In the beginning
This has taken a really long time to write about. My Hajj
journey took place in 2017. The actual flight date was sometime at the end of July. Of
course the preparation took place years before. In Malaysia, to go to Hajj we
have to register with the Hajj ‘governing’ body. And the queue is quite long,
but Alhamdulillah my mom and I got our turn to go in 2017. It was the first
Hajj for me and my mom’s third. I got the good news that my turn had come for
Hajj in December 2016. Upon receiving the confirmation letter, I had to go
through a series of events that finally led to the day of departure. First of
all, I had to go through a series of talks on the dos and don’ts of Hajj.
Actually I had been to two previous ones before, but this time I am more focused,
because this time I really will get to go for Hajj. Before, it was just a
knowledge acquisition exercise. In order to go for Hajj, the pilgrims have to
be certified fit. Hence we have to go through medical check-ups by authorised
health providers. It was during this check-up that I discovered that I had
several ailments and had to be put on several types of medication. For one
moment in the middle of the visits to the doctors, I was told by a doctor (who
had very little tact) that I can kiss my Hajj goodbye, because as far as she
was concerned, I was not fit. But as my daughter told me afterwards, it is not
for her to decide. Allah will decide for me. And lo behold He did. After a final
check-up, the nice female specialist doctor told me I had no need for worries,
I can go for my Hajj. Hence, I was finally certified fit to go round about
Ramadhan time, sometime in May or June
2017. The situation for my mom over in Terengganu was quite different. She was
certified fit immediately by the doctors, even though she was a diabetic and
suffered from hypertension. I suppose her condition was stable and managed
well. At one point she became very worried that we will not be able to make our
Hajj journey because of my condition.
As the day drew closer, I became a lot apprehensive. A lot of
things occupied my mind. I was terribly concerned about my family (even though
they are all grown up and my husband will be around with them) whom will be
left behind. Will they be able to cope? What if they get sick? What if I never
come back? And many more. To some extent I managed to quieten my mind by
telling myself that Allah will look after them. He has done it all this while
anyway.
She left me
So, after a lot of years waiting in the queue for Hajj, I
finally set foot in Madinah (my second time in Madinah actually, the first time
was for an academic conference). I remembered we arrived in the morning and was
in our hotel rooms just before Zohor prayers. My mom and I were booked into a
three bedroom hotel room. The hotel was nice and comfortable. We settled in and
got into a routine of going to Masjid Nabawi from the hotel and back. We would
go for our subuh prayers and we would walk back slowly to the hotel. I realized
that my mom can be quite tired if we walked too fast. I was actually quite
concerned about her physical state. I worried that she might not be up to the
tawaf and sai activities once we arrived in Mekah for our umrah wajib. I talked
to her about it and we made arrangements for some form of assistance for the
said activities once we get to Mekah. We stayed for about one week in Madinah.
We had a ritual whereby almost every morning, after we had our breakfast at the
hotel, we would walk back to the Masjid and spend our time reading the Quran
and drink lots of zam zam water inside the masjid. Other pilgrims will usually
spend their time queuing for visits to Raudhah during these times. My mom and I
opt out the visit to Raudhah because we realized that Raudhah is too far for my
mom to walk to and at the time she refused to take the wheelchair. I remembered
my mom felt quite at odds with this because she felt that she had robbed me out
of the opportunity to visit Raudhah. I told her that I was ok with it because I
had visited Raudhah several times during my first visit to Masjid Nabawi. I
suppose she was not totally convinced with my reasoning because, on the last
day of our stay, she insisted that we took the long walk to Raudhah, to bid
farewell to our beloved Prophet (s.a.w). We had to make several stops during
the walk, so that she can rest and take bites of the bread that she brought
with her (because she was quite afraid of being hypo). When we finally arrived
at the designated area, there are already hundreds of people queuing to go into
Raudhah. Seeing that it will be a long and claustrophobic wait, we finally
decided to offer our farewell doa just there in the masjid. She told me to read
the doa, which I did. After we finished the recitation, we slowly walked back
to our hotel. We had our lunch and subsequently waited for our buses that will
take us to Mekah. We were in good spirits. I remembered my mom making jokes and
telling stories to other pilgrims. Later in that day on our way to Mekah, just
after doing her Asar prayers, in her ihram, my mom left us to be with Allah on
the 7th of August. Inna lillahi wainna Ilaihi rojiun. Those were the
words that were uttered by me when the doctor told me that she had gone. My mom
had left me.
 |
| Mornings in Nabawi |
Who was my mom?
Her name was Atikah Abdullah. The Abdullah here signifies
that she was adopted. Her adoptive parents were quite ‘privileged people’ in
Terengganu, which will remain anonymous here for various reasons. Because of
certain status that was enjoyed by her parents, she had an easy childhood. She
used to recall how she was taken in car rides just so that she would stop
crying. However, as she got older she realized that she had to have more than a
silver spoon in her mouth. She wanted to have an education and insisted that
she was enrolled in a teacher training college. My grandparents had no choice
but succumb to her requests and so off she went to MWTC in Melaka and later
became a certified teacher and taught in schools around Kuala Terengganu. She had dedicated most of her life to teach
children how to read and write at an age when preschools had not came into
existence in Terengganu. When all of us, my sisters and I, had graduated and secured jobs, we suggested to her that she should retire and enjoy her life as
a lady of leisure. She did listen to us and retired when she was 48 years old.
Post retirement she became an avid traveller. She and my dad travelled to
Turkey, Jordan, Indonesia, Thailand and numerous times to Mekah and Madinah for
their umrahs. They managed to perform their Hajj twice. In her early 60s, she
decided to equip herself with more knowledge about the Quran. A chance meeting
with an Ustazah led her to seriously study a method for translating (into
Malay) the Quranic verses. Upon completing the course, the Ustazah encouraged
her to teach others. Hence began her journey as a teacher of the Quran. In
2011, following the demise of my beloved father, my mom decided to stay alone
in Terengganu. She had refused to stay with any of us. On occasions when she
did come to our houses for visits, I can see that she was totally out of her
element. She was like fish out of water. She felt trapped. So, when she
insisted to stay alone in Terengganu, we reluctantly agreed with the decision,
because it was one that made her happy. Being a fiercely independent woman, I
suppose that was the only logical decision that suited her. She carried on
giving lessons about the Quran. She held several classes a week in suraus near
her home. Her students were actually her friends and neighbours. That was
essentially her life prior to the Hajj trip in 2017. It was a life that
revolved around the Quran. She would spend hours going through her notes just
before she gave her classes. She would contact her Ustazah in case she had any
queries before and after her classes. During other times she would listen to
recordings of the Quran in an effort to memorize surahs of the Quran. She would
sometimes stay awake into the wee hours at night to memorize those verses. She also
relentlessly recites the Quran daily and managed to khatam the Quran many times
a week. I recall her complaining about herself if she had read ‘too little’
Quran in any day. I suppose it made her feel incomplete. That was the
relationship that she had with the Quran. It made her happy and fulfilled. In
fact now that she is gone, I really missed my discussions with her concerning
the Quran.
Where are the tears?
The events after my mom had passed away were surreal. We were
in a moving bus on our way to Mekah. I remembered how a doctor, a fellow
pilgrim came and check her pulse and declared that she was no longer with us.
This was then followed by a scurry of activities, whereby phone calls were made for an ambulance to meet us at the next rest area. There were also calls made to
Tabung Haji people, travel agent people and also to the muassasah
representative. After Maghrib prayers at the RnR, I was hurried off into an
ambulance with my mom’s jenazah. The muassasah representative told me that my
mom will be laid to rest in Baqi’ just outside Masjid Nabawi. In the ambulance
I kept holding my mom so that she would not fall off the stretcher because the
ambulance was driven very fast. We were brought to a hospital in Madinah (I
cannot recall the name) where I was questioned by the attending doctor
regarding the circumstances of my mom’s demise. I called the travel agent’s
Ustaz who promptly came with the Tabung Haji people. They told me that I had to
follow them to complete some documentation at the Muassasah office in Madinah.
All in all everything went smoothly and my mom was laid to rest in Baqi’ after
subuh prayers. I attended her jenazah prayers as a makmum, one lonely figure
out of thousands that congregate that morning. I prayed that my mom is forgiven
for all her sins and will be given the highest of Jannah. During the whole
event until the jenazah prayers, I realized that I had not shed much tears. I
did not know why. It might be shock, or it might just be me being strong.
However, it was during my two days wait for the bus out to Mekah, alone in a
hotel room that I suddenly became very sad. It was like someone turned on a
pipe of never ending tears. I cried and cried until I cannot breathe. I did not
cry because I am angry that she was taken away from me. Because at 78, I knew
that her days with me will not be as many as when she was 40. I also did not
cry because I felt that there are many things I should have done for her and
with her. This was not the case because I had made it a point in my life to
spend most of my holidays with my parents in Terengganu. I took long breaks to
be with my parents. I called them almost every week and after my dad died and
my mom was alone in Terengganu, I called her almost every evening, because she
always told me that evenings are her loneliest times of the day. So, as far as
redha goes, I was ready to let her go. I was happy that she was laid to rest in
Baqi’. And yet the tears flowed. I suppose what made me feel really sad is the
fact that I will not have her around anymore. No more phone calls in the
evening, no more discussions, no more opportunities to savour her uniquely
cooked dishes: her nasi goreng, her ketupat sotong, her ayam masak merah, her
nasi minyak, her various puddings….and her special nescafe. All that are left
now are memories of her. Her attempts to make the perfect nasi dagang will
always remind me of her persistent nature in whatever undertakings that she
took. This, coupled with her idiosyncratic ways of doing things, like her “OS”
for the washing machine, will always be remembered fondly. Till we meet again
Mom, in Jannah in sya Allah. Aameen.
 |
| Her resting place in Baqi' |
The Aftermath
After performing the umrah wajib, the days that followed were
filled with the usual activities of going to and from the Masjidil Haram,
performing the obligatory prayers. I usually go with my room mates who really
took very good care of me. I suppose they felt sorry for me, the fact that I
lost my Mom. During the times in the masjid, in between prayers or in my hotel
room, I spent most of the time reading the Quran. Specifically, I read my mom’s
copy of the Quran and made sure I finished reading it in Mekah. Needless to say
I spent a lot of my time making doas for my parents and my family. One of the
specific doa that I did not miss making was the ‘rabbi yassir wa la tu’assir’
doa. I asked Allah for ease in all the activities required in the Hajj. He did
answer my doa. On reflection, I know that it was not my effort alone that
enabled me to walk 7 km for the stoning ritual. I mean, everyone who knew me
will testify that I am not a one hundred percent physically fit person.
However, Allah was there to ease everything for me. He helped me through. He
gave me the strength and will power to carry on at the times when my legs felt
like jelly. I know it might sound very clichéd, but Allah did answer my doa and
everything was actually made easy for me. In Mina, queuing for the toilets were
never an issue; there were many kind hearted people that allowed me to jump
queues. In Arafah, where so many were restless in the humid tents (a result of
the scorching heat outside the tents), Alhamdulillah I managed to keep my cool.
The sight at Muzdalifah is forever etched in my mind. To see thousands of
people sitting under the bright moonlight offering doa and picking stones was
quite humbling and enlightening in so many ways. The tawaf and sai sessions
were also quite challenging. Thousands of people were cramming to circle the
Kaabah and do the sai. Alhamdulillah my room mates and I made it even though it
took us hours to complete the tawaf and sai. It is all Allah’s doing. He eased
my journey. He helped me through. Alhamdulillah for all His mercy that He had
showered on me, my room mates and friends during the Hajj. Alhamdulillah.
 |
| My view of the Kaabah |
Coming home was both sad and sweet. It was sad because I had
to say goodbye to Mekah and to my Mom. I do not know when I will be given the
opportunity to walk the cool marble floors of the Masjidil Haram and drink the
zam zam water to my heart's content again. I do not know when I can visit
Masjid Nabawi again and maybe get close to my mom’s resting place in Baqi’. And coming back home with my mom’s luggage
with me was a bit odd to say the least. It was sweet because I had finally
managed to perform the Hajj. All these years prior to performing the Hajj, I
always felt that I was not a ‘complete’ muslim. I mean, I had not done the
fifth pillar of Islam. So Alhamdulillah there is some sweetness in the feeling
of ‘accomplishment’. I was also very happy that I get to meet my children,
husband and sisters again. During Hajj I was always apprehensive about whether
I will live long enough to meet them again, I mean what with my mom leaving us
so suddenly. So anyway, it was sweet that I finally got home. I remembered that
I talked almost non- stop recounting the day that my mom died and also all
other events that I had gone through during the Hajj.
May Allah forgives all of our sins, accepts all of our good
deeds and grants us the highest Jannah. Aamiin.
