Ten days after they left Jedda the camels were hooshed down early and the moulvi announced that Mecca lay before them, hidden from view by two mountain ranges that ran north and south and enclosed the city. The news stirred the pilgrims and a mighty shout went up of ‘Lub-bay-yak’, a cry of praise, gratitude and submission to the will of Allah. Tomorrow they would enter the Holy City.
Now began a period of intense preparation in which the moulvis prayed and instructed the pilgrims until it was almost morning. They were not to fight among themselves but to enter the city in peace with a pure heart. They were not to use oils or perfumes on pain of having to sacrifice an extra sheep or goat. And they were not to retaliate if someone ill-treated them. Winifred listened for as long as she could, but fell asleep at about midnight. She woke to find Karum Bux still at his devotions on his prayer rug.
Before it was light, without eating, they mounted the camels again and rode down the mountain-ringed valley. As the sun rose Winifred had her first glimpse of the city below with the Great Mosque at its heart. Houses climbed up the mountains on either side. Every now and again she caught a glimpse of the five minarets with their onion domes and the gilded dome over the Zamzam Well, where the Angel of the Lord had appeared to Hagar after she had fled to the wilderness with her baby son, Ishmael. Winifred was filled with a sense of awe, as well as a feeling of great joy. She reached across and took her husband by the hand. When he turned to face her she saw his eyes were filled with tears.
The camels picked their way down the track which was covered with stones, until they were on the floor of a narrow street lined with houses. Here they halted and a number of the tourists were told to dismount and go into a tall white house. Winifred was ushered into a room with her family and she put down her bundles, ready to stretch out and rest. Instead Karum Bux said, ‘Hurry up, woman. Get a move on.’
‘Surely there’s time for a cup of tea. We haven’t eaten since yesterday morning.’
‘Be quiet,’ he said. ‘The moulvis are waiting below,’ and he hurried out the door while she followed with Pansy in her arms, holding a handful of dates for the child to eat.
Still not happy with the idea of going off without food, Winifred asked the moulvi what was happening and discovered that it was a race to simulate Hagar’s search for water for her dying baby, after she had been sent into the desert by Abraham, the father of her child, because of his wife Sarah’s jealousy. ‘Seven times she ran from hill to hill on this very spot, frantic, until the Angel of the Lord took pity and the sacred spring began to gush at the feet of Ishmael.’ He pointed to Pansy who was clinging to her mother. ‘You have a child, you will understand what it meant to Hagar to find water. Follow in her footsteps in peace.’ He touched Pansy lightly on the head. ‘May Allah bless you, my child.’
He gave the signal and the great crowd, which had fallen into single file, began to run madly down the street. Winifred had Pansy to carry and the road was stony. She was unable to slow down because the crush of people was too great and she was afraid of being trampled by those running behind her. She felt exhausted and it occurred to her that it would have been easier if Hagar had found water earlier. On the second lap Karum Bux took Pansy from her arms and Winifred allowed herself to slip to one side, only joining in again on the end of the seventh round, certain that everyone was so intent on themselves that for once she would go unnoticed.
Her husband was waiting for her at the mosque gates. He grabbed her by the arm and hurried her inside. There, holding Pansy on his shoulders and urging Winifred forward, he jostled his way through the huge crowd until they reached the shrine of the Kaaba, in the centre of the inner courtyard. Here they had to circle seven times, starting at the black stone and kissing it at each lap. The sacred stone was a large black meteorite embedded in a wall in one corner. In the centre of the stone was a circle of gold. Winifred noticed it was worn down by the imprint of so many lips. Each day the black Mameluke attendants wiped the ring with attar of roses. They wore a dagger strapped to their left arm and were fierce guardians of the relic, made sacred after the Prophet Mohammed kissed it.
It was too much for Winifred to take in on the first morning. She tried to remember the prayers for each circumambulation but had to pretend. No one noticed, each intent on his or her own experience, and she too experienced a strange sensation as she continued to circle, as if her soul had left her body. Later she noticed others in the same trance-like state but could not account for it.
After performing the ritual of the black stone, Winifred and her husband made their way to the Zamzam Well and joined the throng waiting to drink the miraculous water and fill small jars with the precious liquid so that it could be sprinkled on their body at the moment of death. Others were dipping clean calico into the water so that it could be used on their shroud.
The family remained in Mecca for a week, visiting the Great Mosque, a vast building with seven tall minarets. Winifred was awed by the sight of the interior, with carved pillars supporting the roof, the walls and floors covered with mosaics. The hanging glass chandeliers had been lit by electricity during the Turkish regime but Ibn Saud, who led the strict Wahabi sect, had removed all modern improvements. Each day a moulvi spoke to the pilgrims, reading from the Koran and exhorting his listeners to keep the faith. Winifred saw how they breathed in every word in complete silence, many wiping tears from their eyes.
Winifred, too, was moved by their devotion, knowing how much the pilgrimage meant to them. There was no music, no singing, only the voice of the moulvi and the swelling chorus rising from thousands of throats as they proclaimed their faith and asked forgiveness of their sins. Women were among the worshippers. On the hadj they walked unveiled, enjoying freedom denied them in their own countries.
Praying in the Great Mosque was a liberating experience which affected Winifred deeply. Carried away with fervour she felt as if her body had turned to water and she was part of a great river. As she prayed tears rolled down her cheeks. She heard Pansy, who was sitting beside her, say, ‘Don’t cry, Mummy. I’ll kiss it better,’ and she felt her little daughter’s lips on her cheeks, her fingers brushing away the tears. She reached out her arms and hugged the child, wishing with all her heart that she had not had to leave her sons behind in Karachi and that they too could have shared this moment.
22
JOURNEY INTO DANGER
THEY HAD FIVE WEEKS TO fill before the culminating ceremonies of the hadj. Karum Bux decided not to wait in Mecca but to join one of the camel trains going inland, through and beyond Medina. Here Mohammed had lived after his flight from Mecca and his tomb could be visited. It was not part of the hadj but an added glory for those who undertook the trip.
‘Our history did not begin until 24 September 622,’ Karum Bux told Winifred. ‘It is hard for you to understand.’
Winifred looked at him. There was no scorn in his voice as there sometimes was when he was angry with her because she was not born into the faith. They had finished their simple evening meal and Pansy was asleep, while Winifred reclined, propped up on one of the bolsters provided in their room.
‘Why did he have to leave?’ she asked.
‘He feared for his life. Mecca was the centre of trade, a place where caravans met and people came to worship at the shrine of the Kaaba. People who believed in many gods. When Mohammed began to preach that there was only one god, the merchants became angry. They were frightened of losing money if the pagans stopped visiting the shrine. He took refuge in Yathrib. Now they call it Medina, the City of the Prophet.’
‘Is it far?’
‘About four hundred miles. It all depends on how fast the camels go.’
She was tempted to ask if she and Pansy could remain behind till he returned, but knew it was not possible.
As if reading her mind he said, ‘Medina is not like this barren place. There is water and over one hundred types of date trees. All manner of fruits and vegetables. You will like it better than waiting here.’
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A few days later they were on their way to Medina, the second holiest city in Islam, oblivious to the dangers that lay in wait for them. Karum Bux had been overgenerous and had given liberal tips to the camel-men who had brought them from Jedda. Once the word spread, he was rushed by camel-men from other strings and even those who had nothing to do with their camel train. Now he had closed his purse and refused to give any more tips. The camel drivers were determined to be avenged.
It began out of Mecca when they started poking the sharpened sticks they used to goad the camels through their string beds. When Karum Bux woke feeling the sharp jab, he would sit up yelling, ‘Hell and damnation! If I catch you I’ll skin you alive.’ Then it would be Winifred’s turn. When she squealed in pain she would hear the sound of muffled laughter and the swift padding of feet across the sand.
Three days out of Mecca their journey became not only uncomfortable but dangerous. Instead of stopping to let the pilgrims rest, the camel drivers had travelled most of the night. It was 2 a.m. when they stopped beneath a sandy pocket surrounded by towering cliffs which ended in jutting peaks. It was desolate, with no vegetation, just a bare rock-face with caves like gaping black holes. Once these caves had been home to a race of cave-dwellers. The pass which ran between the mountains was barely wide enough for two camels.
Exhausted, the pilgrims dismounted and stretched out on the sand to sleep. Winifred lay watching the moon rise over the crest of the mountains. Karum Bux and Pansy lay asleep. Suddenly there was a glint from the side of one of the cliff walls and she sat up, wondering what it could be. She woke her husband and whispered to him. He in turn wakened the sleeper next to him, till the whole group was watching. Then they saw a bent figure creeping along the cliff edge with what looked like a rifle. At the same moment Karum Bux noticed their head driver, Gunga, gliding away. He realised there was not a camel to be seen.
‘Bedouins,’ he whispered. ‘Our drivers have left us to be robbed.’
In an instant, several of the young men were alert and raced after the head driver, catching him as he was about to disappear into one of the lower caves. They dragged him back at knifepoint, threatening to kill him unless he called the camel drivers back with the camels. Gunga let out a series of loud calls and the men returned with the camels, which Karum Bux ordered them to resaddle. As fast as they were saddled, the women were helped on. By this time Winifred could see several figures crouched on the escarpment.
When ten camels bearing the women were loaded and tied head to tail, Karum Bux handed Winifred the leading string. ‘Take the camels through the pass. Hurry!’
Trembling, Winifred handed Pansy to a woman on the lead camel and then, terrified of being shot, began to urge the sleepy camels forward. It was only a short distance but it seemed like a hundred miles, every noise sounding like the click of a rifle. She tried to urge the sleepy camels to go faster but they turned their heads, snapping and snarling, irritable at being woken. Pulling on the lead ropes with all her strength, she forced them forward. They crossed the moonlit sand, lurched through the narrow gap, and were out of range of the guns.
Winifred kept walking, the cold biting through her thin shalwars and chador, her feet like lead in the heavy sand. Walking on and on, the camels lurching along behind her, until she could go no further. The sky was streaked with pink when she called ‘Hoosta!’ and the camels knelt so that the women could dismount. They prostrated themselves and gave thanks to Allah for saving them.
Winifred remained where she was, conscious that the sun had risen and was warming the sand. She was roused by the sound of Karum Bux shouting, ‘Stupid woman, why did you have to travel so far? You could have waited outside the gap. It’s only by the grace of Allah we have found you. If the wind had sprung up, your tracks would have been hidden.’
Winifred stared at him without speaking until his words sunk in. She flung herself face-down on the sand and wept bitterly. She felt him raise her in his arms and heard him say, ‘I was terrified I may not find you. In another hour it could have been too late.’ He carried her back to their camel, placed her on her string bed and covered her with a blanket.
The caravan continued, but there was still tension between the drivers and the pilgrims. They were in open country now, away from the cliffs, which seemed safer.
It was night and they were sleeping when Karum Bux woke to find the camels had stopped moving. With a shock he realised the camel drivers had disappeared. Instead of a string of thirty beasts they were reduced to seven.
‘The nose rope was deliberately cut,’ he said. ‘Lord knows how far back on the track they abandoned us. The camels may have swerved round completely by this time.’
There were fifteen people in the group that had been stranded. Winifred wondered if they would be missed by the other pilgrims. And even if they were, the drivers might refuse to turn back. They had no way of knowing which way to go, or how far the camels had travelled after their nose lines were cut.
The pilgrims argued long and bitterly about whether to go forward or wait for someone to find them, which might take days. By then they would have all died of thirst. Their red clay pots only held about three pints of water and few had as much as a pint left.
There was no shade and the camels were edgy, until Karum Bux hooshed them down and the pilgrims sat in the shade of the jute howdahs to conserve their energy. What surprised Winifred was how the pilgrims accepted their fate. They believed that if no one came to their aid it was the will of Allah that they die. Winifred was not so accepting. The following night she cried bitterly but soundlessly into her blankets, terrified at the thought of Pansy dying.
Later, as she lay awake, she could hear the faithful praying. It no longer consoled her, knowing there was little chance of rescue. Their one hope was that the camels would move of their own accord, seeking water when they felt thirsty.
They had been stranded for two days and the water jars were almost empty when the pilgrims began to argue among themselves. Some of the men wanted to move on, though none knew the way. Karum Bux listened to the arguments and said, ‘It remains for us to be patient and move as little as possible. The camels will lead us to water if we put our trust in Allah.’
He spoke sense and was able to persuade the rest of the party that it was safer to wait than to die of thirst trying to find the way when there were no tracks. On the evening of the third day Karum Bux spoke to the men again, saying, ‘Brothers, it is better that we load the camels while we still have the strength. After prayers mount your camel and wait. It is four days since the camels drank. Help me cut the nose lines so they will feel free to move.’
By this time Pansy was listless with a fever and Winifred felt weak and ill, unable to do much to help the child. That night, as if the pilgrims’ prayers had been answered, the camels became restless, turning their heads as if expecting their drivers to urge them on. A short time later one moved, and then another. They paused again, as if waiting for their drivers, then slowly they began to move forward. Just before dawn they broke into a long, loping movement until they pulled up with a jerk, their necks bent. By the dim light Winifred could see they were drinking. In a second Karum Bux was off the camel and had lifted Pansy and Winifred down.
It was another of Abraham’s wells, an oasis off the pilgrim route. They were the only travellers. About a dozen Arabs lived nearby, and from them they bought dates and goats’ milk, plus a few cucumbers. They stayed for two days to regain their strength and then paid a guide to lead them to the rest of their party. It was late afternoon when they caught up. Their misfortune was treated as an accident and they did not press the point, even though they knew it was no accident. Instead, they kept a sharp eye on their drivers, fearing further treachery.
The rest of the trip passed without incident and they arrived safely in Medina. It was a pleasure to be among trees again. Winifred found the people friendlier than those in Mecca. She thought the men were the most handsome she had ever seen, with a creamy
complexion, rather long faces and soft brown eyes. But she had no idea what the women looked like. They were covered with the heavy burqa, made heavier by the coins sewn on the face-covering. When they went to the markets she was intrigued to see them cut off a coin to pay for their purchases.
Here there were not the crowds they had encountered in Mecca, and Winifred and Pansy moved around freely. There was a good supply of fresh meat, cucumbers, onions, an edible grass and plenty of fresh water, things that had been short in Mecca and Jedda.
Feeling fresh and rested they went at last to the mosque, which Winifred found imbued with a gentle sadness. She had the feeling that the spirit of the Prophet still lingered, watching over the place he had come to love. As she entered the huge carved door to the courtyard she imagined she was walking underneath the sea because of the soft green light that filtered through the green dome. It was so high that date palms grew beneath it.
Under the dome was a four-roomed dwelling, its outer walls of intricate wrought iron, a peephole in the centre of each wall. Inside the first room the floor was patterned with black and white squares. In the centre stood the tomb of the Prophet Mohammed covered in black velvet. The inner walls were of gilded black wrought iron draped with black velvet curtains and the flags Mohammed had carried in battle. When Winifred asked the moulvi about the battles he replied, ‘Mohammed, peace be on his name, was a wise and just man. The Prophet had been promised that he could return to Mecca on a pilgrimage, but he and his followers were betrayed. The next time he went he led a force of 10 000. Mohammed, by the grace of Allah, was able to enter the city where he destroyed the pagan idols. He was a lenient and forgiving conqueror. Many of his enemies passed to Islam. His flags are here to remind us of his struggles.’
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