This year’s Hajj is a milestone: the first full pilgrimage after a daunting three-year era in which the COVID-19 pandemic has greatly reduced the scale of one of Islam’s holiest and most beloved rites.
Millions of Muslims from around the world will begin gathering next week in Mecca, Saudi Arabia, to begin several days of rituals at holy sites in and around the city. For pilgrims, this is the last non-secular moment of their lives, a possibility to ask God for forgiveness for their sins and follow in the footsteps of respected prophets like Muhammad and Abraham.
It is a massive communal experience, with Muslims of many races and categories practicing it together. But it’s also deeply personal; Each pilgrim brings their own aspirations and experiences.
The Associated Press spoke to several pilgrims from far-flung locations as they prepared for their journey.
It has been difficult to raise 10 children alone and live in the Gaza Strip, stranded on all sides and torn apart by wars. But Huda Zaqqout says her life becomes miraculous because she is surrounded by her family, adding 30 grandchildren.
And now, at 64, he will nevertheless do the Hajj. It turns out that now, after a break from Saudi politics, more female pilgrims can participate without a “mahram” or a male relative accompanying them. It is a fortuitous moment for Zaqqut, who has been waiting for this opportunity for years and whose children cannot undertake the long and arduous adventure from Gaza to Mecca.
“Gaza is like a prison. We are blocked from all instructions and borders,” he said.
Instead, it will do so with an organization of women, all over 60 years old.
It will be a dream come true for Zaqqout, who says his dreams are premonitions.
There is the dream that his triplets predicted. Or someone else who promised that anything smart would join anything bad. The damage turned out to be that after serving 10 years in prison, her husband took a second, younger wife and eventually left Zaqquout. But the smart thing, she says, is that she came out stronger, blessed by the love of her large family.
In April, she dreamed that the Prophet Muhammad was next to her.
“After seeing the prophet, I felt I wanted to be there, close to him,” he said. He signed up for an Umrah, the so-called “little pilgrimage” to Mecca that can be done at any time.
He had signed up for the Hajj in 2010 but never decided to go. After returning from Umrah, he nervously listened to the radio broadcast delivered by this year’s Hajj pilgrims. He fell to the ground crying with joy when his call was heard.
For Gazans, adventure is difficult. The small Mediterranean coastal territory has been blockaded through Israel and Egypt since 2007, when the militant organization Hamas seized power. Although pilgrims can travel, it is a bureaucratic nightmare. Then the arduous bus ride to Cairo airport takes at least 15 hours and twice as long due to long waits at the Egyptian border and checkpoints in Sinai.
This did not stifle Zaqquout’s joy. Her neighbors congratulate her. He watches YouTube videos to learn about Hajj rituals and goes to physiotherapy for his feet, which hurt, knowing that he will stand and walk a lot.
At his home in an old Gaza City community, his grandchildren crowd around him. At one point, while telling his story, Zaqqout began to cry; The young men hugged her and cried with her. When she went to buy gifts, prayer rugs, and clothes, a grandson insisted on accompanying her, holding her hand all the time.
Zaqqut believes that the Hajj is the last thing on his life’s to-do list. He has no debt, his children are married and have families. “After that, I don’t want anything in life. “
On Mount Arafat, the Hajj, he said he would pray for peace and love between peoples. And he will pray for his family.
“I would like to see my young people a fulfilled life and be proud of their young people. “
At a rural intersection on the outskirts of Jakarta, Husin bin Nisan, 85, stands guard, his hands temporarily pointing at cars to avoid or continue. It’s a blind curve and oncoming traffic can’t see what’s coming. From time to time, a driving force thanks him with coins that he slips into his orange vest.
Husin is a “Pak Ogah”, a kind of volunteer traffic guard discovered in Indonesia. Almost every day for more than 30 years, he has been directing traffic in a substandard town called Peusar, living off tips equivalent to a few dollars a day. .
Meanwhile, he has set aside coins for his dream. He has been waiting for more than 15 years, but despite everything, Husin is going to the Hajj.
Husin tearfully recounted the prayer he had repeated: “I beg You, God. . . Open me to Mecca and Medina. Please give me your blessing.
Indonesia, the world’s most populous Muslim country, has an incredibly long list of citizens eager to perform the Hajj; Wait times can last for decades. They gave themselves even more time when Saudi Arabia banned foreign pilgrims in 2020 and 2021 due to the COVID-19 pandemic. In 2022, when the Hajj reopened with age restrictions, less than a portion of Indonesia’s quota could attend, said Arsyad Hidayat, director of Hajj progression at the Ministry of Religious Affairs.
“The waiting time for pilgrims has doubled,” he said. “And when it goes back to general at 100% of our quota, the effect of not having the pilgrimage for two years is still there. “
To catch up, Indonesia traded with Saudi Arabia and gained another 8,000 positions this year, reaching an all-time high of 229,000. The government gives special preference to the elderly. Almost 67,000 of this year’s pilgrims are over 65 years old, which adds up to more than 8,200 over 85 years old. The oldest is a 118-year-old woman. Seniors will benefit from additional services, adding first-class flights, special accommodation and physical care.
Husin spent much of his life waiting for this opportunity. After two decades of running as Pak Ogah, in 2009 he managed to save the 25 million rupees ($1680) needed to sign up for the pilgrimage. It took 4 years before the government published the date. He would be gone – 2022, almost a decade in the future.
When 2022 came, he couldn’t pass because he exceeded the age limit. It was a coup, but he maintained the religion that the pandemic would end and that he would come to Mecca.
Husin, a father of 4 and grandfather of six, still works every day. His wife helps him put on his vest in their small house. Thin, with thick hair and a white beard, he walks towards their intersection. to direct traffic for 12 hours a day, taking breaks sitting under a tree near a nearby cemetery.
Earlier this year, he paid the remaining 26 million rupees ($1750) and showed up for this year’s Hajj.
In early June, Husin packed his suitcase and added his “ihram,” the white robe worn by all male pilgrims. Then he put on his most productive clothes and said goodbye to his circle of family and friends. He began his journey.
“Now I can die in peace any time God answers my prayer,” he said.
Abbas Bazzi has no compatibility with the symbol that many others have of a practicing Muslim. With his long hair pulled back into a bun, he co-owns a coffee shop and an organic grocery store in Beirut’s trendy Badaro district. It sells sugar-free products. shakes and vegan shawarma sandwiches. She teaches mindful breathing, practices healing Reiki and does yoga.
He is now on what he hopes will be his fourth Hajj trip.
Bazzi was born into a Shiite Muslim network in southern Lebanon; His parents were laymen who never went to the mosque. He became interested in Islam on his own, began praying at age nine and fasting at 11. Later, he studied all the major religions of the world: “an adventure from west to east. “” he said. But he remained the most convinced through Islam.
Bazzi attributes his early interest in the faith to the cases surrounding his birth. He was born prematurely at home in 1981, at the height of Lebanon’s civil war. The newborn was not breathing properly, so a friend of his mother’s, a practicing woman, gave him synthetic respiration until he can simply take her to the hospital.
In the first month of his life, Bazzi said, he was so ill that his parents didn’t call him for fear he would die. Although not a practicing Muslim, his father vowed that if his son lived, he would call him after Imam Abbas, one of the most respected figures in Shia Islam. The child lived; His father kept his promise.
Growing up, Bazzi explored non-secular practices, adding meditation and yoga. While others found the set of these practices with Islam strange, he saw them as complementary.
Some other people might think that a Hajj pilgrim looks at others or prays more visibly, he said, but “I have made the decision in my life that my whole life will be in the service of God’s plan. “
In 2017, at the age of 36, Bazzi implemented the Hajj. But until the last minute, he hadn’t gotten his visa. He went to the airport with his organization of pilgrims and accompanied them to say goodbye. The next morning, he won a call saying his visa was ready. He hurried to book a ticket with a new price and followed his friends to Mecca.
“I’ve gotten used to surprises in my life,” he said with a laugh.
In Mecca, he said, “I have noticed peace. I saw that it is the only position where there are other people from all countries of the world, of all colors. . . of other doctrines. I saw unity, I saw love. “
He returned the following year, and the following years, feeling he had more to learn. “It is not imaginable to attain the wisdom of everything (Islam) on a vacation or in a day. “
This year may be just for nail biting. Your visa is approved, but your passport has expired. Its renewal has been delayed as many Lebanese have been looking to download passports to leave the country since its economy collapsed in 2019.
Time is up.
“I pray,” he said Bazzi. Si God willing, if it’s going to happen, it will. “
A wave of sentiment gripped Saadiha Khaliq as she pondered the non-secular significance of her upcoming pilgrimage to Mecca, more than 7,000 miles (11,000 kilometers) from her home in the U. S. state of Tennessee.
“It’s that invitation and that honor,” said the 41-year-old Pakistani-American engineer who lives near Nashville. “You just hope to be worthy of this honor and to be accepted. “
Her tears flowed.
Carrying out the pilgrimage has been in Khaliq’s brain for several years; she watched videos about Hajj rituals and asked others who had had their experiences.
His devoted search has turned into a pressing coronavirus pandemic.
“The pandemic has put things in perspective,” he said. Life is short and you have few opportunities to do the things you have to do. “
This year, she implemented Hajj venues for herself and her parents. Although they have already been to Mecca, this will be the first Hajj for all three.
“It’s kind of a big dream and an achievement for them,” he said. “And I’m grateful to be a component of the total experience. “
In the 1990s, his circle of relatives moved to the United States and eventually to Tennessee, where his father is a mathematics teacher.
As part of his preparations, he tries to make a blank slate, from paying off monetary obligations to working to amend and apologize to family members or friends with whom he may have had problems.
“It is very difficult to stay there (in Mecca), if the negativity in your heart. . . if you make room for things that are resentment or anger,” he said. “And I’m still cleaning that part of my heart. “. “
As the date approached, he experienced a wealth of emotions, to which was added the feeling of stepping into the unknown.
She marvels at the sense of unity and humility that arises when Muslims of diverse backgrounds around the world pray alongside others. Everyone, he said, is on an adventure toward God, seeking forgiveness.
“Now you stand before him with none of your social status, your wealth, and you stand before him with deeds and bad deeds,” he said. “All you can do, as a Muslim, is hope that in the end you like it. “God. “
Two years ago, the pandemic ended Talal Mundhir’s Hajj plans. So the 52-year-old Iraqi did not accept when he and his wife were presented for this year’s pilgrimage.
He stopped playing soccer, one of his favorite pastimes, for fear of hurting himself and not being there anymore.
Mundhir, a resident of the central Iraqi city of Tikrit, has attempted to perform the Hajj several times over the past two decades but has never been successful in the draw. -19.
The call has also been difficult this year, as Mundhir is unemployed amid Iraq’s economic crisis. But he and his brothers recently sold their father’s inherited assets. His percentage of the profits covered the expenses of the Hajj.
Last week, Mundhir and his wife set off with their organization to arrive early before the official start of the pilgrimage on June 26. It was a grueling 36 hours on a bus across the desert.
But he said all the road exhaustion disappeared once he and his wife visited the Haram, the mosque in Mecca that houses the Kaaba, Islam’s holiest site. Millions of pilgrims will walk seven times around the Kaaba in the shape of a cube to perform their Hajj.
“I can’t describe the feeling,” Mundhir wrote in a text message from Mecca. “I felt so much intellectual tranquility, but at the same time, tears. I don’t know if they were tears of joy or humility.
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