“Have you ever been the recipient of a random act of kindness,” my son Saqib asked.
A recipient? Yes. Many times over. But here is one that comes to mind as totally random.
It was August 8, 1986. Khalid and I got stuck in Mecca, stranded at a bus stop with no way out of the city. Now, Muslims never say that. To be in the holy city of Mecca is a privilege. It’s almost blasphemous to even consider oneself as being stuck or wanting to get out. But bear with me as I set the stage.
Khalid and I had taken ten days off from work and flown from New York to Saudi Arabia to perform the hajj. Whereas the ritual of hajj is for five days only, traditionally pilgrims stay much longer—a month or more— in the holy city of Mecca and in the city of Medina where the Prophet Muhammad (PBUH) is buried. They hope to get the most out of the spiritual experience, taking it all in before the hectic pace of the hajj begins. In our case, we had limited vacation, and thus would be spending less time in the holy cities. There is a reason why I am telling you this. Before I get there, let me continue with my preamble.
We flew into Jeddah—the port city of entrance for pilgrims— a few days before the hajj was to start. We had traveled with our friends Dr. Abdul Rehman and Razia Rehman and were staying with Razia’s cousin in Jeddah. They had connected us with a group that was to depart from Jeddah to Mecca on August 9, the first day of hajj. To begin the hajj, a pilgrim must put on an ihram—the required clothing for hajj, travel to a station outside the boundary of Mecca called the Meeqaat, declare the intention to make the hajj (silent intention), and then and only then, enter the city of Mecca and proceed to the Kaaba in the Grand Mosque. You cannot start the hajj from inside Mecca; you must be outside the city, go to the Meeqaat, perform the intention and then commence the hajj.
Why I am telling you about this too? Indulge me for a bit.
O.K. Now I am ready to begin my story. Hajj was to start on August 9. On August 8, Khalid and I decided to make a quick round trip to Mecca just to take in the spiritual experience before the hectic pace of hajj began. Note: we were still in Jeddah. So we took a cab to Mecca—a 45 minute ride—and spent the day at the Kaaba, circumambulating around it as we make the tawaaf, performing nafl optional prayers, reading the Qur’an, and reflecting. After the afternoon Asr prayer, we headed back. Our hosts had advised us to take the bus as cabs would not be available. So we made our way to the bus stop to get back to Jeddah. And that is when we hit a snag.
All the buses going to Jeddah, were packed with no seat to spare. Worse, they were not moving. Traffic jam. We waited by the buses, inhaling the exhaust, hoping that once the buses started moving, empty buses would roll in and we would get on.
Nothing moved.
We stood and we stood till my feet started hurting.
I started thinking about the worst-case scenarios: What if we don’t get a seat on a bus? What if we get a seat but the bus doesn’t move? What if we are left stranded here?
“Khalid, if we don’t get to Jeddah tonight, how will we join the hajj group? Our bags, our ihram, are all in Jeddah. Even if we ask Razia to bring our bags, how will we locate them?”
Remember dear reader, that this was the age of no-cellphones. Let’s assume that the above two conditions are met. There was another huge impediment. As I said earlier, to begin the hajj, you must be outside the city of Mecca—at the Meeqaat. We had to get out of Mecca. Get out today to be able to get back in, tomorrow.
In steps the angel of mercy.
While standing next to the bus, I had noticed a young man sitting in the bus by the open window, light-brown skin, dark hair, in an ihram. He appeared to be of Middle East descent. We had paid little attention to him for no reason other than, there was no reason.
“Khalid, we need to find another way to get to get out of Mecca,” I said.
The man in the bus looked at us, and making eye contact, spoke up.
“I was thinking about that too,” he said. I was taken aback. This man was speaking English. American English! His tan had thrown me off, and I just assumed that he was an Arab who spoke no English.
“I will take you to a place from where we can get to Jeddah,” he said.
He got off as we watched a man rush to take his seat.
“Come with me,” he beckoned.
I wondered if we were following the Pied Piper, but what choice did we have? So we followed him as he took us down the road, across the street, below the underpass, and through the alleys. We kept walking with him, putting our entire trust in him. We had no idea where were going, who we were going with, but he was a pilgrim like us, here to perform a sacred duty, so trust him. At no point did we ask: where are we going? Then we turned a bend, and there was a bus stop and a bus standing by, half empty.
“Jeddah, Jeddah,” a dispatcher was shouting.
The three of us boarded and immediately the bus started moving. The streets leading out of Mecca were practically empty since at this time of the day, pilgrims were making their way into Mecca, not exiting. Why the other bus was blocked and this one was not, is beyond me.
We got to Jeddah in less than an hour. When we walked into Razia’s cousin’s house, they all cried out, “We were worried about you.”
“We were worried about ourselves,” and told the whole story.
“This is the blessing of Mecca,” our host said. “Everyone pilgrim has a story to tell. This is the place where Allah listens to your call and what you ask for becomes a reality even before you can finish asking; and it happens when you least expect it.”
“And from someone you least expect it from,” I said.
As for our angel of mercy, we parted ways at the bus stop wishing one another Hajj Mabrook. I don’t think we asked him his name, or where he was from. For him, he just led us to the watering hole; for us it was the difference between performing the hajj or missing it entirely. It was more than a random act of kindness. We owe him our hajj.
PS: Read the complete story of our hajj in my book, It’s Not What You Think.
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