A Personal Experience

When my mother invited me to do the Umroh with her last year, I immediately said yes. But actually in my heart, I said, I would go if I had enough money to pay the rent while I’m away. There weren’t enough male participant that year, so our plans were cancelled. Come this year and to my surprise, yes, I did have enough money. But I was still unsure. I didn’t think I was ready to go. I didn’t think I was supposed to go, or deserved to go. For goodness sake, there were many people around who are more devout than I am. In fact they would be very easy to find. That weighted heavily on my mind. I searched and searched for an explanation, or a justification, or just an excuse. In the end I said to myself, I’ll go so that somebody can take care of my mother.

There were other dramas before we left, like my mother’s refusal to have the meningitis vaccination. And she was so frail and so stubborn at the same time it was so frustrating. We tried to make up stories at the clinic but I broke down and cried and just told the truth. Actually I cried because I accidentally saw her breast the day before, and there was an open wound there. I cried because she was so much weaker than the last time I saw her. She didn’t even recognise me at the airport. The doctors were very patient but firm. In the end mom agreed to have the vaccination. She hugged one of our relatives like a tree and closed her eyes very tightly and I stood next to her to hold her sleeve up. The doctor took the tiny needle out and injected the vaccine. It took about two seconds. And all my mother said was, “Udah? Ngga sakit ya... Saya kira sakit. Untung engga. Kalo iya saya udah menjerit-jerit tadi.” (That’s it? Oh, it doesn’t hurt. I thought it would. Lucky it didn’t otherwise I would have screamed on top of my voice.”)
Then another drama about my date of birth, but fortunately it didn’t cause any problem.

So that was it. In a few more days, we would go, and I still walked around with this doubt on my mind. Then I had a small reunion with some friends from my old work place. We exchanged stories and just before I left them I told K about my doubts. And she told me, “Religion is a very personal experience. Each person has his own appreciation of the journey.” Something like that. It wasn’t until we were near the end of our Umroh that I realised how right she was. I looked at my self, my sister, my mom, and the other fellow pilgrims. It’s like a banquet where on person said I love the salmon, another person said the desert is superb, another said the cutlery is beautiful, another person said it’s a disappointment, and so on and so forth. I’m glad to say that although the three of us went through different experiences, I think we achieved what we were looking for. What was I looking for? Coming up in the next blog.