There is a reference in the Quran about the two qiblahs. The gist of the story was the historical move of the qiblah, direction of prayer, from al-Quds, Jerusalem, to the Kaabah in Makkah. They even built a mosque that has the name Dhul-qiblatayn, the “two directions of prayer” mosque. Anyway, this comes to mind as I sit between two Iranian women on my right (who talk a lot to complain about some of the shenanigans I will describe below), and an Arab woman on my left. When things get tough, I just go to English. Like these women who talk to all and sundry in Farsi, chances are just as good for any one language as for any other in this context.
Most mornings until now, my roommate and I would awaken at 3:00 a.m. to get to the mosque for the prayer before the morning prayer tahajuud. Our first morning we had our encounter with the guardians of the “this sacred space is too sacred for you women, so give it up to the men.” We ended in the basement, because my roommate doesn’t like conflict, even with a good cause. We had a nice groove going there, but she made a rift in our united efforts. What I mean is, the other women by sign language agreed with me to keep our space. At first they were going to lift up their prayer rugs when shifted by the security guards, but then I gave them the eye and also told the guard in Arabic, “We’re a group (of ladies) here.” Why should we move?
To understand how this works, try to remember we are dealing in numbers of devotees so far from manageable that it almost takes an act of violence to keep a modicum of safety, let alone decorum, or arbitrary gender rules. The best description perhaps would be the necessary attempts to keep at least a certain amount of space for the pathways. These have long green mats to indicate where they are.
We went for a zuhr prayer with the intent to stay only on the outer court. We were always thinking ahead and planning in such a way as to avoid undo crowding (with my tolerance slightly greater than the roommate’s), minimal or no sun, and for avoiding anything that might be construed as unacceptable, like the politics of the first floor. This mostly meant that we would proceed forward for a prayer, well ahead of the prayer. The concept of well ahead is NOT constant or fixed, because as more and more people come into Makkah, well enough ahead meant greater and greater lengths of time preceding the actual prayer.
We found a nice enough spot next to a women’s cluster (read “no decorum or gender politics breach”) which was the last possible spot inside, but right next to the green pathway rubber rugs. Great. Before long, as more people continued to pour in, this was not enough, so they started to fill over the green rug. The guards tried to move such usurpers along, especially by saying, in Arabic, “This is the pathway.”
Now, as the guards did their thing, there is an announcement over the intercom in several languages sequentially, speaking to the hajjis about keeping the passageways clear. But sheer force of numbers will corrode these rules and eventually enough people had started to fill in the row next to us, until it was eight people deep and the pathway was a mere two people wide — and still more people pouring in.
Now, this morning we changed our plans, we prayed the morning prayer on the streets down from our hotel so we could get breakfast as early as it was available at 7:00. Then we packed for a sit in at the mosque on our new favorite spot, just in front of the sa’iy on the third floor. At the latest it was 8:00 a.m. The prayer begins at 12:00. What do you think, were we too early, or just in time?
By two hours before the prayers, the chaos started and people began to jostle for nonexistent space. One guy who sat behind me actually had his feet pointing sideways away from the qiblah. Eventually he even faced to the back, because there really was no space for him to actually fit in, but he would not leave. The Iranian woman next to me finally gave up talking in Farsi and resorted to sign language. We share a laugh at the fellow behind me when he finally turned his back to the qiblah. This is where the idea of qiblatayn popped into my head.
This is where one of my tests started as well.
For one thing, my roommate chose this moment to sever our united front and settled herself and prayer rug elsewhere. So I was alone (with a few million people that is). The Arab woman who had been sleeping when I put my prayer rug next to her and her sleeping husband was pushed more and more to my side as her husband was pushed from his side. I tried to simply stay my ground but it was no use. She sat on my thigh or just continued to bear down. By the time the prayer had ended she was right in the middle of my prayer rug and I was praying in the space in between my rug and the Iranian woman’s rug to my right. So I said, in Arabic “You are in the middle of my prayer rug, so I hope you are happy.”
Each person needs the minimum space to stand, bow, and then prostrate before sitting back. The easiest marker would be our own prayer rugs. But people ignore these, or had none of their own, so they just pretended any vacant white spot of marble on the floor was enough for them to prostrate, even if it was really where the person already there needed to put his or her head.
I don’t really know what happened, but I intentionally started a gender cluster next to a woman —the Arab woman on my left — by putting my prayer rug down when there was LOTS of space. Technically, at any other time, I would have considered this a male cluster, but she was sleeping there next to her sleeping husband, and I thought when my roommate comes we can expand from her to the right with women. As I said, my roommate began her independent journey here. Anyway with the two Iranian ladies our cluster was in progress. But, at some point, people did what they do and by the clock it was 10:30. So maybe the plan was about as good as it could get for the auspicious occasion of jumu’ah prayers.
Now someone had asked me would I lead the salah in Makkah? Let me say something about the imams. I had this idea that each Muslim country should have an opportunity during the sacred months to lead the prayers at the Haram. In fact, not just the imams, but the muadhan, the one who calls to prayer, should reflect our great diversity. Well, guess what? That is what is happening. I can hear the difference between the different recitations — and especially sweet was the call to prayer by one of the muadhan. I could swear it was a Turk. But one of the ladies on the tour group said they have like a long line of local guys waiting, so I could be wrong.
Anyway, no, I did not come too early, and yes, it was all worth it!! The imam gave a short and very powerful khutbah about the hajj and his voice cracked near tears twice, I almost cried myself. But from the joy of being able to say I prayed jumu’ah in masjid al-Haram, the Friday before hajj.
