Thursday, June 19, 2008

The Prophet's City, Part II

The oasis slowly appears and you are in Medina without even realizing it. White square dwellings increase on the way, blending with the earth; a welcome sight to the kids who are tired of being in the car.


"Medina!"




Underwhelmed and yet full of wonder at a city that appears too small for its colossal significance as the springboard which allowed the faith to launch over vast territories for the past 1400 years. Nothing to allude to that here as the date trees which fill rocky roadsides thicken and the city itself humbly rises up from the dust.


This is the place where an illiterate man, arriving on a camel with little more than the clothing on his back and a loyal companion by his side, would come to transform its inhabitants into the vanguard of a faith that is now followed by over one billion people around the world and which helped humanity reach lofty heights in the sciences, mathematics, literature, poetry and the arts.

And the atmosphere
is one of
total,
utter
humility and peace.

It is like visiting a host who is shy that you should see the richness surrounding him and yet who is naturally gracious, sharing the blessings in sincere gratefulness to his Benefactor.



* * *

"Tal'aa al badru Allayna. . . ." sang the jubilant inhabitants of Yathrib as they greeted him that day [Friday, 12 Rabi' Al Awwal; 24 September, 622 CE ] on the outskirts of the city as they emerged for the first time.

"Oh the white moon has risen over us...."


Saturday, June 14, 2008

To Medina, part 1

The long highway to Medina is as barren as the desert one imagines when one thinks of 'Arabia'. But instead of sand dunes stretching out, mile upon steamy mile, it is a rocky, spotty land, littered with abandoned shacks and service stations, sometimes surrounded by the sudden swirl of dusty grains.




From Jeddah to Medina, about 400 kilometres of this monotonous sight stretch forth, and yet, somehow, the way seems light, and the car traverses it quickly, passing few others on the way. It is a stark contrast from the brightly-lit road to Mecca, about 100 km away from the seaport we've been calling home.

"O my people! Lo! this life of the world is but a passing enjoyment, and lo! the Hereafter, that is the enduring abode." [Quran, Chapter 40, verse 39]

Despite all there is to see on the road to Mecca - the coffee stops that mark almost every 20 minutes that have gone by and which beckon wary/weary drivers; the myriad of colourful fairs that remain inactive only because school has yet to let out; the mosques filling and emptying of men clad in white with checkered head pieces, wives invisible within the black shadows of shiny cars - it seems as though the actual city takes long to appear, longer than the moment when Medina's lush oasis absorbs us into the soil, so that once you have planted your feet into it, it is as though you have laid down roots you despair of severing.

"Remember the story about Prophet Muhammad?" I ask my eldest daughter who is snugly nestled among books and pillows in the back seat. She smiles and nods. "Allayhi al salam. Remember when I told you about how he and Abu Bakr had to escape from Mecca and traveled to Medina - on the way having to hide in a cave?"

"And the soldiers were going to get him?" she asks, her voice rising a notch.

Safeyyah starts talking to herself from her spot on the wide, faux-leather couch. "Muha-nna-mmed ," she lisps as she tries to pronounce the name of the final messenger. "Allahii wa sallem," she smiles at us, happy to partake in the conversation.

"Yes, and they were in the cave and the soldiers were just about to go in, when Abu Bakr said . . ."

‘O Messenger of God! If any of them looked beneath his feet he would certainly see us!’ Whereupon the Messenger of God (may God bless him and grant him peace) said, ‘O Abu Bakr, what do you think of two [where] God is their third?’



"It was here, in this land that all of that happened," I tell her as we peer out into the vast rock and shrubbery, framed by mountains stereotypically majestic, and yet so much more: forbidding, comforting, stern, watchful.

"Really?" she asks, holding on to her door. She squints in a morning sun that is strengthened with every passing moment, while we watch the road: free of distraction, full of remembrance. It here where the Islamic calendar - the one she has recently learned by heart - began.



. . .'Be not sad (or afraid), surely Allah is with us.' (Quran, Chapter 9, verse 40)

Monday, June 9, 2008

Starting over

Bismillah Al Rahman Al Rahim,
In the name of God, Most Merciful, Most Kind.

Perhaps it was too passionate, too sudden, too reactionary, but with a click of a button, I erased the record of feelings I wish I hadn't had.

I don't think that everything I'd written here was wrong; many of my observations about life in Saudi were simply that: observations of a person who had been transplanted into a new world that looked very different from her own.


But as I got to know this place, a little bit more with every anticipated outing, I realized that I had missed a chance to greet this society with open arms - to really learn about its nuances, to hear the guttural voices with an open mind, to appreciate a world that isn't all that different, but with so much to offer, though it doesn't realize it.

At the same time, a different sort of awakening took over - one which can no doubt be argued & debated, but one which nevertheless is washing over me, gradually, as simply and gently as the water laps at Jeddah's shores - the focus of my life must be my children. Perhaps it seems natural to assume so, but when I started to prepare for this trip, I lost sight of why were were coming here in the first place --- to raise our children in a Muslim country, with greater chances of learning their religion and its language.


Instead, my husband & I got caught up with thoughts of career - his, concrete and disillusioned once he arrived, mine, little more than daydreams of a job I had long ago abandoned but which I thought to start up from a place so few people knew about, and which I believed many would want to know about.

And so began our downward/upward spiral.

My apologies for the few dedicated friends who read this blog. I feel disappointment, too, at the loss of thought that had been saved on these pages in cyberspace. But for me, it was a lesson, a chance to correct my intention - for the blog, for this trip, for my life.

I hope to make up for lost ground. However, the person who now shares her observations with you, is a little bit wiser, a little bit humbled, and a little bit weary of labeling the people and places around her quickly, arrogantly and without delving deeper.

"Travel enriches the every day experiences, and I am enriched every day."

So here's to beginning a new page in a new book. Again, I invite you to join me and promise that I shan't disappear again, God willing.