Tawaf Happenings

Tawaf Happenings
Last night, when we were on the second or third lap of our Tawaf for Umrah, there was suddenly a commotion in front of us. We thought somebody had collapsed or something like that but when we got to the spot of the incident, we saw a cute pile of shit and someone was frantically warning other pilgrims of the booby trap.
Now, how could that happen? Whoever who did it must have squatted to do it, given the texture of the stuff. What was he thinking? It must have been a "he" because we males don't wear underwear under our Ihram. I can't help thinking it was deliberate!
That beat everything that happened during our tawaf Haji. We did that on the day after Wukuf, on Hari Raya Haji, after Zohor. The crowd was at its peak. We were not allowed to enter at ground level so we went to the first floor which meant a bigger circumference to traverse. Not only that. Because of the huge pillars and the massive crowd, we were squeezed in bottlenecks every 10/20 yards. So we went downstairs after the first lap. Downstairs, it was like being ground nuts in a frying pan. It was literally shoulder to shoulder and you can move only with very small steps. Actually, all you need to do is to stay on your feet and allow the forces around you to move you in the right direction. The usual mix was there that day. You can't help thinking that national pride was somehow at stake like at the Olympics as many were dressed in their national colors or brightly coloured uniforms provided by their travel agents and sponsors. I guess that's so that they can easily identify each other in the crowd but uniforms also tend to boost team spirit and generate over-exuberance in what should be a solemn endeavor. You see them deploy various tactics in order to "win", whatever winning means in their minds. Some well-built Africans would form an elbow-to-elbow chain and steam-roll anything/anyone that dares get in their way. Indonesians are fond of forming long-trains with a nippy guy built like a rugby hooker in front. He would use his hands to get ahead of the person in front and once he's through, the whole train gets through. These kind of groups would often have a leader to loudly read the recommended supplications, to be recited when you perform the Tawaf, followed by members of his flock. So while doing the Tawaf, you hear Arabic scripts being recited in various dialects and slangs ranging from East European to Chinese, Urdu, Iranian and Indon Malay which make quite a cacophany. Then there are those who seemed to be in such a weak and precarious position (like an egg at the tip of a horn?) that you wonder why they were there at all eg. a young family with Papa carrying a baby, Mama walking beside him and 3 year old daughter who must be panic stricken walking in front of them. Amidst all these, you got the spoilers - people who think that that was the best time to try to kiss the Hajaratul Aswad, to cling to the black cloth covering the Kaabah like bats, to touch the door of the Kaabah etc. and after getting blessed that way, feel they have been conferred the divine right to move against traffic flow to go straight to wherever they want to go, irregardless of the problem they cause to people doing the Tawaf.
On our third lap, we heard a loud commotion in front of us. A few steps later, we saw what caused it. A tall and well-built strapping young man was being led away. There was a huge lump below his left eye, as if his eye had been dislodged off its socket. Then, another smaller man was being led away, with a bloodied broken nose. It had to happen!
Later on, I pointed out the irony to Mai - That six feet tall young man got hurt really bad doing the tawaf that day. But the helpless three year old girl most probably finished unscathed!

Footnote: Our own Tawaf Haji ended very well. We finished just as the Asar azan was called. Somehow space cleared up for us to pray Sunat Tawaf behind Makam Ibrahim and recite the recommended doa undisturbed.

KAB
Sent from my iPad

Hikmah Haji

Hikmah Haji

Rehman posed me this question over e-mail after reading my Haj Report:

So my question is: Did the Prophet s.a.w. intend this grand and mandatory ritual to be such an ordeal and trial? My impression was that it was meant to celebrate and commemorate. What is it now?

I am not sufficiently schooled to give an authoritative answer but I think the Haj is a "mandatory-if-able" ritual whereas Eid Adha is the celebration for those who successfully complete it. 

The only valid rationalization for religion is to inspire you to be the best person you can be. The Haj, I believe, is a divine personal development programme, with very much the same design objectives as the OBS (Outward Bound School) or Team Building Programmes popular with large corporations. You are made to undertake some seemingly meaningless tasks designed to bring the best and the worse out of you and to learn from the experience in order to make you a better person. Corporations often publish shared-value statements. I don't know what are the cardinal values of a Good Muslim but according to Syed Hossein Nasr, they are Truth or Sincerity, Humility and Charity (or nobility). Where the first is concerned, just like in Golf, during Haj, you are your own referee. You make the calls to penalize yourself and pay the fines should you contravene the rules. The humility aspect is obvious from the fact that no matter how rich you are, you are made to dress the same way (although it's quite amazing that some people manage to look rich while in Ihram), virtually go camping at Arfah and Mina, and get pushed around like everybody else during Tawaf. Where charity is concerned, you are encouraged to sedekah as much as possible during Haj and to be on your best behaviour. Practically though, the values that get tested the most during Haj are Patience and Gratitude. Right from the time you land at Jeddah, your patience is tested by the immigration authorities, the transport people, the hotel people and other pilgrims. virtually everything is done on Insha'allah basis here and they seem to conspire to be facilitators of "dugaan" or trials. And Gratitude, well, it's really easy to recognize small blessings over here such that you learn not to take things for granted.

Hence, I think it's a common mistake to think that one should perform Haj when you are aged, at the dusk of your life, to cleanse yourself before you die. One should perform Haj when you are young, to prepare yourself before you plunge into life in the real world. Children, nephews and nieces, please note.

P.S. I am pining for some response to what I have been posting recently.   

Haj Report

Alhamdulillah, Cik Mai and I managed to complete the Haj formalities and Tabung Haji Travel will, Insha'allah, award us with a certificate of attendance. Tapi, kemabruran nya belum tahu lagi.
Actually, we almost didn't complete the melontar. Since we are too spoilt to use the austere toilet facilities at Mina, we chose to commute to-and-fro Mina. The first day at Mina, not realising that we are now 14 years older than we were on our first Haj, after the first melontar, we walked all the way back to Makkah. By the way, the new Jamrat has 4 storeys and is like an aircraft hangar. There is no question of congestion but the distance one has to walk is something else. On paper, it is supposed to be 3 km from our camp but it felt more like 5. And, from the Jamrat to Makkah, there are so many different routes and possible modes of transport as well as charges. That first day, we must have walked 4-5 hours, including doing our tawaf and going back to Mina at night as required. The next morning, we managed to get a ride on a coach (standing all the way) from close to the camp straight to Makkah but by the time we got back to our hotel room, we were flat out sick, with blisters, muscle aches, coughing, everything. We popped pills and stayed in bed the whole day hoping our strength will recover by the evening. We didn't quite recover and seriously considered not going back to Mina and paying Dam. But the advice from the Tabung Haji Ustaz who we consulted (Nak bayar dam boleh tapi Tuan Haji baik istighfar banyak-banyak. Sape suroh Tuan Haji balek Makkah?) really got to us. We dragged ourselves out of bed after Isha, jumped into a taxi that took us to a new access point to Jamrat that meant a longer walk. It's not like we can stop for a rest anywhere because being well-mannered Malays, we don't know how to spread ourselves on the roadside like the Indons, Pakis and everyone else does. The two of us were clinging to each other for support to stay on our feet and when we got to the camp, we were at the end of our tethers.
The next morning, after a good night's rest, we walked the 3 km for our final melontar (nafar awal) and walked to a bus station that had many buses but none was moving and people were everywhere. There were also Arabs on motorbikes offering rides back to Makkah Indon Ojek style and we jumped on one. Imagine that, three of us on one motorbike, with no helmets, weaving between buses and cars stuck in traffic, sometimes going against traffic! We got back to Makkah unscathed and in record time, much to our relieve.
Thus ended our Haj. If you guys plan on doing it, you are well-advised to do it while you are able to walk 10 km a day and use a squatting toilet. 

A Prayer in Makkah

A Prayer in Makkah


Oh God, Please forgive me for being angry at people who
- think they are your biggest devotees and others have to give way to them. 
- think Tawaf is a race or go in the wrong direction during Tawaf so as to take the shortest route to where they want to go. 
- arrive early at the mosque but instead of going in, park themselves to be barriers to traffic going in and out. 
- think that the marbled courtyard around the mosque is a great place to have a family picnic or chit-chat among friends after prayers.
- move around in long trains, each clinging desperately to the one in front. 

Makkah Anecdote

 Makkah Anecdote

Masjidil Haram is always especially crowded for Friday prayers. On our first Friday here, on 12th November, the Friday before Wukuf, we decided to walk to the mosque at 10 a.m., about two hours before Zohor. We hardly walked a quarter of the 400 meters to the mosque before we could go no further - the authorities have cordoned off the mosque a full 200 meters from its entrance, the entire marbled courtyard surrounding it in front of Hilton. We were still on the slimy bitumen road approaching the mosque with more people squeezing behind us and people were starting to sit down on the road, under the increasingly hot sun, shoulder-to-shoulder, knee-to-back. We were literally packed like sardines with no way forward, backward or sideways. And where did we find ourselves? We could sit on the 10-inch-high road-divider, quite comfortable, without which I would have suffered with my bad back. STILL PRIVILEDGED! ALHAMDULILLAH! We waited like that for two hours for the Azan and prayed while sitting down.

Things

Things
I remember one Hari Raya, I cried because Tok Ayah didn't buy me a new songkok or a pair of Bata leather shoes like he normally did. Instead, he made me wear one of his kopiah's and the white canvas badminton master that I wore to school when we went visiting.
On another occassion, I asked for some underwear because I was getting laughed at for not wearing any even though I was 12. He picked out some adult size cycling supporters from the shelves in the shop and made our tailor uncle alter them to fit me. I never wore them. I can't remember when I got my first pair of underwear but I suspect Mak Ngah (our spinster grand aunt who was the family's Queen Bee) had something to do with it. 
Another unsatisfied chilhood 'want' I had was a bicycle. I was bought a small one when I was eight as reward for circumcision. I quickly outgrew it and by standard 6, I was too embarassed to ride it and really wanted a new one. I never got it. I walked/ran the 1/2 mile or so to school and the tennis courts. I guess this helped build my stamina. I won the first cross country race I ran at 13.
And then there were the needs/wants to do with my tennis. Tok Ayah of course never enquired about my needs. I started playing with rackets given to Tong Hooi by members of Lian Tong Tennis Club. My first racket was sold by Cikgu Mahadi, supposed to be paid for by installments, but he never collected. I remember some other people gave me rackets - Tengku Nasron and Datuk Mokhsin of the Kelantan Civil Service Club, S A Azman the then national champion and Uncle Kamal who gave me money to buy the then fashionable metal racket which unfortunately I didn't use very long because the grip I chose was too big. It wasn't just rackets that I needed. I was wearing out shoes once a month. To save, I even practiced bare-footed. When my racket strings burst, I didn't have the whole thing replaced - replacing one or two strings would do. But worse all was playing alongside those rich kids from the west coast in tournaments. They wore Adidas shoes and change their Fred Perry shirts after every set. I wore Bata shoes and and Black Cat t-shirts that I didn't change an entire day of 3 matches.
I have often told Tirah to diffentiate needs from wants but I guess the line in between is very blurred and it depends on your circumstances. Was the songkok a need or a want? It was a need because I was used to getting a full baju melayu suit with handed down songket and songkok every year. But then, I don't remember the other kids around our house in Kampong Puteh ever wearing full baju melayu. No peer pressure there! I guess the point I am trying to make is that we are all naturally acquisitive, always wanting what we don't have. Wants can easily turn into needs. I am not preaching the virtues of poverty or zuhud (not yet) but one effect of my chilhood is that I am always apologetic about spending, especially on myself. Recently, times being good, I told Mama I am going reward myself with the ultimate golf set. I didn't. I bought a set that was on offer which turn out to be a fake. Sigh. But that's ok. I am living beyond my dreams. Two years ago, I bought a pair of Adidas "Stan Smith" tennis shoes, the model that was the rave in 1973 which I couldn't afford which i never wore. And I bought a 500 ringgit tennis racquet in 2000,( top of the line!) even though I don't play anymore. The list of my inessential, frivolous and ostentatious acquisitions is too long to be produced here. The guilt is getting less. I fear that I have become another Pretender like Jackson Browne prophesied in 1978:

      I'm going to rent myself a house
In the shade of the freeway
I'm going to pack my lunch in the morning
And go to work each day
And when the evening rolls around
I'll go on home and lay my body down
And when the morning light comes streaming in
I'll get up and do it again
Amen
Say it again
Amen

I want to know what became of the changes
We waited for love to bring
Were they only the fitful dreams
Of some greater awakening
I've been aware of the time going by
They say in the end it's the wink of an eye
And when the morning light comes streaming in
You'll get up and do it again
Amen

Caught between the longing for love
And the struggle for the legal tender
Where the sirens sing and the church bells ring
And the junk man pounds his fender
Where the veterans dream of the fight
Fast asleep at the traffic light
And the children solemnly wait
For the ice cream vendor
Out into the cool of the evening
Strolls the pretender
He knows that all his hopes and dreams
Begin and end there

Ah the laughter of the lovers
As they run through the night
Leaving nothing for the others
But to choose off and fight
And tear at the world with all their might
While the ships bearing their dreams
Sail out of sight

I'm going to find myself a girl
Who can show me what laughter means
And we'll fill in the missing colors
In each other's paint-by-number dreams
And then we'll put out dark glasses on
And we'll make love until our strength is gone
And when the morning light comes streaming in
We'll get up and do it again
Get it up again

I'm going to be a happy idiot
And struggle for the legal tender
Where the ads take aim and lay their claim
To the heart and the soul of the spender
And believe in whatever may lie
In those things that money can buy
Thought true love could have been a contender
Are you there?
Say a prayer for the pretender
Who started out so young and strong
Only to surrender

Yes, say a prayer for me and for all us, that we win the jihad against our acqusitive instincts, that we remember our humble beginnings and the less fortunate among us and that we are always grateful for all the blessings God has showered upon us.

Selamat Hari Raya everyone.  

God and the 3-foot Putt

The objective of the game of golf is to put the ball into the hole with as few strokes as possible using any of 14 clubs you have in the bag. Every shot you hit, whether its 300 yards with your driver or a 6-inch putt into the hole with your putter or with any club in between, counts as a stroke. Even if you hit the ball 200 yards with your 3-wood to 2 feet from the hole, which is an amazing feat, you still have to putt-out i.e. put the ball into the hole with your putter. You do not get exempted from holing out even if you hit a great long shot!

Many golfers, including pros, suffer from an infliction called “putting yips”. When attacked, they cannot hole a three-foot putt to save their lives. And once you are attacked, you can never be totally cured of the “disease”. It comes upon you at the most crucial moments in a game, most famously when Bernhard Langer missed a four-footer to lose the Ryder Cup in the early nineties.

I am one of those who suffer from yips in a chronic way. The long game is natural to me because of my tennis and hockey background. I don’t hit the ball super long but I hit it straight, seldom losing my ball in the roughs or hazards. But on the greens, I am really bad. In my early years at the game, I attributed my poor putting to my natural personality trait of not liking to finish off a task. I always start things off very well but I find finishing, like cleaning up after messing up the kitchen, pretty mundane. I also used as an excuse that having a killer instinct has never been a strong point of mine. I used to miss sitters in tennis quite regularly. But the real reason I believe is fear; fear of being embarrassed by failing to accomplish something even a five-year-old can. Gradually, this gets transformed to giving up even before I execute the stroke. “What’s the point of trying if it never happens?” In golf parlance, this is called defeating yourself. Eventually, you are overcome by complete despair. “Oh, God! Why is this happening to me?” Starting five years ago, I actually freeze over the ball, not able to move a muscle, getting out of it with jerky stabs at the ball. A 3-foot putt can end up 8 feet away from the hole. This, of course, compounds the agony.

I am actually a good putter but only on the practice green. I have a smooth, flowing putting stroke that many envy and my directional orientation is superb. On a flat surface, I can hit a one-inch target from 20 feet quite regularly. So the problem is entirely mental or psychological. It’s like one of those phobias people are inflicted with, like the fear of heights. How do you overcome it?

Late last year, I came across a book by a golf psychologist. Imagine that, an entire book on putting! I read it cover-to-cover and back again. I put into practice the advice contained and lo-and-behold, my putting improved. My handicap went down by 4 strokes in six months! Given that, statistically, one can only play to his handicap only 25% of the time, this is a remarkable feat indeed, even if I say so myself. And then, after the Ramadhan lay-off, the yips came back. In one game last week, I four-putted 3 consecutive greens, which is ridiculous.

This, of course, set me thinking again. Ironically, this is one of the recognized causes of yips: thinking too much. But then, how do you solve a problem without thinking? Even if the answer is to do nothing, it requires thinking.

The major advice in the book is that the most successful putters putt instinctively. Just decide in which direction you want to putt and stroke the ball. Don’t think about whether your clubface is open or close, your backswing and follow-through or anything technical about the stroke. Just let your natural instinct take over. To give up control is to gain control, it says. I was following that advice for six months with reasonable results and suddenly it deserted me. At first, I was stroking the ball well enough but was simply choosing the wrong lines. If I decide to putt straight, the ball breaks; if I decide to take a break (aim outside the hole) it goes dead straight. After a few such occurrences, I started giving up even before executing the putt; I approach the greens with fear of 3-putting and finally, the dreaded freeze set in.

After one such outing last week, I muttered to my playing buddy that the reason it’s happening to me is that I lack faith or “kurang iman”. Huh? You see, for years now, whenever my children are about to do something significant like taking an examination or entering some sporting competition, I tell them to say “Bismillah”, do their best and accept the outcome (Tawakkal). I haven’t been following my own advice. This, to me, is the meaning of Qadha and Qadar, one of the articles of faith. Things wouldn’t happen for you without effort (seldom at least) and even your best effort might not bring about the desired outcome. It’s all God’s will that you’d do well to accept. And, even in the face of the greatest of setbacks, you need to stay committed to do what you think you should do. One is not truly a Muslim until he is aware that he is dependent upon God in all his pursuits, no matter how trivial.

Now, will this reminder to myself improve my putting? Insha’Allah.