Here I felt so sheltered
Here I felt so safe
Here I felt so calm
So protected
So at peace with myself
Was it the ceiling
Was it the pillars
Was it the chandaliers
No I know it was not
That I knew for sure
I still feel it so strong
The air
The silence
the ambience
It is still everywhere.
27.3.2006
5 comments:
Thank You for your description of your Haj.
It is certainly awakening. I also have something to share:
http://www.spiritlessons.com/
Happy reading
Thank you for the link.
Take care.
Assalamualaikum,
Came to this blog thru malaysia-today.net
Your blog made me longing to be the guest of Allah, even more. Even without any confirmation of going, I dont feel like coming back here.
I must go soon and I pray that Allah grant me the time, health and enough $$ to go there soon.
Please share more of your Haj experience. Thank you.
Once a while when I receive a note like yours it reassures me that I had done the right thing to put up this site.
Thanks again, May your turn be next. I am real glad that my plan to do it before I reach fifty was fulfilled. Alhamdullilah, a few days ago I was fifty years.
An Invitation to Paradise
I performed the istikhaarah salaah on the evening of Thursday, 7th September 1995 and pleaded for guidance from Allah, The One Who Is Above weaknesses. By the Grace of Allah, The One Who Is Most Kind to His slaves, I had the most marvellous dream. In my sleep that evening, I saw myself standing in the venerated presence of, and about two metres away from our Beloved Prophet Muhammad in the Rauda al-Jannah. The Holy Messenger of Allah was immaculately dressed in pristine white apparel and white turban. I felt entirely insignificant. I was in the company of the fountainhead of virtue. I, also, was dressed in white robes and a white turban, and stood with my back towards the qiblah. Tears of happiness streamed down my cheeks. The Holy Prophet , who was sent by Allah, The Creator and Cherisher of all things, as a Warner and a Mercy to the worlds, stood and looked at me. My spirit rested. I said in Afrikaans: “Yaa Rasulullaah, ek het vir U kom wys my familie – Suleiman, Dawood, Rifdah, en Makkia.” In English, this reads: “O Messenger of Allah, I have come to show to your [esteemed] self my family – Suleiman, Dawood, Rifdah and Makkia.”
I woke with a song in my heart. Allah had honoured me with the society of the best of mankind. The dream was etched in my memory with an astonishing clarity. I shall never forget it. It was, to me, a precognition of the predestination of Allah, The One Whose Will Reigns Supreme, and an invitation from al-Madinah al-Munawwarah.
By my words “Yaa Rasulullaah” (“O Messenger of Allah”), I knew that I had definitely dreamt of the Modest Messenger of Allah . I had addressed our Good Prophet with the utmost respect. That I spoke in “kombuis” Afrikaans was enlightening. I had much to think about.
The reason for my not mentioning my wife’s name (as part of my family) in the list of introductions to our Prophet Muhammad became apparent to me – she had introduced herself on our first pilgrimage in 1991! The same could be said for myself – I also had not introduced myself in the dream, as I, likewise, had first travelled to Madinah then.
The dream held another eye-opener – I had referred to Suleiman, Dawood, Rifdah and Makkia as ‘my family’ and not as ‘my children’ (as we do in the west). In this lay a poignant lesson – although Makkia forms part of our family, she is adopted (and not ours biologically) and therefore not of ‘our children’! For inclusiveness and especially in du’aa, I later familiarised myself with referring to them as ‘my family’, rather than ‘my children’. I would also refer to them as ‘the children’ in du’aa.
I realised also that my not speaking of them as ‘children’ could mean that all, or some of them, would be adults by the time that we got to the City of Light.
Always thereafter, I wondered why our Cherished Prophet did not speak to me in the dream.
I related my experience to anyone who would listen.
Islam teaches that a person who dreams of the Holy Prophet Muhammad has dreamt the truth and has in fact seen the Holy Prophet , and not (mistakenly) anyone else in his or her dream. Based on this reassurance, I believed with certainty that, as long as we held firmly onto the Shari’ah, my family and I would receive divine assistance to get to the Hijaz.
A considerable number of the ’Ibaad-u-Ragmaan Qadiri Jamaa’ah had regularly, over the years, travelled to Saudi Arabia on Haj and ’Umrah. More than fifteen Jamaa’ah people had gone on Haj in 1997. In 1998, thirty-six persons had performed the holy journey. Twenty-one Jamaa’ah pilgrims had answered the call in 1999. The year 2000 had twenty-five Jamaa’ah hujjaaj. Just eight people had gone during 2001. This time, more than a hundred went.
It was a good year, 1422AH. The Haj of that year brought new meaning to the lives of many and helped to heighten the spirit of camaraderie among the members of the ’Ibaad-u-Ragmaan Qadiri Jamaa’ah. Travelling to and staying in the Holy Land has always meant a lot to me. This journey was especially fulfilling. Every day was better than the one before, every moment sweeter than the previous one. Better travelling companions I could not have hoped for.
At 6pm on 24th December 2001, we left Cape Town for Johannesburg. Two days later, we left Johannesburg on Flight KQ 0461 for Nairobi and Jeddah. On 27th December 2001, we arrived by bus in Makkah al-Mukarramah from Jeddah. We completed the rites of ’Umrah.
That Suleiman, Dawood and Rifdah were of age had added value to things. Makkia was just big enough for us not to have to carry her during the tawaaf of the Bait-ullaah and the saa’i. She had turned eight in Makkah.
Taxis coasted through the busy streets. Tow-away trucks hurriedly hauled away badly parked vehicles. Trucks busily pumped desalinated water into storage tanks. Lorries delivered water from the central water distribution centre on the outskirts of Mecca to homes, schools, hospitals and hotels in the area. There were more water delivery trucks than bread distribution vans on the roads.
With the approach of every obligatory prayer, traffic police hastily converted smaller roads into one-ways that led towards the Masjid al-Haram. On the completion of the prayers, many thoroughfares functioned as one-ways leading away from the Grand Mosque. Outside of the busy times, these streets served as dual carriageways.
A cup of tea cost one Saudi riyal on the street. Mutabbag, fried pastry crammed with sweet or savoury filling, were topped with lemon and pepper. This was sold by street vendors in Mecca as ‘fast food’. Kibda sandwiches overflowing with fried liver slices mixed with onion, tomato, and green peppers were irresistible. Traditionally made shawarma was especially tasty. Fruit and vegetables stands made a mint. Stalls selling fruit juice sprinkled with shaved ice had a roaring trade.
Cafés and restaurants flourished. Coffee in herbal, fruity or cardamom blends was served in small cups as appetizers. Tables overflowed with regional delights. Rice was the staple cooked meal ingredient. Slow-cooked, broad, brown beans called ful was particularly mouth-watering and eaten at breakfast. Spicy kebab tested one's taste buds. Sweet mint tea was served in small glasses. Pakistani eateries sold burgers, pies, samosas, breyani, roast chicken, and roti and curry. On offer also, were warm and cold beverages.
Recorded recitals from the Holy Qur’an by Dr. ’Abd Al-Rahman ibn ’Abd Al-’Aziz al-Sudais al-Najdi and Shaykh Saud ibn Ibrahim al-Shuraim al-Najdi sounded from audio shops. An expert in Islamic jurisprudence, Shaykh ’Abd Al-Rahman al-Sudais had been the leading Imam in the Masjid al-Haram since 1983. Shaykh Saud al-Shuraim, also, was Hafith al-Qur’an and an Imam in the Great Mosque. He served as a judge in the High Court of Mecca and was a member of the teaching staff at Umm al-Qura University in the Holy City.
If monetary outlay was the standard by which such things were measured, the Sacred Mosque in Makkah must have ranked as the principal wonder of the world. Billions of Saudi riyal had been spent on its expansion and upkeep. Escalators carried eager worshippers between floors. The air-conditioning and audio systems there were from the top drawer.
Brown tiles had replaced the hand-hewed granite stones of the Holy Ka'aba. Embroidered Quranic texts glistened above head-height on the kiswah.
Falcons had ousted the finches from the Ancient Mosque. Gliding majestically from the 89-metre-high minarets, these magnificent hunting birds soared elegantly on the warm air currents high above the Masjid al-Haram. They were showing off, I thought.
At around 16:00 on 2nd January 2002, we went by bus from Makkah to Madinah and reached there the next morning. We would spend twenty-one wonderful days there. Al-Masjid al-Rasul, complete with underground parking and first floor, had been enlarged to include two inner courtyards. There, twelve big state-of-the-art, umbrella-shaped Teflon sunshades sheltered visitors against the sun. Enlarged to hold more than a million worshippers, the Holy Mosque boasted large patterned doors, precast terrazzo cornices, eye-catching brass chandeliers and golden grilles. Plush woollen carpets enhanced the stylish décor.
Always, when we performed the congregational Salaah on arrival in the City of Light, Sheikh ’Ali ibn ’Abd Al-Rahman al-Hudhaifi had led the prayer in al-Masjid al-Nabwi. On every occasion, strangely, he had loudly recited from a part of the chapter of the Glorious Qur’an called Al-Furqan (“The Criterion”) wherein God describes the ’Ibaad-u-Ragmaan. This time was no different. The Word of God tore at my heart.
Underneath the green dome in the Masjid al-Nabwi was the Apartment of 'Aishah. The treasures of the heavens and the earth and all its elements could not rival the worth of this Sacred Chamber. Curtained behind ceiling-high partitioning, it held the holy graves of our Selfless Prophet Muhammad , Sayyidina Abu Bakr al-Siddiq and Sayyidina ’Umar al-Faruq (May Allah, The One Who Lives and dies not, Bless them with His Guardianship).
After performing the necessary Salawaat, I carefully walked into the Rauda al-Jannah. Calm came over me. Heavenly fragrances caught my attention. My mood moved from a state of grace to the very mountain-top of spirituality. Clad in white robes and a white turban, and standing with my back towards the qiblah, I stopped about five feet from the brass lattice that separates one from the holy graves. I was unable to stop the tears from running into my beard. Choking back my emotions, I managed to greet the Messenger of Allah . I softly added: “Yaa Rasulullaah, ek het vir U kom wys my familie – Suleiman, Dawood, Rifdah, en Makkia.” (“O Messenger of Allah, I have come to show to your [esteemed] self my family – Suleiman, Dawood, Rifdah and Makkia.”)
I conveyed greetings to our Warm-hearted Prophet Muhammad from the people who had asked me to do so. I also greeted the Holy Prophet’s illustrious companions, Sayyidina Abu Bakr al-Siddiq and Sayyidina ’Umar al-Faruq (May Allah, The One Who Is Best Informed of all things, Comfort them with His Unending Satisfaction).
Alhamdu-lillaah. My dream of our Free-handed Prophet Muhammad had come true after more than six years. Allah, The One Who Feeds us against hunger and Makes us secure against fear, Had Guided us through the flawless personality of our Prophet . I was glad that I could show to our Wise Prophet that there had been some moral advancement in our lives since we had last been to al-Madinah al-Munawwarah. Our Blameless Prophet Muhammad is the guiding light of those who do good deeds. There is no man greater than him. He is the spirit of truth and the master of those who warn against evil. The most honoured person in the Sight of Allah , our Generous Prophet remains the model that guides others to the straight path. Our Chivalrous Prophet Muhammad is the Sayed of the people of paradise.
I, in keeping my word, had faithfully embraced my destiny.
May Allah Bestow Peace and Salutations on our master Muhammad, on all the prophets and messengers, on the angels, on the righteous, on the martyrs and upon His pious slaves.
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