A traverse through Mecca and Medina
First I got myself a GSM SIM card, took a bath and went into Ihram (a sacred state which a Muslim must enter in order to perform the major pilgrimage [Hajj] or the minor pilgrimage [Umrah]. I then telephoned a resident travel agent that would arrange my transportation and accommodation facilities. Hours later, I was […]
First I got myself a GSM SIM card, took a bath and went into Ihram (a sacred state which a Muslim must enter in order to perform the major pilgrimage [Hajj] or the minor pilgrimage [Umrah]. I then telephoned a resident travel agent that would arrange my transportation and accommodation facilities. Hours later, I was directed to meet a representative of the agency within the airport and he instructed that a car should take me to Makkah. For a first-timer, the road to Makkah from Jeddah was seemingly endless, perhaps because of the jetlag; I fell in and out of this liminal zone between wakefulness and sleep as the driver raced over the road as if he were in a racing contest. At first the speed scared me. Unlike in Nigeria, they had near-perfect roads, and the condition of the vehicles was such that even an overcautious driver cannot but take advantage.
At last we came to Makkah. Located in an arid valley surrounded by rocky hills, it is a city that for long has had religious and commercial significance spanning into centuries. Officially named ‘Makkah Al Mukarramah’, meaning ‘the Sacred Makkah’, it is no doubt spectacular! As I passed by the Masjid Al Haram (the Holy Mosque), I became excited and thankful to Allah for this terrific experience of journeying into the birthplace of Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him).
As I secured a room in the hotel, it was already time for the dawn prayer and managed with a little difficulty to take a short walk to the Masjid, for salat and to fulfil Umrah obligations.
Whenever I would had any reason to speak with a shopkeeper, laundryman, grocer, taxi driver, or anyone of that sort, the first question I was asked was: ‘Are you a Nigerian?’ At first, never knowing what was in these inquisitive minds, I was at a quandary about how to answer the question. If I was to answer in the affirmative, what did it mean to the person asking the question? Or if my answer were to be otherwise, how hollow would my words sound even to myself for being disloyal so to denounce my true identity? But after seeing the facial expression that my answer evoked, it appeared to me that being a Nigerian commanded a feeling of admiration and deference. For many, the response was ‘Masha-Allah!’ or ‘Nigeria good!’ followed by a ‘thumbs up’ which visibly symbolised approval and acceptance.
It was probably this identity that made it easy for me to strike friendship with people of different nationalities. These include my hotel manager, Abdallah, with whom I conversed a lot. He would tell me about his native town of Khartoum, situated just south of the confluence of the Blue Nile and White Nile, how he had worked for more than a decade moving between the mouth of the Bou Regreg in Rabat, and Dar el-Beida, the famous city of
Casablanca, Morocco. On other occasions, he narrated the stories of his travels to Alexandria, Cairo, Dubai, etc. Sometimes he showed enthusiastic and excited desire to visit Nigeria, discussing the his Nigerian friends who always invited him. However, when the discussion was turned to Africa, at the extremity of his utterances came the jokingly uttered phrase: ‘Africa too much trouble!’
On certain occasions I visited a famous hospital in Jeddah; each time I would pay a capricious and sometimes fickle amount of Saudi Riyals as transport fare from Makkah. The taxi operators remembered to ask if I had my passport in case of security checks; this was to curb the nuisance of illegal immigrants, a greater number of whom claim Nigerian or Nigerien citizenry when apprehended. Occasionally, I found it especially difficult to exchange information with most of the taxi drivers who understood very little if any English.
I was once rescued by a man sitting next to me in a cab whose English was also smattering but averagely unambiguous. He was moving with his wife and two children to find a new job in another part of the Kingdom, because his appointment with the Ministry of Health in Madinah was recently terminated when the government ordered that older employees be fired for some reasons. When I asked of his nationality, he told me he came all the way from Bangladesh, and was at that moment taking his two children back to the boarding school they attended in Jeddah, which was established with the help of the Bangladeshi consulate so that parents like him could send their wards there. After he had asked about Nigeria, the salary worth (in Saudi Riyals) of say a freshly graduated medical doctor, the natural resources abound, he became more interested in my country. Before parting ways, I told him of the little stories of Bangladesh as narrated by my former professor Mohammed Rafiqul Islam, who was also a Bangladeshi, and had spent more than two decades teaching and researching in Geology at the University of Maiduguri.
Hospitals in the Kingdom are no doubt unequalled in quality by their counterparts in many developing countries of the world, especially of sub-Saharan Africa. The excellent, health care system operated there brooks no comparison with what we have in Nigeria. Some of these hospitals look more appealing in appearance and comfortable for both patients and visitors, than most of the palatial, often luxurious mansions occupied by our so-called elites here in Nigeria. A typical Nigerian used to the disorderly, despicably filthy and morally objectionable conditions of our hospitals must wonder with great awe whether he is in a hospital or some sort of grandiloquent home. The staff carried out their duties with purposeful efficiency. The doctors have thorough knowledge and experience while showing refinement in their attitudes. While most cases are brought to the hospitals, other circumstances of indisposition are dealt with in polyclinics, which are smaller but independent hospitals where illnesses that are low in severity can be treated.
The road to Madinah was, to be candid, free from faults and potholes. Ali Abu Ahmed, the taxi driver, stopped to fill his Toyota tank at the filling station with the paltry sum of exactly 10 Saudi Riyals before we left. He emotionally entreated that I let him visit his house to take his travel bag, since he might not likely be coming back to Makkah that same day. On the way, we pulled over at one of the many filling stations to observe the asr (afternoon) prayer. Most, if not all, filling stations had a fully air-conditioned mosque, ablution facilities, outdoor toilets and bathrooms with continual flow of water from the taps and showers. There are also road-side facilities such as fast-food eateries where you can get a diet of burgers and fries in addition to other delicacies.
It was exactly three hours and some minutes after leaving the Blessed City that we arrived in Madinah. Just then, I remembered to call a representative of the travel agency to direct me to the hotel I was to stay, which was in the central area of the city, and a stone’s throw away from the Masjid Al Nabawi (the Prophet’s Mosque).
The following day, a young man named Umar accepted to take me round the city for a few Riyals. We visited the scene of the battle of Uhud, at the footsteps of Mount Uhud, where Hamza, the uncle of the Prophet and many other slain companions of the battle were laid to rest; the Masjid Al Qiblatayn, Masjid Al Quba, etc. After every salat (prayer) in Madinah, I usually followed through the door by the grave of the Prophet. During my extended stay in Makkah, I visited a few notable places; along the road to Mount Arafat, I passed by the personal residence of the famous Sheikh Abdul Rahman Al Sudais, and the campus of Umm Al Qura University.
On the last day of my stay, during the farewell circumambulation of the Ka’aba, I ran across Nuhu Ribadu, the Nigerian lawyer, retired policeman, and former anti-corruption czar. We greeted in Fulfulde, and had some gracious conversation. After I introduced myself, I found him humbly polite, tactful, cultured and thoughtful. The following morning, I quickly left Makkah for the airport. Momentarily, it felt nice being back in the good old Nigeria with a pictorial language that conjures up the vivid images of the land of the Holy Prophet Muhammad.
Aminu writes from 10, Lekko Drive, Dougirei South, Yola