..the new year, same old..

.there is always this thing about new years..it adds a year to your age..you looked at children of yesterdays, and see how adult they have become, leading their own life with their mate and children..and yet, not too long ago they were on your knees, making baby noises...and pakmat will be 67 in 3 months time...if this is progress, than it is..no time for dreams...just a leisurely savouring of regrets...things you should have and should not have done..the roads you should have taken...words that lingered on tongue but not uttered...and words said that should not have been said...everything becomes like a furry ball, rolling along the sand..

...neil diamond echoes in my mind...every girl will be a woman...as with every boy...

.,.happy new year.......

..the routine...

.

..queuing for ice-cream..

...pakmat did not socialise much whilst in the Holy Land...in truth there just wasn't time...for from the time he arrived to the day he left  for the plains of Arafat, he spent most of his time at MasjidilHaram..it was a routine that he try to maintain with his wife... wakes up at 3.00 in the morning, walked the distance to the Grand Mosque,  walked back after Subuh, a quick breakfast, a short rest and by 10.30, a leisurely walk back to Haram for Zohor..

..new arrivals gathering in front of Maktab 93 and 92 for their
 first march towards Haram..

..for Muassasah pilgrims, breakfast was not provided....which was just as well...we used it as an opportunity to try out all those fares available, which could be anything from rice, to bread to pizza...once we even had ice-cream with roti...

...lunch, provided at the Maktab, was not provided at Haram..( I wished the board would go that extra mile and provide distribution point for lunch at Haram,  seeing that the hotel is 2 km away)...and so it was anything goes...but sometimes, feeling strong and daring, we walked back for lunch, braving the noon sun...followed by a short rest before hitting the road for Asar...even though the surau at the hotel looked tempting, we told ourselves, no..we came too far..and we were too near Haram to solat anywhere else..

..pakmat tried fried mee with sardine for breakfast once...yeecch..
..the combination did go too well...

...the daily trek to and back from the maktab to the Grand Mosque made most golden couples into endearing couples...the tendency was to walk side-by-side, to watch out for each other and to even hold hands, awkwardly at first but more relax as they got used to walking together...pakmat mentioned this, because I knew that these couples would never display such intimacy back home in Malaysia...it also made them fit...along with knotty calves...and cracked toes...

..pakmat's cracked toes and heels..a cream, aptly named
Crack, bought at Safa Supermarket was more effective than
those sponsored cream..

...it also made pakmat missed his wife...after 3 weeks pakmat had enough of this 'look but cannot touch' abstinence and queried the board about 'bilik berkat'...it was the same personnel who asked pakmat to solat at the surau....and was quickly told, almost in a rebuff, that the room was heavily book by citizens more senior than pakmat...oh, well...

..the walk back after isyak, a few days before Arafat..

..lunch at Hilton Towers

..but in the beginning, we had the street
almost to ourselves..

..the cycle..

..at fifty-two, my wife's menstrual cycle is anything but regular..even though, generally, it keeps to its lunar cycle, its coming and going is beyond prediction, sometimes after two weeks and sometimes for forty days...she has long given up marking on a wall calender its coming and going...content just to let it runs its  course, used as it is to its unpredictability...and pakmat learns to to adjust his needs likewise, taking his cue from her non-solat days...

..when we took our flight for Jeddah on the 16th of October, her period had just ended two weeks earlier..by any reckoning it should rear its head again  anytime soon or maybe within the next three to four weeks...to my mind, she must have been worried...and to my mind, she must be prepared for all eventualities...

..but unbeknown to me, she has made discreet enquiries about it...listened to 'ceramah' by ustazah's about it..and had made her decision about her course of actions...

..she decided against preventives pills and such....she decided to plead with her Lord....her Maker...

...henceforth her every solat and prayer ends with a doa...that the Lord delays her menstruation...that she may do His Biddings and the haj unhindered...her faith was absolute....the Lord listens.....

...ten days after our return on the 30th of November,  it has still to show signs of coming...no pain in the tits...no hot flushes...and pakmat got worried....sheesh...its a bit late for pakmat to cradle a baby...you sure you are not pregnant?......maybe a urine test would be in order...she laughed it off...and on the 16th it came...and pakmat sigh a sigh of relieve...Praise be unto Allah...

..the death..

..death, when it comes, comes easy in the Holy Land..and to the least expected...

...of course, given the choice one would choose to die here in the Holy Land, like my room mate, Tok Wan, who died on a Friday, 28th October, 2011, 12 days after arrival...but death is not a matter of choice...for when the time comes, it will not be delayed a second  or hastened a second...but, of course, we all pray for that extra time on this earth...that we may make it safely back home after the haj to our family and pets, such as it were...

..the hearse that carried Tokwan and the rest of us to Haram
and later to the burial grounds in Shiraya..

..like pakmat, Tokwan came with his wife..but unlike pakmat, his wife was ailing and generally not in the best of health...Tokwan, jovial and jolly in his own quiet ways,  was hale and hearty when we both checked in room 533, Luat Al-Tawheed, Misfalah District, Mekkah...there were five of us - Pakmin, an Education Officer from Kota Bharu, the youngest and healthiest at 46...he was with his ailing mother, leaving his 7 months pregnant wife at home in Kubang Kerian with their 6 children...Pakhin, 63, soon to be a bed-ridden asthmatic, Pakman, an Imam of a surau in Alor Bakat, Bachok, slow moving but healthy... and pakmat, retiree, the eldest and, without a false sense of modesty, trailing behind Pakmin in health and energy...

..Pakman, who sat at the back, could not make it into Haram..he just
could not keep up with the pace and the guards would not let
him in..we met later at the hotel...

... we learnt to tolerate each other after a few nights and managed to adjust to each of our idiosyncrasies and habits......Pakmin, being knowledgeable on religious matters,quickly became the ustadz, Pakman the imam and pakmat the bilal and, later, the penghulu...Pakhin's asthma worsened and he became a wheezing and coughing, bedridden man soon enough,  while Tokwan became weaker as he gradually lost his desire to eat...

..solat jenazah..brown is the colour for Malaysian's dead..

..after a few visits to the Maktab's clinic where he was given the mask-treatment, Pakhin's condition deteriorated and we forsook the use of the air-conditionaing... but it was Tokwan who was warded...and died after isyak that fateful Friday...Pakmin messaged me the news and upon our returned from Haram, pakmat and Pakmin helped broke the news to his widow...and helped called his children in Malaysia...I called and messaged my children, too...for it could be anyone of us who died that day...

..the lobby of Muhajereen's Mosque..

..upon death all bodies were sent to a Mortal Services Benevolent Mosque where they were prepared for solat jenazah and burial...needless to say, sleep was not an option that night...Pakmin accompanied the widow for a last view of the deceased...by 2.00am, we gathered at the lobby...mission: to collect the body from the Mortal Services Benevolent Mosque and accompany the deceased for solat jenazah at Haram and later for burial...we went by car, a Honda Accord year 2000..the driver, Robik, sped and promptly lost his way...

..Tokwan's final resting place...the grave is a concrete  cubicle  four by six
feet wide and six feet deep..pakmat used a steel ladder to get down...bodies
are not buried...

..it was a few minutes after three, by the time we found it..Al-Muhajereen Mosque Benevolent Free Mortal Services, situated somewhere on the outskirts of Mekkah...along the way and back, pakmat got to see suburban Mekkah, the Holy City...

...as we approached Haram for solat subuh and solat jenazah..

...as we went into its spacious lobby and waiting area, we were promptly asked, 'Wuduk?..' and was shown to the rest area, complete with coffee/tea making facilities and an adjoining toilet for gents where we wuduk'ed, a requirement for all those handling the dead...

..plot 26 of burial grounds, Shiraya, Mekkah..
about 20 km from Haram..

..it was not long before I realised that the three of us, Pakman, Pakmin, and me, together with petite Ustadz Nor from the board, were not strong enough to carry the jenazah of the late Tokwan, an almost 6 footer and weighing more than a hundred kilos, during his time...we struggled as we carried him into the Toyota/hearse...

...minyak boxing..ointment that pakmat used to rub
Tokwan's back before his death..

..I chided the officer of the board for not giving us prior warning...'If you had told me earlier I could have brought along more people'...he ignored my chidings and I could not imagined how were we to carry him into Haram...may the Lord give me the strength, I prayed...but the Lord has His ways of taking care of His guests, as I was to find out later...

..the concrete cubicle/grave was then covered by  concrete
slabs...with the edges filled with grass and sand..

..we approached Haram from the eastern wing, of which I was quite unfamiliar..but as our vehicle approached along with the pilgrims on their way for solat subuh, I gave in to my worries...how were we to carry him?..we were so puny...but as the back door opened, and as we reached out for Tokwan, burly hands from burly fellow pilgrims were there giving a helping hand...they quickly carried Tokwan high above pakmat...and pakmat could only cried out, 'Allah huAkbar..Allah huAkbar..Allah huAkbar..' whilst trying to catch up...hands barely able to hold on to Tokwan...I was unaware of my tears as I followed Tokwan from underneath him...I hardly knew him..and my heart cried out for him....my kin and brother...

....Sheikh AbdurRahman Al Sudais was the imam...not too tall, abit stocky..bearded but with a voice of gold...and that morning I prayed like I have never prayed before...Lord..You who created Death and Life..that You may try us....unto You we shall returned...forgive him, Lord....and forgive me....

..the board..

...I ran aground with the Tabung Haji officials after a week in Mekkah...on their advice, we carried minimal amount of cash, and on their cajoling had deposited whatever little we had into a debit account with Bank Islam...no matter the promises, the system failed to work...it was not tested and it could not debit our account, no matter the atm's...attempts to draw our money from the financial counter of Tabung Haji met with frustration for by the time we got back from Haram after isyak, which could be anything from 8.30pm to 9.00pm the ticketing booth were closed...there were too many people..

..reading the Book in MasjidilHaram..in between solats.

...I approached the officials of the board and told them my problem...

...they suggested we missed Haram and solat at the surau...

...I suggested that they should be more tuned to the Haramers, like me and missus....and why can't the bank adjust its hours so that it closes a bit late...in time for people like me, old timers all, who could not very well do the 2 km within 10 minutes..

...they suggested that I solat at the surau...

..'lady, it took me 9 hours by flight to reach Jeddah...another few hours by bus to get here..with my bottom almost calloused...paid 10,000MR each...if we intend to solat at a surau, we might as well do it in Bachok, where the surau is better than that of of this hotel'....

...I silenced them with my retort, yes...but I did not managed to draw my money, either...the next day, one of my room mates, there were five of us to a room, died...and as I accompanied him to Haram for solat jenazah and later to the grave in Shiraya, it occurred to me how shallow I was...pecuniary concerns is of no concern at all, especially here in the Holy Land...for death awaits all...irregardless....

..forgive me, Lord, for my lack of faith...

..the invitation..

..the haj is the fifth pillar of Islam...and it is the endeavor of every Muslim where ever he is on this little planet to make the journey at least once...once he can afford the journey without any constraints...

...even though for pakmat there were constraints, he had not really tried to get over those constraints with earnest until a few years back...he had used the bankruptcy as an excuse..he slid into complacency and drifted like flotsam in a peaceful sea...without aim or purpose...

..a golden citizen waiting for his bus in Mina..

...instead of  working towards the haj, pakmat has squandered his time and resources on worldly things....
..but the Lord is both Most Compassionate and Most Loving....By His Grace, He gave pakmat extra time, for indeed, at 66 you are living on extra time....

..pakmat made many furry friends whilst in the Holy Land..

..sometimes last year, he found that all roads and alleys led to Mekkah...unbeknown a little flame burning within him became a raging fire...the invitation that came sometimes in the middle of September weakened his knees...thank you, Lord, for this extra time...for, indeed, You gave me longevity that I may repent my sins, and the opportunity of this haj to cleanse my soul....

..the march..

....Luat Al-Tawheed, a 14 storey hotel in Misfalah district, was to be our abode for the duration of the haj...at the briefing held on the morning after our arrival, an official from Tabong Haji told us that, 'It is 1000 meters from MasjidilHaram,' He smiled as he said that and added,'Yes, One kilometer..'

...but later as we marched on our maiden march along Ibrahim Khalil Road to MasjidilHaram for our tawaf umrah, 7 times around the Kaabah and saai, a march between Bukit Sofa and Marwah, I noticed that it took us 25 minutes to reach the Grand Mosque...it was a purposeful march, whilst reciting the talbiah - 'here we are, Lord, at Thy service'..

..the march back after isyak prayers along Ibrahim
Khalil Road..1.92km from this point to the hotel..

...too many minutes for a kilometer, I thought...later, upon checking, I found that it was 1.92km, from the steps of our maktab to Gate 79, MasjidilHaram...it was Alhamdullillah from pakmat and wife...Praise be unto You, Lord., for, indeed, You have prepared us for this...for the past year we have been jogging 2 to 3 kilometers every morning along Pantai Irama Beach...we were more ready than we thought...sometimes when we left the hotel at 3.30 am for our daily brisk walk to Haram, I have but to close my eyes...and I could almost see the beach of Pantai Irama on my right...and the coconut trees on my left...

..street pedlars with their battle cry,'10 rial..10 rial'..

..but on the way back after isyak, the wife saw only the rows of shops that lined the 2 km road to Misfalah...and the street pedlars who lined the street...wisely, she chose to shop early...'Before every one else are here'..and pakmat agreed...wtihin a week, our limited resources ran out..but we had our debit card..or so we thought...

..abdominal reflection..

..I woke up this morning to a distant stomach-ache that crescendo-ed into four visits to the loo..it must have been something I ate yesterday....must be the chicken curry that I bought on the way home from KB...

...sitting on the bowl gave me time to reflect...that for all of the 47 days I was in Mekkah, Medinah and Jeddah, I partook everything that caught my eye and fancy...3 rial cappuccino with 14 rial vegetable pizza at Hilton Towers,  all the nasi that you would care to mention, ice cream on the go and roti's...all the varieties, with grilled chicken, with curry, with halwa and puree, bakso and sup buntut...I gobbled it all up...

..time for pizza..

...yet there was not the slightest queasiness...no abdominal revolt...I remember a prayer I made upon touchdown in Jeddah...that I came as His guest..and I asked not for any special treatment...I will eat what is served and sleep whatever is laid...I thank Thee, Lord, just for being here......

..the flight..

..among my family circles and close friends, I am known for my fear of flying..during my hey days I rather drove to the capital rather than fly...it was a standing joke..and so it was that when it became known pakmat would be making the haj, the incredulous reaction would be, 'What?!..and how is he going to go there?..by boat..?'....and as it sank in, and knowing what I am capable of, "Surely he is not going to drive there?!'...even my ex-wife in KL posed the question to me through her mother...and my daughter in London queried her siblings for confirmation.....hah, I retorted,  ...there is still some gum in this old coot yet...

..my luggage and hers..hardly
40 kilos between us..

..yes.... I am going to fly there like everyone else..for in the haj, when you stepped out of your home to start the journey, you are prepared for all eventualities, including death...and pakmat started with overcoming his fear of flying and his fear of being confined in narrow spaces, claustropohbia..

..the farewell at Sultan Mahmood Airport, Kuala Terengganu..

..much to his surprise, he survived the flight...he went on to enjoy the food served, bantered with the air-stewardess, with the chief steward offering him a prayer mat and a place to pray normally, instead of in the seat... he even peered through the window and took shots with his camera-phone, HTC Aria, which was to be his constant companion in the Holy Land..

..pakmat first view of Jeddah..

...later, I was to learn that I have been prepared for the journey unknowingly to a certain degree...and later, I was to learn that the rest was up to me...Praise be unto You, Lord..for You know what I know not...

.. the surrender..

..friends and well-wishers..with their doa's and tokens..

..nothing really prepared  me for the haj...neither the friends, relatives and well-wishers who came and gave advice and tips...or the weekly Haji courses that I attended from early this year..or the book by Professor Kamil, ' A Haji Travelogue'   a gift from an fb friend, which I carried with me and read whilst on the almost 9 hour plane ride to Jeddah...I have never been there before..and all those places that they mentioned I could but imagined..or googled..

..our first view of the Kaabah..foreground,
back to camera is missus..

..I thought it going to be a cinch..after all, it is just some rituals..physically you have to walk more than usual..but you set the pace..and nothing is coercive..but spiritually, I have much to fear..I am sinner..I have committed great sins..even though I have repented, there was a niggling doubt that my repentance was not enough...I tried to supress this fear of the Lord's retribution...but every so often it surfaced...stories abound of such retributions, and in no small way, it feeds my fear...

..hajjah-to-be, gathering for our first march to MasjidilHaram..

..the fear drove me to wake up on the last quarter of the night, for almost every night, a month before my departure, my wife and me..and most times, Ayam sprawled somewhere near....we stood together, with 9 rakaats, facing Him...

..'Lord, Most Loving and Most Compassionate...we seek your Forgiveness...for we have sinned..committed evil deeds...we paid scant heed to your Messenger, Muhammad s.a.w...and we put aside your Words'...we bared our souls...emptied that we had hidden within our chests....those that we camouflaged within our minds...we beseech your forgiveness, Lord....

..looking back, I did not know when it happened..but sometimes before our departure, Ayam snuggled my ankles and I realised that the fear was gone..in its place was acceptance...and a peaceful surrender to God's Will...

La illa hailla anta subha nakainni kun tuminna zalimin..

..None has the right to be worshipped but you, O Glorious One, truly 

I have been of the WrongDoers...