Makkah Gate

Makkah Gate at the Jeddah-Makkah Highway in Saudi Arabia

I had been waiting for this gate from the moment we got into the car heading towards Jeddah, after our Umrah three months ago.  This gate signifies the boundary of the haram area of the city of Makkah, where non-Muslims are prohibited to enter.  But long before this gate arrives, people coming into Makkah from Jeddah have already undergone the necessary checking of passports and other documents.  The structure is that of a huge book, representing the Qur’an, sitting on a rehal, or book stand.

And it looks even more beautiful at night …

The gate at night (Googled image)

Our driver, for this Makkah to Jeddah trip, was a local and didn’t speak English at all.  I was actually surprised since back home in the U.A.E.,  I never saw a local drive a taxi. But then, this car wasn’t a regular, registered taxi;  this was his own private vehicle.  However, buses take a long time, as per our  Madinah to Makkah experience, we had a plane to catch in four hours, and besides, everywhere we looked, people were taking these private taxis.  Therefore Masood, his friend and this local guy negotiated the fare in sign language, and we hopped in.

Before we entered the highway, our driver stopped briefly at a gas station.  He asked if it was okay with us if he made ablution and prayed 2 rakats first.  It wasn’t time for the regular prayer, so we assumed he prayed nafl.  We waited for him in the car.

Our adventure began when he returned, fixed his head gear, smiled, and started the engine.

He didn’t drive the car;  he flew it!  And when one is flying, one doesn’t feel a need for indicator lamps.  So he just changed lanes as he wished, abruptly.

And since driving can get so boring, and such a waste of precious time as well, he decided to multi-task.  He made/attended phone calls, sent text messages, cleaned his ears with cotton buds, searched for the tissue box, and counted his money – all the time maintaining a speed of 120 km/hour.

“We should’ve prayed a few rakats ourselves,” I told Masood.

We reached Jeddah airport an hour earlier than we were supposed to, in one piece.  Alhumdulillah.

Umrah: (Part 7) – Masjid al Haram

A part of the huge Masjid al Haram

“The first House (of worship) appointed for men was that at Bakka: Full of blessing and of guidance for all kinds of beings. In it are clear signs: the station of Ibrahim. Anyone who enters it shall be granted safe passage. The people owe it to God that they shall observe Hajj to this shrine, when they can afford it. As for those who disbelieve, God does not need anyone.” [al Qur’an 3: 96-97]

3:30 am.  I entered Masjid al Haram for the first time, from Bab al Fath.  I consciously took the first step in with my right foot, while reciting the du’a.  I didn’t want to look up and see the Ka’aba from the distance, but few steps later I couldn’t resist the urge as I heard Masood say SubhanAllah, and I looked up.

There it stood – right in the middle of Masjid al Haram, at the center of the Earth, and in front of me – the Ka’aba.  I took a deep breath and felt the calmness and serenity seep into the very recesses of my soul.  My heart started to beat faster, and for a few seconds, I momentarily forgot all those around me, even myself.  I am in Allah’s house!

This is where I had been facing all my life while to offer prayers.

Tears veiled my view of the Ka’aba, as I followed Masood and walked closer towards it.  “Is this for real?” I asked myself.  “Has Allah really deemed me worthy to be standing here in His house?”  I felt so small.   There is a distinct green light opposite to the Black Stone, where the tawaaf is to be started.  We stood at the opposide side, so we walked all the way towards it.  Masood bared his right shoulder, held my hand and we started our tawaaf, with our left shoulders towards the Ka’aba and walking anti-clockwise.

There wasn’t much crowd.  This meant that we were very close to Hajar al Aswad or the Black Stone and had touched the Station of Ibraheem.  This also meant we weren’t pushed around and were able to concentrate on the tawaaf itself.  The weather was very pleasant and the coolness of the marble floor made it even better.  On the first round, I sought forgiveness for all the sins I had committed.  On the second round, I prayed for my family, including those who have already left this dunya.  On the third round, I prayed for all my friends and the people I know.  On the fourth round, I prayed for the Muslim ummah.  On the fifth and sixth rounds, I recited all the surahs and dhik’r I knew by heart.  On the last round, I prayed for myself.

After completing the tawaaf, we walked towards the Zam Zam taps and drank the cool water.  Then we offered 2 raka’at nafl.  By the time we finished the prayer, the adhaan for Fajr echoed throughout the masjid.  We found our way and walked towards Safa.  We had enough time to rent a wheelchair for Mom, her feet swollen and aching.  We didn’t know that there were free wheelchairs available and moreover, we didn’t know that passport is required to borrow one.  Since we didn’t bring our passports, we had to pay for the wheelchair.

Faj’r prayer was one of the best prayers I had ever had the opportunity to pray.  It was my first Fardh prayer in Masjid al Haram, and though I don’t recall who lead the prayers, I was deeply moved by the verses he recited.  The Imam took his time, reading out each verse with immense clarity.  I wanted him to go on and on.  I didn’t want this prayer to end.  There I was, offering my salah with thousands of others, with the Ka’aba right in front of me!

It got crowded just after Fajr prayers.

Immediately after the prayer, we proceeded towards Safa to start Sa’ee.  We had to walk from Safa towards Marwa and vice versa, completing seven laps.  I found this even tougher than the tawaaf.  But I shrugged off that thought, feeling all guilty, when I tried to visualize Haajar and her little baby, the prophet Ismael, alaihis salaam, in this same place thousands of years ago.  I was with my family, she had been alone with her infant.  I was walking on a smooth marble floor, she walked on the rocky ground of the desert hills.  I have been provided with an air-conditioned environment, she had to endure the hostile weather of Makkah.  I was able to stop twice and drink Zam Zam conveniently from the coolers, she must’ve been dizzy with thirst, her parched lips praying for Allah to help her and her infant survive.  How ungrateful I am.  How ungrateful have I always been.

Allah loved this act of hers so much that He ordained it compulsory among all the Muslims performing Umrah and Haj.

‘Behold! Safa and Marwa are among the Symbols of Allah.” Al Qur’an 2:158

Ending up in Marwa, us ladies proceeded to the hotel where we cut about an inch from our hair, while the men went to the barber’s.  We had now completed our Umrah and prayed that Allah accept our deeds and forgive our sins.

Paid lockers outside the masjid - though I didn't see anyone use them.

Masjid al Haram is the only mosque in the world, in my opinion, where men and women mingle all the time, hence the need for women to be with their mahram.  There is no separate women’s section within the mosque – only bookshelves, about 4 feet high, serve as boundaries.  So Masood was always  close by, even during prayers.

Tips:

• The ideal time to perform tawaaf is before the Fajr prayers.

• Place your footwear in a bag and bring it inside the masjid with you, there are a lot of shoe racks within the masjid.  The thing is, there are a lot of gates leading out of the masjid, which means you won’t necessarily go out of the same gate you had used to enter the masjid.  This is very important during sa’ee – where you end up in marwa, momentarily forgetting where you left your slippers/shoes.

• You can purchase an empty container and fill it up with Zam Zam yourself.  We bought ours for SR 15 / per gallon.  The brother selling it was handicapped, so we thought buying from him would help him.  The cab driver later scolded us for being too lazy to fill the water by ourselves.

• Maintain a positive attitude and always say ‘Alhumdulillah‘ for everything, be it good or bad.  Whenever you get impatient with people or situations, make dhikr and seek forgiveness.

• Try to offer all your fardh prayers in Masjid al Haram, for the reward of eac prayer is 100,000 times.

• Make sure you offer the Janazah salah, which always follows the fardh salah.

• There are free wheelchairs available, but you’ll need to deposit your passport with them when you borrow one.

• Spend time in the masjid reading the Qur’an, for the Prophet, sallalahu alayhi wassalam, said:

“A person who recites the Qur’an and reads it fluently will be in the company of obedient and noble angels, and a person who reads the Qur’an haltingly and with difficulty will have double recompense.” Bukhari:4937

• Do NOT pass in front of a person offering salah, although a lot of our brothers and sisters think that it is okay to do so.  Narrated Abu Juhaim that the Prophet, sallalahu alayhi wassalam, said:

“If the person who passes in front of another person in Salah knew the magnitude of his sin, he would prefer to wait for 40 (days, months or years) rather than to pass in front of him.  Abu An Nadr said, ‘I donot remember exactly whether he said 40 days, months or years’.” Bukhari:510

Our last prayer at the Masjid al Haram was that of Fajr, where we remain seated until 10 am reciting the Qur’an.  We somehow ended up on the second floor with a very good view of the Ka’aba.  Those few hours were the most peaceful and calm time of my time.  I didn’t want to leave this place nor wanted this time to pass.

We then went downstairs to make our farewell tawaaf.  Ihram isn’t necessary for this, nor is the need to recite the niyah out loud.  There is no need to do raml, or brisk walking.  During the last tawaaf around the Ka’aba, I started crying.  “Please don’t send me back out there!”  I pleaded to Allah silently.  I felt so shielded, so protected within the walls of His house that the thought of leaving this place frightened me.  It felt like there are a million vultures outside, waiting to tear me into a million pieces.  But most importantly, I feared losing this feeling of extreme closeness to Him and of getting lost in the world outside.

But life is a test, I tried to explain to myself.  And Him sending me back out there is a test.

Reluctantly, with tears in my eyes and a very heavy heart, I walked out of Allah’s House.  “Please invite us again soon,”  I prayed sincerely, “And please keep this memory of love and fear of You fresh in our hearts always.”

Umrah: (Part 6) – Makka al-Mukarrama

The people of Makkah were asleep when our bus entered its borders.  I checked the time: 1 am.  I thought, still drowsy from sleep, of having read a sign that said non-Muslims are forbidden to enter from this point onwards.  I must have dozed off for a couple of hours in the bus, and when I looked out of the window, I saw mountains – right next to me!  I once read that Makkah city is built in a narrow valley, surrounded by mountains, and is 910 feet above sea level.  So they carved the mountains and built this highway, which by this time has considerably narrowed down in size and has bright street lights.  I tried to imagine how this must have all been during the Prophet’s, sallalahu alayhi wassalam, time.  How difficult and life threatening it must have been for him and his companions to cross the hostile desert  weather and rough mountains, and make it to Madinah.

Thirty minutes later, after driving up and down the road (we so got used to the leveled roads here in the U.A.E., so I was actually enjoying this ride), I can finally see the minarets!  By then, everyone in the bus had awaken.  We had stopped reciting the talbiyah and I thought, “Oh Allah, please grant me the opportunity to recite these words again soon.”

My first glimpse of the Masjid al Haram was from inside the bus, across the street.  It seemed like a dream and I rubbed my eyes, “It is the Grand Mosque!  We’re finally here!”  The masjid glowed in the dark, sparkling in all its grandeur.  The bus continued past the masjid, on the two-way street and made a U-turn.  The street is lined with hotels, restaurants and shops.  The place was abuzz like it’s 2 pm and not 2 am!

SAPTCO bus terminal is right in front of the masjid.  We got off and gathered at the steps of the masjid with our luggage.  Masood left to search for the hotel.  Mom sat on her folding chair, while Mushtaq and I waited for Masood’s return.  He had called up the hotel while we were in Madinah and informed them of our arrival.  The payment has already been made in Dubai.

I looked up at Masjid al Haram in awe.  Its white marble walls stood out against the black sky, its minarets kissing the stars.  There wasn’t much crowd either;  I had imagined the place to be packed.  I looked around. Men walked pass in their white Ihraam clothes, some exposing their right shoulders.  Hadn’t they read that the right shoulder is to be exposed only during tawaaf?  There was constant movement of people in and out of the masjid, mostly in groups.

A lot of women, in niqaab, sold scarves, slippers, and prayer rugs along the footpath in front of the masjid.  Their children running around in the massive courtyard of the masjid.  It was disappointing to see the garbage and plastic bags lying around the area.  I thought of Madinah at that moment, of how clean it has been maintained anytime of the day or night.

I checked my watch:  2:30 am.  “Where is Masood?  He should’ve been back by now,” I thought aloud.  Mom told me to call him, but when I dialed his Etisalat number, a woman’s voice answered instead, very obvious that I had awaken her from her deep sleep.  I apologized, disconnected the call and sent a text message asking Masood to call me.  Fifteen minutes later and still no response.

3 am.  We all started to worry.  I felt people were already looking at us.  We had planned to start the tawaaf at 3 am, yet here we stood, in front of the masjid with our luggage.  Ten minutes later, Masood came running towards us and suitcases in hand, we strode towards the taxi behind him.  We drove past the masjid, through a tunnel, arrived behind the masjid, then took a left turn.  A couple of minutes later, we were standing in front of a hotel -  the hotel that we didn’t book.

What happened was that when Masood arrived at the hotel – the one we had booked and paid for in Dubai – he was told up front that our rooms have given to someone else.  This was after he was asked to wait in the lobby for 30 minutes!  Trying his best to control his temper, Masood tried to show the receipt and explained that his mother and wife are out there with the luggage and that we had intended to perform the tawaaf in 30 minutes.  The guy at the reception calmly told him not to worry.  He made a phone call, ordered another employee to hail a cab and asked Masood to follow that guy.  “I’ve arranged for rooms in another hotel for you,” he said, “and it’s walking distance from Haram.”

What he didn’t mention was that on the way back from the haram, we would have to climb a hill to get to the road that leads to our hotel.  We ended up taking a cab on our way to and from the masjid each time.  I don’t have anything good to say about our rooms.  Mom’s cough got worse.

Construction work right in front of Masjid al Haram

Men in Makkah, the ones we have had the pleasure to interact with at least, had short temper.  The locals drive private taxis, charging us SR10-15 for a 2 minute ride.  One of them took off while Mom was still getting in the car, resulting in muscle pain in her left arm and shoulder.  Another one picked us up from the main entrance of haram, drove all the way around and stopped at the back entrance of the masjid.  “Dar al salaam,” Masood told him again.  “Bab al Salaam,” the driver gestured towards the back entrance of the masjid.  “No, not Bab al Salaam.  Dar al Salaam,” said Masood.  Both men communicated in sign language with lots of Dar al salaams and Bab al salaams in between, until the driver finally announced that he didn’t know where dar al salaam was.  Masood explained the way.

A five-star hotel and shopping center right across Masjid al Haram

Shops and food court

A hotel facing Masjid al Haram

Hotels everywhere!

Given the limited time that we had in Makkah and Mom’s poor health, we had decided to postpone seeing other places in the city and focused on spending most of our time in Haram.

Umrah: (Part 5) – Mīqat, The Point Where It All Starts

Miqat is an Arabic word which literally means, ‘a stated place’.  This is the place where Muslims setting out to perform Umrah or Haj stop over to assume the state of Ihram.  Coming in from Madinah, our miqat was at Dhu’l Hulayfa, a town about 9 kilometers from the city.   We took the government-operated bus, SAPTCO, which cost around SR 55 per person. They were very strict in checking our passports, since these buses don’t get stopped at check points.

Prior to checking out of our hotel earlier that day, we started assuming our Ihram.  We showered, changed into our Umrah clothes and offered the two raka’at nafl prayer before setting out.  I wore my new abaya, but there wasn’t anything unusual about my appearance.  Masood, however, came out wearing his two-piece white, unhemmed sheets (more or less like towel material), feeling slightly awkward managing the lower garment.  I looked at him for the longest time – my husband, the man who gave me nothing but happiness and love, stood before me ready to fulfill his obligation to Allah.  I uttered a prayer for him, in my heart, right then and there.

We arrived at Masjid al Miqat in Dhu’l Hulayfa 30 minutes before Maghrib time.  The driver told us we had half an hour to assume Ihram.  Since we were already dressed in our Umrah clothes, we went in to make ablution.  I was somehow grateful that we assumed part of our Ihram from the hotel itself.  Although the masjid has a huge facility for bathing and washing, the crowd made  the place a total mess.  Sisters were all over the bathing and ablution areas, splashing water everywhere.  There was a long queue leading to the restrooms, with older women knocking on the doors incessantly.  It was total chaos.  I finally found a spot to perform wudhu, but I had no place to put my bag – there was water everywhere!

After praying Maghrib and Ish’a together, we all met up in front of the food stall near our bus.  We had tea, and bought juice to take along the journey.  By this time, we had also made the Umrah niyah aloud:

Oh Allah, here I am performing Umrah.

There is actually no special salah (2 raka’at) established in Sunnah to be performed after adopting or relating to Ihram.  It is preferred that the niyah is done after a salah, if possible.  Then we started the talbiyah, words that I had been so eager to say for the past few weeks.  Words that I had been trying to read aloud to myself time and time again before our arrival in K.S.A., so that I may recite them perfectly when the right time comes.

Here I am, oh Allah, here I am.  Here I am, You have no partner, here I am.

Surely all praise, grace and dominion are Yours.  And you have no partner.

These word signify a response to the summons of Allah, for He is the one who invited us, calling us to visit the sacred mosque and worship Him.  These words emphasize sincerity, submission, and seeking to draw nearer and closer to Allah.  These words also acknowledge Allah’s sovereignty.

We were now officially in the state of Ihram.

The bus started its journey towards Makkah at around 7:30 pm.  Masood and I recited the talbiyah as often as we could, him loudly and me silently.  We stopped in between to drink, make dhik’r, or discuss issues pertaining to Umrah and Islam in general.  Needless to say, we avoided idle chatting.

By 9 pm, we had a stopover in the middle of nowhere.  There seemed to be only three structures in that place:  a garage, restaurant and restroom.  I could hear crickets.  There was darkness beyond the restaurant.

We ordered chicken mandi, the only thing available at the moment.  I had another cup of tea afterwards.  I noticed I’ve been drinking too much tea during this trip.  Maybe the caffeine temporarily provided relief from exhaustion.

Back on the highway, without the bright street lights we got so accustomed to here in the U.A.E., and driving across the desert – which seemed pretty scary in the dark – we continued reciting the talbiyah.  I focused on its meaning as each word escaped by lips silently, and tears began to flow.  “Here I am, Oh Allah, here I am,” I say earnestly.

A couple of hours later, my eyes heavy with sleep, I dozed off.

Umrah: (Part 4) – Masjid al-Nabawi

Sweat trickled as we walked hurriedly towards Masjid al Nabawi, or the Prophet’s Mosque, for the Jummah prayers.  It was noon and the sun shone brightly upon the City of the Prophet, sallalahu ‘alaihi wassalam.  Some sisters have advised me to go to the masjid at least a couple of hours before the prayers, in order to get a good place inside.  But then I read this hadith and didn’t feel the need to go rush:

‘The best rows of the males in prayer (in congregation) are the first ones and the worst are the last ones,  and the best rows among females in prayer are the last ones and the worst are the first ones.’ Muslim 4:880

It was love at first sight; the Masjid al Nabawi is beautiful.  The hot sun, the warm breeze of Madinah, and the massive crowd all melted away as I looked up at the masjid and its minarets.  The massive marbled courtyard seemed like open arms welcoming me to an embrace.  “Come,” said an inaudible voice from somewhere within myself.  And I walked towards its gates, drawn by my faith and love  for Allah and His last messenger, sallalahu ‘alaihi wassalam.

The ladies section was packed.  I held Mom’s hand firmly, making sure we don’t lose each other in the rush.  Women started to lay their prayer rugs in the courtyard, which is partly shaded by the huge electric umbrellas.  When we reached the entrance of the masjid’s ladies’ section, which I think there are about six, the lady guards told us that it’s full inside.  I still looked in, hoping to find even a small space for us.  Well, there wasn’t.  Even the walkways were packed.

When I turned around, a couple of minutes later, women had already settled on the platform right in front of the doors!  I quickly secured a place behind a pillar, just besides the door, and opened up Mom’s folding chair so she can sit and rest her feet.  I took out the plastic bag I had brought, placed our slippers in it, and tucked it under Mom’s chair.  I stood right next to her and offered the two raka’at nafl prayers.  By the time I was done with the prayer, I looked back and found women occupy all the three steps and the entire courtyard behind us!  A lot of them had to sit under the sun.

The ladies’ section was still in frenzy when the Friday sermon started.  Sisters coming in late insisted on entering the masjid, pushing past the lady guards, who eventually raised their hands in despair.  Women desperate to offer their prayers inside the mosque walked over us, some with their shoes still on, their bags hitting our faces as they made their way inside.  As the time for the prayer drew closer, the crowd increased in number.  I remained seated, made zik’r, and read the Qur’an.  The chaos all around me seemed like a blur as I concentrated on supplicating.  I felt a cool breeze blowing from somewhere, perhaps from the air condition from within the masjid, and it felt very good.

I’ve never prayed in such a small space before.  There was hardly enough space to make sujood, let alone sit comfortably.  I was literally curled up like a ball whenever I prostrated.  But that didn’t matter at the time.  Each time my forehead touched the cool marble of the masjid’s floor, I submitted myself completely to Him, seeking forgiveness and asking for patience.  Tears flowed as I concentrated on the beautiful verses of the Qur’an as the Iman lead the prayer.

We remained seated after the prayers and waited until most of the women left the masjid.  Twenty minutes later, there was enough room inside so we walked in.  The guard checked my bag, making sure there’s no camera or cell phone with a camera in there, and let us in.  I had both, but she somehow didn’t notice and I was able to get in.  “It’s okay,” I told Mom, “I’m not going to take pictures, anyway.”  Honestly, I was tempted to sneak a few pictures;  but I didn’t dare try.

Inside, all the walk ways were lined with water coolers filled with Zam Zam.  I marveled at the architecture and interiors.  Unlike other mosques where they usually make a separate room for women (with me usually feeling not a part of the congregation), this masjid erected wooden screen dividers within the same grand hall – making me feel that I am indeed a part of the congregation.

We offered all our prayers in Masjid al Nabawi, for the reward of each salaat is a thousand fold in this blessed masjid, InshaAllah. Masood and I had fixed a meeting place in the outer courtyard, near the escalator that leads below the parking lot.  That’s where men commonly come and wait for the women.

The alley right in front of the masjid’s gate filled up with men and women selling stuff (tasbih beads, prayer rugs, scarves, slippers, and caps).  They either bring their push carts or spread a blanket/mat on the street.  Within a few minutes, as we struggled to make our way out, I found the vendors hasten to pick their stuff up and ran towards the other direction.  The policemen had arrived.

After the Isha’a prayers, which were able to offer inside the masjid, Mom and I lined up behind the screen doors that separate the ladies’ section from the men.  Ziyarat, which included viewing of the Prophet’s, sallalahu ‘alaihi wassalam, grave and pulpit, would start in thirty minutes.  I peeked through the screen and saw men set up cardboard dividers in the men’s section.  When the screen doors of the ladies’ section would be opened, we will have to pass through the men’s section to get to the place for ziyaarat, hence the need to set up dividers.

Thirty minutes turned to forty minutes with no news of opening the screen doors.  The sisters started to feel agitated.  I continued making zik’r.  I realized that the more I paid attention to the sisters, the more irritated of their behavior I became.  Some were pushing wheelchairs behind us, almost driving the wheel over Mom’s feet.  I opened up her chair and had her sit besides a pillar, where she could be safe from the pushing and the wheelchairs.   My feet began to ache from prolonged standing.  To keep my mind off it, I looked around and observed the beauty of the masjid, and when I looked up, I saw that the dome has disappeared!  I was looking straight at the dark sky and twinkling stars.  So the roof was retractable.  Cool!

Finally, an hour later, the first door to the left had been opened.  I was trapped in a sea of women and learned about the door being opened by the number of sisters suddenly flocking towards that direction.  I grabbed Mom’s hand and slowly inched towards the open screen door.

It was the men’s section past the door.  After the Isha’a congregation, men were allowed to make the ziyaarat first and were instructed to clear the area after an hour to give way to the women.  Within the men’s section, temporary partition had been erected leading up to where the ziyaarat actually starts.  There, women guards guided the sisters on which direction to proceed.  On my left, my eyes caught the green cloth with Qur’an verses in golden thread:  it’s the grave of the prophet Mohammed, sallalahu ‘alaihi wassalam. An almost 6 feet tall temporary wall stood between us and the room where the grave of the prophet Mohammed, sallalahu ‘alaihi wassalam, is located.  Tears welled up, as I thought of all the pain and rejection he must have had to endure in spreading the word of Islam.  I silently wished him Allah’s blessings, ashamed of standing there, feeling so small and guilty of all the mistakes I had committed.  More tears flowed as I recalled all the Sunnah I’ve known but somehow didn’t follow.  I stood there, making a promise to myself to read as much ahadith as I can, and to live my life as close to his teachings as possible, InshaAllah. On his right was Abu Bakr, may Allah be pleased with him.  And to his left was Omar, may Allah be pleased with him.  I wished them both Allah’s blessings.  What an honor it is for them both to be buried next to the Prophet, sallalahu ‘alaihi wassalam.

Sadly, I saw sisters committing grave mistakes whilst making the ziyaarat.  A huge number of women started offering salaat facing the prophet’s grave.  Some lifted their hands in prayer, invoking the Prophet, sallalahu ‘alaihi wassalam. Some threw themselves on the wall and started wailing.  I’m surprised why the guards are allowing this sort of behavior.  Then I thought about the number of crowd coming in all the time.  It’s almost impossible to control them.

When Mom and I made our way into the crowd towards the rawdah, the crowd got out of control in an attempt to rush in first.  We were pushed badly.  I wasn’t worried about myself at all; my main concern had been Mom.  Also, I had promised myself prior to leaving the U.A.E. that I would never push anyone, no matter what.  I would never hurt a fellow Muslim in order to fulfill a religious obligation.  So I told Mom, “Let’s do this next time, InshaAllah.  We’re just going to end up hurting others or getting hurt ourselves.”  Then we turned around and made our way outside the masjid.  Masood was able to make the ziyaarat though, as the brothers were less aggressive.

Tips:

1. Bring your own folding chair if you need to sit when offering salaat.  You can easily buy one near the masjid, at 30 Riyals.  It’s quite light weight and easy to carry around.  Do not, however, leave it unattended.  Someone will definitely get it.
2. Bring a prayer rug or something to spread on the floor when you come in to the masjid just in time for the prayers.
3. You may want to bring your own Qur’an to read while waiting for Jummah prayer to start, since the sisters may have already taken the ones available in the masjid or you may not find a way to reach the shelves amidst the crowd.
4. Don’t bring cameras or cell phones with cameras; you won’t be allowed to enter the masjid.  Ladies’ bags are thoroughly checked.  The security in the men’s section, however, isn’t strict.  Photography is allowed from the outer courtyard of the masjid.
5. Sisters, be extremely patient.  You’ll get pushed a lot.  Once you leave your space inside the masjid, forget about it.   Women will even occupy the sujood space in front of you.  The men, I am told, are less wild.
6. Do not walk in front of someone who’s offering a sala’at, but expect others to do this to you.
7. You can bring empty bottles or containers to fill Zam Zam water.  Try to drink only this water while you’re in Madinah and Makkah.  You can always have your regular bottled water anywhere in the world.
8. If you plan to stay in the masjid for a long period of time to read Qur’an or make zik’r, bring something to eat, like nuts, dates or granola bars.
9. Try to offer all your salaat in the Masjid al Nabawi.
10. Salaat for janazah is offered after every Fardh prayer.  I encourage the brothers and sisters to learn about this prayer and try to offer it.

Just outside the masjid.

After coming out of the masjid that night, Mom and I headed towards the shoe shelves to collect our slippers.  I had placed both pairs in disposable bags and neatly put them away in one of the shelves.  We found, however, that both our slippers went missing!  We searched everywhere, checking every shoe rack carefully.  With only our socks on, Mom and I walked past the huge court yard of the masjid and across that street outside (shown in the picture above).  We bought new pairs of slippers from the nearest shop.

TIP: Bring a string bag to put your slippers in so that you can bring them inside the mosque.  If you must leave your slippers/shoes outside the mosque in one of the shoe racks, try putting each slipper/shoe in a different place.  If you end up losing your footwear, panic not; there are several shops nearby that sell slippers.