Being Challenged

My feet are extremely sore, so that walking is difficult, the crowds in Makkah are irrationally large and behave in seemingly irrational ways, and completing the umrah rites is not simple by any means, especially wearing the ihram, which I haven't got used to at all. Yet I'm having a wonderful time, and all the above constitutes room for celebration. As al Ghazzali (my current reading, and a wise old bird if ever there was one) might have put it if he'd been rather less articulate than he actually is: in the challenge lies the whole point, as this is what makes us grow - in this case, growing in patience.

First the feet, appropriately since as Beckett so shrewdly shows us through poor Estragon in Godot, they are the much neglected, often ignored, basis of everything. Mine do not adjust well to dry, colder climates. Now it's not exactly cold here - in fact the temperature is wonderfully temperate at the moment - but it's colder than Singapore, and drier, and that's all that's needed to make my heels and toes crack. Add to that the bare-foot walking, sometimes jogging, on marble floors that's often required here, and the damage caused by the chafing of the straps on some new flip-flops I've been using, and you have a recipe for a painful, blistered mess, which is what my feet have become.

The crowds are extraordinary, much worse than those in Medinah. Frequently, around prayer-times, there are lots of folk trying to get into the masjid as lots of folk are trying to get out, and lots of other folk are sitting down and praying, eating, chatting, reading the Qur'an in the middle of them all. Initially I could see no logic whatsoever to all the movement but I'm gradually getting some sense of what's going on.

When performing the umrah rites the crowds involved also present their fair share of problems. I was initially puzzled when circling the Kaaba as to why there were so many people going in odd directions, sometimes seemingly against the flow. Now I've come to realise that they need to move away from the circumambulating themselves and have their problems staying together. But, as I mentioned above, it's the wearing of the ihram, the two pieces of unsewn cloth required to be worn by all male pilgrims that has really stretched me. The bottom piece isn't too bad as you are allowed to use a belt to secure it. But the top piece has a nasty habit, with me anyway, of deciding to come loose and fall away at the most inopportune moments. Some guys manage to wear ihram with real style and dignity: I am not one of them.

The great thing about ihram, well one of them, is the way it makes clear that all pilgrims are equal in their status, so it's more than worth the inconvenience involved. And you get a tremendous sense of belonging to a tradition of pilgrimage that stretches back centuries. And that's the thing about all the problems: they point the individual to a greater understanding of self - and humanity in general. Bad feet teach you how vulnerable you are; the crowds help you understand the plight of the weak and vulnerable - the elderly, the infirm, the children; the ihram reduces you to your less-than-wonderful essence.

And think of this: we are enjoying the comfort of a five star hotel and easy travel to and from these far places. In the past pilgrims risked their lives to do what we can do so easily. It makes me feel very small, for which I'm very grateful.