My Own Little Miracle

Before we left we were barraged with pointers and warnings; do this, don’t do this, do that, don’t do that. Don’t you dare do bla, bla, bla. Remember, you must bla, bla, bla. And there were lots of personal experiences: when I was at so and so, I was such and such. When my friend did bla, bla, bla, and so as she was punished with bla, bla, bla. Lots of magical experiences and small miracles. And tears, lots and lots of tears.
There were so many warnings I began to wonder if people don't just made them all up. It began to annoy me. I didn’t really want to hear those kinds of stories so close to the time we were leaving. Those are your experiences, not mine. So you cried here and here and here and here. That’s you. Now if I don’t cry there I will wonder if something is wrong with me.
And that’s what happened. We arrived at King Abdul Aziz airport at night. An old man next to me on the bus expressed his admiration and wonder at the sight of lights in the distance, or maybe something else that I didn’t see. I smelled the smell of desert and felt the cold night air. I was glad and happy and just a bit excited, but not as moved as the old man.
At the sight of Nabawi Mosque, again I felt glad, happy and just a bit excited, but not moved. We prayed there, and I wondered why my heart is still cold to all these. Where is my miracle?
Every time we went to this or that historical places, my heart was still cold. I saw commercialism everywhere. I saw sacred places turning into a big religious Disneyland. There were voices in my head talking and talking and talking, questioning and questioning and questioning. It got to a point where I thought oh, maybe this whole thing was fabricated, no spiritual value whatsoever in it. The first time I saw the Ka’bah, it looked tiny. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out why. Outside the mosque, back to back were tall hotels and shopping arcades, and they are still building. There will be monorails in a few years. So that, plus the luxurious hotels and shopping arcades, plus the cute tents, plus the multistory Jum’rah place, plus the stone thing near the Sai place, plus the air conditioner near the Ka’bah. Modern technology. Very convenient, very comfortable. Disneyland. What’s all these praying all about? I’ll do them, just because I’m here. I think I will return as an atheist. At that point another voice began to speak, a tiny one, saying, you are in Holy Land, the devils are stronger here than any other places in the world. Maybe I heard or read that somewhere before, maybe it was a mysterious reminder. I don’t know. I gasped and I started to pray, asking for God’s forgiveness and protection. A few days later, a taxi driver said the exact same thing. The devils are very strong here, and some people here are more evil than beasts. I didn’t say anything, but in my head I said, very true, bro.
So I stopped looking for miracles. One time inside the mosque in Mekkah, I prayed a few people away from my family. I found a tiny spot near the Qur’an shelf. I felt that I had found my own little place and I felt very happy. The ladies behind me smiled kindly and I felt even happier. This is how it should feel like, I thought. It didn’t last very long, of course, because afterwards we quarreled again as before. But for a brief moment I was as happy as I could be.
We were told that around 9 am was the best time to come near the Ka’bah, because it wasn’t very crowded at that time. So my sister and I decided to be adventurous and went together, just the two of us. It was true, there were many people as usual but it looked like it would be possible to get near. We decided a meeting place in case we got separated and in two seconds we did got separated. I found a quiet side where there were only an elderly couple praying near the wall. I touched the black cloth, I felt the texture of the weave. It was textured and thick and strong and shiny. And it touched me back. I was finally moved. The ice inside me melted and I let myself being swept away by the crowd. They pushed me into Hijir Ismail, I went in without trying, and I had a brief peaceful moment to pray. Then I pushed myself out so that other people could have their moment too. I left the crowd and took a drink of Zamzam water. It tasted wonderful to me. Then I sat under the shade on the steps. All I asked for before I left was to feel something, to have my own special moment, and it was finally granted. It felt great. A few minutes later my sister found me. She was a bit breathless but her face was beaming. She managed to touch Hajar Aswad, and she managed to pray in Hijir Ismail, properly, not just standing like I did. I think she found what she was searching for too. We both went back to the hotel feeling very happy, probably for very different reasons. Again I remembered what my friend said. It was a personal journey. And we didn’t quarrel again after that.