Yesterday I sat for three hours waiting to get my meningitis shot. That and the flu vaccination I got later at the supermarket are required by the Saudi government before the visa application. It was one of the most exciting moments since I connected with the particular tour company to organize my trip for hajj! Why was I so excited? Maybe having a needle or two stuck in the arm made the proposal for this once-in-a-lifetime trip more of a reality. Surely, it could not be anything more sadistic.
Actually, I became excited after I got a phone call from the agency that I chose. Turns out, this first full business day after Ramadan was also the day that they clarified for me all the upcoming deadlines. In the next week (that is, by or before September 20), all my pre-travel preparations need to be complete. It all feels rather last-minute to me. But then, maybe that’s the way it goes. No, if I had my way I would call this entry: how not to choose a tour company. Really. The choice of the company I am working this out with is the result of one of those eeny-meeny-miny-mo Internet searches. It’s a business, after all, this: getting people to and from hajj. A simple Google search produces lots of choices. But then, how does one decide?
Let’s start at the beginning.
I first made my intentions to make the hajj while I was still in Indonesia, the most populous Muslim country in the world. My friends were incredulous. They have to put in a request at least two years in advance because there are more applicants than their quota allows. Most Muslim countries have a quota; a limited number of hajjis permitted from that country in any one year. This number is set by hajj authorities in Saudi Arabia, because, in all fairness, there has to be a cap on how many Muslims converge on the place. Right now, it stands at around 3 million!
Countries with large populations of Muslims have many more applicants than their allotted number of pilgrims. This means you have to put in your request well in advance, two maybe three years. I first tried to go on hajj from Egypt (in 1981-2) because the total airfare was like 250 US dollars. I had my air ticket before I applied for a visa locally. In the end, the quota prevented me from going, despite the “reasons” given.
We don’t have a quota in the United States. So when I first went online to get general information (earlier this year while still in Indonesia listening to my friends’ incredulity), none of the US companies even had their 2010 hajj packages online yet. There was no rush, from their perspective. We are not up against large numbers of people trying to make it—like in Egypt, Indonesia, or Iran.
As it happened, not long after I had settled back in the U.S., I came across an ad from a colleague offering a special hajj package, at 30% more than the other companies. When I sent this offer to the friend who was also planning to make hajj, she decided she could not afford to go this year. I thought about going with someone I knew as a way to get over so many unknowns. When the cost was prohibitive, I started asking friends, and friends of friends.
By far, I think this is the best thing to do if you are like me: totally disconnected with hajj and umrah travel possibilities. I was so glad I did, because I got what sounded like the best thing I could imagine to overcome all these unknowns: a hajj guide recommended highly by a friend with details that suited my personality. Things like: we went here first and there last, because it limits the lines and confusion; we sat here at this time to do this, this way; and were offered this, here, with these accommodations; working this and avoiding that, and no hassles here. Great.
But then it turned out the hajj guide was not going this year, after going for more than 14 years, because of medical concerns in his family. I was left with the “tell the tour company you know so and so, who knows so and so, who was the guide”…and suddenly I felt like eeny-meeny-miny-mo again. So I went back online.
As it turned out, just to get information on a package that sounded interesting to me (one called “40 prayers”), I had to make a commitment to send a two-thousand dollar refundable deposit. I did, and so the counter-commitment began. So I start with my questions: knowing the Saudi restrictions that women cannot travel without a mahram, I asked if there would be a problem for me. I get an answer that borders on a fiqh explanation about mahram “in Islam.” I thought, well now, that’s an interesting way to respond to a visa question.
However, for me they are just way too slow or to inconsistent with information. They did not respond to an offer I made at the beginning of Ramadan to pay the remaining balance due on my account and then, while I was away from home, they sent a request for the money; when I said I was actually unable to do it from where I was, they sent an ultimatum. I didn’t pay according to that ultimatum (which would be so contrary to my personality), but I did point out to them that I would have been paid up if they had responded to my offer three weeks before, and sent a copy of that email. They gave me a new deadline, and that is the one for next week.
I simply would not recommend them for anyone who needs to have details spelled out the way I do. I need a calendar of “things to do before making hajj,” with deadlines set well in advance so I can work my way toward them in accordance with my real-life constraints and possibilities. Otherwise I don’t adjust very well. Maybe people like to have ultimatums in order to respond, but it doesn’t work that way for me. One thing they did clarify ahead of time: if I want to sacrifice an animal on the day of the sacrifice, I have to pay for that in Saudi Arabia. Oddly enough, they did not make this optional as I know it is.
Just for your information: the total package will cost around seven thousand dollars. This includes airfare, four-star hotel accommodations (four persons per room—you pay more to be alone, or with only one other), two daily meals, buffet style (with enough choices even my vegetarian friend said it was more than enough), all land transportation, and a bunch of fees (related to the rituals at various places, like an air conditioned tent at Arafat). That’s why it is a once-in-a-lifetime thing for me.
I know people who can spend that amount for more than once a lifetime, or who have gone more than once. I had a friend (not Saudi herself, but married to a Saudi), who, when she learned late one year that the day of Arafat would be on a Friday, which is supposed to have added blessing, she decided in less than a month’s time that she would go. That works for her. For me, I like this specialness of the “first time.” I’m also quite happy if it is the only time.
Who knows, maybe I will go again—but if I do, I would know better what to avoid in terms of choosing a company. Right now, I cannot seem to get them to answer my next question regarding the visa application so I can go ahead and send it to them with my immunization records. But now, I’m taking it as part of the process: part of the uncertainty of life in general and of making hajj for the first time.
It was strange though that when I got that call yesterday the woman referred to me as “Dr. Wadud.” I’m not sure how I went from an anonymous person with the name Amina Wadud to my professional specification, but I will take that as a good sign for now.
