneath the Arabic text. Yes. I was. I had never seen the Arabic language translated in Chinese characters. Where we could not communicate, a smile would suffice to break all boundaries of languages, all cultures, all customs. We were one. To know that the about 3 million pilgrims there with me was but just a slice of Allah's believers on this Earth was humbling - most humbling. Yes. All pretensions and arrogance and distinctions of nationalities disappeared. We were all Allah's servants, after only one thing - His redha.
The Indonesians are the most well-organized, most visible. Each group coming from different districts wore their own distinctive 'uniform' - they drapped themselves in colourful scarves or wore different coloured batik outfits. They are also most systematic and organized - they would always move in their own groups, complete with matching flags and banners. Imagine a whole flock of pink-scarved or glitzy yellow scarved pilgims circling the Kaabah and you could guess how awesome they looked. There is definitely strength in numbers and togetherness. They are also the most congenial and most generous with their smiles and food. This, when you take into account that most of them are not well-off and came from remote Indonesian villages, who could barely afford the flight fees. However, they also had the most visible number of young pilgrims for apparently the younger ones could get bank loans easily and could repay at their own ease when they get back from hajj.
The Pakistani and Turkish men are the most caring to their womenfolk. They would walk their women into the women's area in Masjidil Haram, sternly warned their women not to move from that particular place and then walked off to the men's section. They'll be the first to pop their heads over the dividers, looking for their womenfolk again. Towards the end of my stay, Masjidil Haram started looking like a family picnic ground - the Turkish and Pakistani pilgrims would be having meals in the Haram itself. Also, men and women pilgrims could be seen side by side praying, something which I never got used to. It even irked me to have the presence of men just behind me or in front or anywhere where I could sense them.
To say I was overwhelmed by the ukhuwah is still such an understatement. There is always magic when a Turkish or South African or Chinese sister smiled at you. I once peered into a prayer book of a Chinese sister and was fascinated by the Chinese characters/translation right underneath the Arabic text. Yes. I was. I had never seen the Arabic language translated in Chinese characters. Where we could not communicate, a smile would suffice to break all boundaries of languages, all cultures, all customs. We were one. To know that the about 3 million pilgrims there with me was but just a slice of Allah's believers on this Earth was humbling - most humbling. Yes. All pretensions and arrogance and distinctions of nationalities disappeared. We were all Allah's servants, after only one thing - His redha.
The Indonesians are the most well-organized, most visible. Each group coming from different districts wore their own distinctive 'uniform' - they drapped themselves in colourful scarves or wore different coloured batik outfits. They are also most systematic and organized - they would always move in their own groups, complete with matching flags and banners. Imagine a whole flock of pink-scarved or glitzy yellow scarved pilgims circling the Kaabah and you could guess how awesome they looked. There is definitely strength in numbers and togetherness. They are also the most congenial and most generous with their smiles and food. This, when you take into account that most of them are not well-off and came from remote Indonesian villages, who could barely afford the flight fees. However, they also had the most visible number of young pilgrims for apparently the younger ones could get bank loans easily and could repay at their own ease when they get back from hajj.
The Pakistani and Turkish men are the most caring to their womenfolk. They would walk their women into the women's area in Masjidil Haram, sternly warned their women not to move from that particular place and then walked off to the men's section. They'll be the first to pop their heads over the dividers, looking for their womenfolk again. Towards the end of my stay, Masjidil Haram started looking like a family picnic ground - the Turkish and Pakistani pilgrims would be having meals in the Haram itself. Also, men and women pilgrims could be seen side by side praying, something which I never got used to. It even irked me to have the presence of men just behind me or in front or anywhere where I could sense them.
There were also times when I am reminded of those who are back home. It became something I looked forward to. I 'saw' Mdm Suhaidah in a Japanese pilgrim, 'saw' Yati in the sparkling eyes of an Indonesian sister - was that 'Cikgu Zul' on the escalator? Yes, there was 'Ms Amnah' and 'Dyja' too. Was that 'Harith' cave at Uhud, where the Prophet s.a.w took refuge when he was injured? Or were my ears playing tricks? I used to 'see' Ariff Tan in the faces of almost all the Chinese brothers - there was old, wrinkled 'Ariff Tan' as he talked to his wife, there was 'Ariff Tan' in the sprightly young Chinese guy as he breezed past the marbled floors. There was a time too when I would be seeing 'Abu' almost everywhere... You'll have to guess in whose pilgrim's face mirrored his... :) And Ayse, dear Ayse..I saw 'her' in the faces of the lovely Arabic and Turkish ladies.
And thus, it goes without saying that Islam unite people of all races, creed and colour under the umbrella of Allah's Oneness.
( One thing that impressed me was the fact that English - despite its aristocratic nobility and status related standing when well spoken - was pretty redundant and obsolete back in the Land of the Prophet s.a.w. and in Allah's House. The same could not be said of Bahasa Melayu/Indonesia - that was extensively used. You know that the shopowners took pains to learn a few useful phrases - proof of the economic pull of knowing that language. I felt proud to see even translation in Malay at the major signs in Masjid Nabawi! The Arabic language was supreme - and it was beautiful when I heard it being spoken with all expressiveness. And the words of Allah were mesmerising in the simple beauty with which they were recited in His House. Yessir. Arabic lessons would be my top priority back home, insyaAllah.)
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Hajj Contemplations 2 : Madinah al-Munawwarah
Sallu ala Rasulillah, Habibil Mustapha
Peace be upon the Messenger, The Chosen One
Khairu-khalkiillah
Madinah is a peaceful place. The people are friendly, courteous and always smiling. The shop owners would greet us with ‘Malaysia baguuzzz!’ and 'Lihat dulu' in all the glory of their Arabic tongues and slangs. The weather was cool – wonderful, for Madinah was about to enter its cold season. Madinah wasn’t humid – the air was dry. It was however, pleasant to walk in the vicinity of Masjid Nabawi. There was hardly any cars during the day and the peace and splendor of Masjid Nabawi beckoned one always, enticing and drawing hujjaz to its blessed courtyard and even more blessed occupants, Prophet Muhammad s.a.w, Saidina Abu Bakar r.a. and Saidina Umar r.a. One goes about one's daily live always with the consciousness that one is within the presence of Allah’s Chosen One and his blessed, trusted Companions.
We would wake up at about two in the morning and walked to Masjid Nabawi, a mere five minutes’ walk and it was safe – for there were already throngs of other pilgrims making their way there too. We would be greeted as usual, by the lady guards – and they were fastidious in searching our bags, looking out for camera handphones. My Blackberry more than once was to be sent for ‘Titip amanah!’ (safekeeping), of which I promptly went out and went in through another gate. These lady guards were something – I always wondered who they were behind their black veils – they were very thorough in their work – so trustworthy were they that no ladies could go by them without our bags being searched. Some were task-oriented but some were very kind and apologetic. These ladies could speak a splattering of Malay phrases albeit in the Indonesian slang. They would address us with ‘Ibuk! Ibuk! Jalan Ibuk, jalan!’ or simply pushed us if we failed to understand them! Their voices were shrill and high-pitched and my room-mates remarked that if I were to put on the dark veils, I could pass as one of these guards easy enough!
When we visited Jabal Uhud, I fell in love with it all over again. Jabal Uhud never fails to fill me with awe and inspiration. Truly, the Prophet Muhammad s.a.w has spoken that Uhud loves us, and we love Uhud. How true! To be there, reliving the Uhud battle, internalizing the sacrifice of our early Muslim brothers is an indescribable experience. To look upon the graveyard of the martyrs, to feel the reality of their existence even in death, was a motivation for me not to be so consumed with the humdrum of trivial daily living. Allahu Akbar!
Above all, I could feel the presence of our beloved Prophet s.a.w in Madinah, as if he is gazing down upon us. Throughout the eight days there, I could visit him only thrice and later found out that I was lucky to visit Raudhah for that many times. To visit the Prophet s.a.w’s Maqam, you have to wait and wait and wait – obeying instructions from the lady guards and when you finally are allowed in the Raudah, it became a mad rush to be near the Prophet s.a.w and to do solat at the pillars. There were several deaths at the Raudah towards the end of my week in Madinah. A lady hujjaz was crushed as she lay prostrated at one of the pillars. I was able to perform solat during my first and second visit, but on the third visit, we were packed literally like sardines that I did my solat standing. The emotional euphoria was overwhelming there – the thought that the blessed jasad of our Prophet s.a.w was behind that iron grill would send any believer into a surreal existence, of going back into time and imagining our Prophet s.a.w there, at the Raudhah praying, walking, talking to his Companions, receiving guests, being with Aisyah r.a, imagining him smiling, radiant – a leader, a husband, a friend, and above all, Allah’s Chosen one, Habibil Mustapha. Ya Allah! Please accept us, our children, our family, our friends and relatives as the Prophet Muhammad s.a.w ummah who will receive his shafaat – Ameen Ya Rabb!
To visit Madinah is to know that what you read of Prophet Muhammad s.a.w, his family, his companions - his live, his sacrifices - are all REAL. May Allah let us visit you once again, Ya Rasulullah s.a.w. ! Ameen..
(Five days into our ziarah in Madinah, just five days of separation from our family back in Singapore, when I was still grappling with the emotional bliss of being in Madinah and the pining for those I left behind, one of my room-mates, Kak Mas, burst into the room crying, “Kenapa dia pergi dulu! Anak saya dah meninggal!” Shocked, I was by her side when she tearfully recounted that she had just received news that her youngest child, an 18-year old boy, had passed away suddenly on his first day of work in Singapore. He was breathless, fell unconscious, and passed away. Just like that. Innalillah… All four of us, her room-mates, were speechless. I felt numbed and could only sympathized with her – as any mother would -imagining how she felt, how it would be for her to go back only to be greeted with one family member less.How strong she and her husband were to continue with their hajj ibadah in all humility and acceptance and still believing in the goodness of Allah's Will - all for the redha of Allah s.w.t! I felt ashamed too, again, and thanked Allah no end, for at least, insyaAllah, my separation with my children was for 44 days, not for eternity until Qiamat. Ya Rabb! How You teach this silly servant of yours the Greatness of Your Will and the beauty of Your Mercy…)
Peace be upon the Messenger, The Chosen One
Khairu-khalkiillah
Madinah is a peaceful place. The people are friendly, courteous and always smiling. The shop owners would greet us with ‘Malaysia baguuzzz!’ and 'Lihat dulu' in all the glory of their Arabic tongues and slangs. The weather was cool – wonderful, for Madinah was about to enter its cold season. Madinah wasn’t humid – the air was dry. It was however, pleasant to walk in the vicinity of Masjid Nabawi. There was hardly any cars during the day and the peace and splendor of Masjid Nabawi beckoned one always, enticing and drawing hujjaz to its blessed courtyard and even more blessed occupants, Prophet Muhammad s.a.w, Saidina Abu Bakar r.a. and Saidina Umar r.a. One goes about one's daily live always with the consciousness that one is within the presence of Allah’s Chosen One and his blessed, trusted Companions.
We would wake up at about two in the morning and walked to Masjid Nabawi, a mere five minutes’ walk and it was safe – for there were already throngs of other pilgrims making their way there too. We would be greeted as usual, by the lady guards – and they were fastidious in searching our bags, looking out for camera handphones. My Blackberry more than once was to be sent for ‘Titip amanah!’ (safekeeping), of which I promptly went out and went in through another gate. These lady guards were something – I always wondered who they were behind their black veils – they were very thorough in their work – so trustworthy were they that no ladies could go by them without our bags being searched. Some were task-oriented but some were very kind and apologetic. These ladies could speak a splattering of Malay phrases albeit in the Indonesian slang. They would address us with ‘Ibuk! Ibuk! Jalan Ibuk, jalan!’ or simply pushed us if we failed to understand them! Their voices were shrill and high-pitched and my room-mates remarked that if I were to put on the dark veils, I could pass as one of these guards easy enough!
When we visited Jabal Uhud, I fell in love with it all over again. Jabal Uhud never fails to fill me with awe and inspiration. Truly, the Prophet Muhammad s.a.w has spoken that Uhud loves us, and we love Uhud. How true! To be there, reliving the Uhud battle, internalizing the sacrifice of our early Muslim brothers is an indescribable experience. To look upon the graveyard of the martyrs, to feel the reality of their existence even in death, was a motivation for me not to be so consumed with the humdrum of trivial daily living. Allahu Akbar!
Above all, I could feel the presence of our beloved Prophet s.a.w in Madinah, as if he is gazing down upon us. Throughout the eight days there, I could visit him only thrice and later found out that I was lucky to visit Raudhah for that many times. To visit the Prophet s.a.w’s Maqam, you have to wait and wait and wait – obeying instructions from the lady guards and when you finally are allowed in the Raudah, it became a mad rush to be near the Prophet s.a.w and to do solat at the pillars. There were several deaths at the Raudah towards the end of my week in Madinah. A lady hujjaz was crushed as she lay prostrated at one of the pillars. I was able to perform solat during my first and second visit, but on the third visit, we were packed literally like sardines that I did my solat standing. The emotional euphoria was overwhelming there – the thought that the blessed jasad of our Prophet s.a.w was behind that iron grill would send any believer into a surreal existence, of going back into time and imagining our Prophet s.a.w there, at the Raudhah praying, walking, talking to his Companions, receiving guests, being with Aisyah r.a, imagining him smiling, radiant – a leader, a husband, a friend, and above all, Allah’s Chosen one, Habibil Mustapha. Ya Allah! Please accept us, our children, our family, our friends and relatives as the Prophet Muhammad s.a.w ummah who will receive his shafaat – Ameen Ya Rabb!
To visit Madinah is to know that what you read of Prophet Muhammad s.a.w, his family, his companions - his live, his sacrifices - are all REAL. May Allah let us visit you once again, Ya Rasulullah s.a.w. ! Ameen..
(Five days into our ziarah in Madinah, just five days of separation from our family back in Singapore, when I was still grappling with the emotional bliss of being in Madinah and the pining for those I left behind, one of my room-mates, Kak Mas, burst into the room crying, “Kenapa dia pergi dulu! Anak saya dah meninggal!” Shocked, I was by her side when she tearfully recounted that she had just received news that her youngest child, an 18-year old boy, had passed away suddenly on his first day of work in Singapore. He was breathless, fell unconscious, and passed away. Just like that. Innalillah… All four of us, her room-mates, were speechless. I felt numbed and could only sympathized with her – as any mother would -imagining how she felt, how it would be for her to go back only to be greeted with one family member less.How strong she and her husband were to continue with their hajj ibadah in all humility and acceptance and still believing in the goodness of Allah's Will - all for the redha of Allah s.w.t! I felt ashamed too, again, and thanked Allah no end, for at least, insyaAllah, my separation with my children was for 44 days, not for eternity until Qiamat. Ya Rabb! How You teach this silly servant of yours the Greatness of Your Will and the beauty of Your Mercy…)
Hajj Contemplations 1 : The Reluctant One
All Praises and gratitude be to Allah, Lord of the Worlds and prayers and blessings be upon Prophet Muhammad s.a.w., to his family, his companions and all those who follow him.
Alhamdulillah, my husband and myself are safely back in JB on Saturday, 27th November. The eight hours flight home was most uneventful and I could not sleep out of sheer anxiousness and excitement to meet my children and family. Thirty minutes to landing, after the pilot announced that the landing process was commencing, I thought the air suddenly became still - as though the engines have been switched off. The feeling then was that the plane was gliding - and I could feel pressure up my ears. At that moment, my husband who was asleep, woke up and true enough, he wondered aloud why it was quiet and the plane felt like not moving. When the pressure seemed unbeareable, the engines started again, and cool air flowed in. The landing was smooth, but the change in air pressure was too much for some - one old lady exclaimed she had a terrible headache, a few were cupping their ears and i was furiously chewing Strepsils. When i finally saw my father, then Nina, then Halim, Hadi, Hafiz and Haziq, my mother, sis and her husband, i broke down.Alhamdulillah! Allah has protected my family and has reunited us after 44 days.(Halim told me later that he had just learned what I experienced just now is a procedure followed by a pilot when he wanted to lose the plane's height quickly - ie. switched off all engines and truly let the plane 'glide' down...)
The whole hajj experience has been truly most inspiring and unforgettable. It is not easily describable either, but I want to try and share that experience for I want to give glad tidings for those who are despairing, that Allah's Will overcome everything else and nothing happens without that Will and since He is Most Merciful and Beneficient, then everything that happened to us is everything that we need.
You see, i was a reluctant hujjaz. I never took seriously my husband's announcement that we were going for hajj this year. I worried over who would look after the children, especially Nina. I worried on where to look for a temporary maid. I worried about my dear S5C girls and my Art students. I worried about my S4 and S2 papers. In short, I worried over my worldly affairs. I never really could concentrate 100% when we went for the hajj course at the mosque every Sunday - Nina would sit quietly for like ten minutes, then I have to cater to her tantrums for the next one hour or so. It was my husband who went out of his way - calling his contacts in JB and KL to ensure that I could go with him. When we finally surrendered my passport (on the fourth day of Hari Raya) it dawned on me that I was lacking and unsure of the rites of hajj. So i went on a self-study streak. Ustazah Muayanah was my point of reference and dear Cikgu Zul opened up a 'talian haji' - he was most helpful in giving me a crash course on hajj. EVen then, I was holding on to TH's letter that my flight would be the last one, on 10.11.2010. For one whole week, I couldn't enter JB because I had no passport. On Wednesday, 14th November, I was to get my temporary passport. The 'bomb' was dropped at about 11.00 a.m. - my husband called to say that our flight was Thursday, 15th November at 7.30 am. via SEnai Airport. Less than 24 hrs notice! It was madness - but true. Frantically passing to dear Mr Esmadi my papers, quick goodbyes and bewildered looks from my colleagues - Cikgu Zul again was most comforting.Ms Amnah and the rest of the Management team was most reassuring. I am deeply touched and forever indebted to them. Furious smses to my girls and Ammar. Allah help them all in their exams. I went straight to get my temporary passport - still calling up TH to try and delay my flight. No can do. If i missed the flight, I woud have to pay RM$4,000 as compensation. I am ashamed to say that I actually toyed with the idea of paying up...astargfirullah...
Back in JB, I had little time to think - just act. There were the clothes to pack, instructions for Halim who will be the leader in the family now - it was about 3.00 amthat I fell asleep and was up by 5.00 am. My feelings were numbed and I was going through the motion zombie-like. When I finally checked-in, waving at my family, I saw Nina smiling. I was relieved. A miracle she was not crying. I did not turn back. Point of no return.
When I collected my passport and my boarding pass, I found out my husband's passport was missing! TH officers frantically searched and apologetically declared that his passport was in KL! Believe it or not, we missed our flight to Jeddah. The only two would-be pilgrims left behind. Our plane took off and we were at Starbucks, SEnai Airport, awaiting our fate. I remembered my reluctance and I immediately felt deep remorse and begged for Allah to forgive me. HE was testing me, I know, testing my sincerity and the immediacy of HIS Will left me a sense of awe. I prayed fervently for HIS mercy, not anger. By noon, TH officers announced that they were going to send us to KL - on a flight fully paid by them. So we took a flight to KLIA, from there to Kelana Jaya (TH KL's HQ), then back to KLIA for a flight at 1.20 a.m.
I gave thanks to Allah fervently. We landed at Madinah! So, Cikgu Zul, we actually 'missed' the chaotic conditions in Jeddah (the long wait, the dirty toilets as told by my roommates, not to mention the 8 hr bus journey from Jeddah to Madinah) - Allahu Akbar! Allahu Hafiz! We are but HIS servants...
(When I did my first tawaf at the Mataaf, gazing at HIS HOUSE, i cried copiously, fully aware, feeling very, very small - that I was there because HE wanted me to be there - HE knew that if given more time, I would be looking for excuses to delay my flight - so HE PLUCKED me from my comfort zone - to be HIS guest...and I regretted my selfishness...Allah has blessed me 45 years of beautiful life - and I could not even sacrificed 44 days - a day out of every year that HE has given me - to be with HIM, to remember HIM, to be HIS true servant..Ya Allah! Ya Allah! Ya Allah! Labbaikallah humma labbaik! ....)
Alhamdulillah, my husband and myself are safely back in JB on Saturday, 27th November. The eight hours flight home was most uneventful and I could not sleep out of sheer anxiousness and excitement to meet my children and family. Thirty minutes to landing, after the pilot announced that the landing process was commencing, I thought the air suddenly became still - as though the engines have been switched off. The feeling then was that the plane was gliding - and I could feel pressure up my ears. At that moment, my husband who was asleep, woke up and true enough, he wondered aloud why it was quiet and the plane felt like not moving. When the pressure seemed unbeareable, the engines started again, and cool air flowed in. The landing was smooth, but the change in air pressure was too much for some - one old lady exclaimed she had a terrible headache, a few were cupping their ears and i was furiously chewing Strepsils. When i finally saw my father, then Nina, then Halim, Hadi, Hafiz and Haziq, my mother, sis and her husband, i broke down.Alhamdulillah! Allah has protected my family and has reunited us after 44 days.(Halim told me later that he had just learned what I experienced just now is a procedure followed by a pilot when he wanted to lose the plane's height quickly - ie. switched off all engines and truly let the plane 'glide' down...)
The whole hajj experience has been truly most inspiring and unforgettable. It is not easily describable either, but I want to try and share that experience for I want to give glad tidings for those who are despairing, that Allah's Will overcome everything else and nothing happens without that Will and since He is Most Merciful and Beneficient, then everything that happened to us is everything that we need.
You see, i was a reluctant hujjaz. I never took seriously my husband's announcement that we were going for hajj this year. I worried over who would look after the children, especially Nina. I worried on where to look for a temporary maid. I worried about my dear S5C girls and my Art students. I worried about my S4 and S2 papers. In short, I worried over my worldly affairs. I never really could concentrate 100% when we went for the hajj course at the mosque every Sunday - Nina would sit quietly for like ten minutes, then I have to cater to her tantrums for the next one hour or so. It was my husband who went out of his way - calling his contacts in JB and KL to ensure that I could go with him. When we finally surrendered my passport (on the fourth day of Hari Raya) it dawned on me that I was lacking and unsure of the rites of hajj. So i went on a self-study streak. Ustazah Muayanah was my point of reference and dear Cikgu Zul opened up a 'talian haji' - he was most helpful in giving me a crash course on hajj. EVen then, I was holding on to TH's letter that my flight would be the last one, on 10.11.2010. For one whole week, I couldn't enter JB because I had no passport. On Wednesday, 14th November, I was to get my temporary passport. The 'bomb' was dropped at about 11.00 a.m. - my husband called to say that our flight was Thursday, 15th November at 7.30 am. via SEnai Airport. Less than 24 hrs notice! It was madness - but true. Frantically passing to dear Mr Esmadi my papers, quick goodbyes and bewildered looks from my colleagues - Cikgu Zul again was most comforting.Ms Amnah and the rest of the Management team was most reassuring. I am deeply touched and forever indebted to them. Furious smses to my girls and Ammar. Allah help them all in their exams. I went straight to get my temporary passport - still calling up TH to try and delay my flight. No can do. If i missed the flight, I woud have to pay RM$4,000 as compensation. I am ashamed to say that I actually toyed with the idea of paying up...astargfirullah...
Back in JB, I had little time to think - just act. There were the clothes to pack, instructions for Halim who will be the leader in the family now - it was about 3.00 amthat I fell asleep and was up by 5.00 am. My feelings were numbed and I was going through the motion zombie-like. When I finally checked-in, waving at my family, I saw Nina smiling. I was relieved. A miracle she was not crying. I did not turn back. Point of no return.
When I collected my passport and my boarding pass, I found out my husband's passport was missing! TH officers frantically searched and apologetically declared that his passport was in KL! Believe it or not, we missed our flight to Jeddah. The only two would-be pilgrims left behind. Our plane took off and we were at Starbucks, SEnai Airport, awaiting our fate. I remembered my reluctance and I immediately felt deep remorse and begged for Allah to forgive me. HE was testing me, I know, testing my sincerity and the immediacy of HIS Will left me a sense of awe. I prayed fervently for HIS mercy, not anger. By noon, TH officers announced that they were going to send us to KL - on a flight fully paid by them. So we took a flight to KLIA, from there to Kelana Jaya (TH KL's HQ), then back to KLIA for a flight at 1.20 a.m.
I gave thanks to Allah fervently. We landed at Madinah! So, Cikgu Zul, we actually 'missed' the chaotic conditions in Jeddah (the long wait, the dirty toilets as told by my roommates, not to mention the 8 hr bus journey from Jeddah to Madinah) - Allahu Akbar! Allahu Hafiz! We are but HIS servants...
(When I did my first tawaf at the Mataaf, gazing at HIS HOUSE, i cried copiously, fully aware, feeling very, very small - that I was there because HE wanted me to be there - HE knew that if given more time, I would be looking for excuses to delay my flight - so HE PLUCKED me from my comfort zone - to be HIS guest...and I regretted my selfishness...Allah has blessed me 45 years of beautiful life - and I could not even sacrificed 44 days - a day out of every year that HE has given me - to be with HIM, to remember HIM, to be HIS true servant..Ya Allah! Ya Allah! Ya Allah! Labbaikallah humma labbaik! ....)
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