Bensalem Himmich - A Muslim Suicide

At the beginning of the month Dhu al-Hijja I made my way to Qurayn, the place where the pilgrimage to Mecca actually starts. In a religious hostel there I handed over my belongings (including my money-purse) to the shaykh. As the sun was rising I went to have a rest and dozed off for a while. Then I got up, washed, and performed the ritual ablutions. My intention was to perform an informal pilgrimage for my own enjoyment. So I donned the ihram garments and, immediately following the evening prayer, attached myself to a caravan of pilgrims whom I joined in salutations and prayers to God till we reached Mecca the illustrious at dawn. I immediately joined other pilgrims in the Abrahamic Shrine of the Ka`ba and performed the first part of the minor pilgrimage except for touching the black stone itself, which proved impossible because there were so many people clustered around it. I made do with offering a greeting. What I must also note is that women performing the circumambulation kept brushing past my hand as I headed toward the Zamzam* well. They all kept touching and kissing them, and one of them was bitterly complaining: "We poor unfortunate women cannot possibly get to the black stone, so our only consolation is in stroking the hands of someone who has managed to touch it." To complete my own minor pilgrimage, I drank some of the water from the Zamzam well and ran between Safa and Marwa as I paid my respects to the Ka`ba's black stone. I then had my hair cut, prayed the sunset prayer with the gathered crowd and the evening prayer with the Hanafi* group. Finally I made my way back to my residence in Qurayn, where I took off my ihram cloth and washed in preparation for prayers and then sleep.

Next day I moved to a place near the Ka`ba itself. Guided by the instructions that Al-Shushtari had provided for me, I went out of the Gate of Abraham to the residence of a renowned jurist from Meknes. Before his death he had served as the imam for the Maliki sect inside the sacred enclosure. I told the warden of the residence about my need for a quiet house for a time period that could well be a long one. I made sure to tell him who I was and to mention the name of the person who had sent me there.

No sooner had he heard the name Al-Shushtari than he got all excited. "A friend of my master and beloved friend Al-Shushtari," he exclaimed. "I'm at your service! If you wish, I can offer you the quietest room in my own house."

With profuse thanks I took my meager baggage and followed him to a tworoom house: one on the ground floor that was dark and somewhat damp, and another above it with a roof on top. To the east you could see the Gate of Abraham (peace be upon him!) and the well that carries his name; to the west, an elegantly designed minaret. The warden enumerated for me the house's benefits in both cold and hot weather. "Only the most exalted folk ever stay here," he told me. I asked him how much the rent would be. "Only what you can afford," he replied as he left. "The servant can bring anything you need."

My inner self was delighted by this room; that I had managed to locate it so easily was clearly a good sign. Now that the fog inside me had somewhat dissipated, I decided to consider my current and future state. However, for someone in my position, such contemplation, however long and penetrating it might be, could never hope to find a solution to a multi-faceted problem or identify a way of opening doors with no keys. Thus it was utterly unrealistic to indulge in any deep thinking. My best plan was to make use of the current situation in order to bolster my spirits and improve my potential.

The muezzin announced the noon prayer, and I performed it on my own in the lower room. Once I had finished, I noticed that there was a black man, solidly built and immensely tall, standing behind the door carrying a tray of food. I invited him in. He put the tray down on my table and told me that his master, Yasir from Yemen, had told him to serve me and take care of my needs. After thanking him, I asked him what his name was. He told me it was Ghaylan, and he was from the Sudan. With that he said his farewells and departed.

On the tray in front of me was a selection of local food that looked really nice and certainly stimulated my appetite. Invoking God's name, I tasted a bit of it, then ate as much as my stomach could handle. Once I had had my fill, I spread out my various belongings in the two rooms and devoted some time to washing and brushing my teeth.

Just before the afternoon prayer time I went out to perform the prayer in the sacred mosque with the Hanafi group right opposite the holy waterspout. As soon as that was over, I headed for a small mosque nearby to watch the flowing crowds all around me and the nonstop flood of people doing the circumambulation. I heard the sound of the muezzin at the Zamzam shrine raising his voice in a fervent prayer for some foreign potentate who, accompanied by his entourage, was performing the circumambulation. No sooner had he finished his task than I noticed a huge crowd of pilgrims spilling out of the Gate of Abraham. I was told that they were non-Arabic speakers who were crowding into the sacred enclosure through the other gates as well. They were all rushing toward the blessed waterspout, and the pushing and shoving rose to levels the like of which I have never witnessed in my life. A number of them fell to the ground, either badly hurt, dying of suffocation, or being trampled. Afraid to move, I stayed where I was, right next to the wall, but then I suddenly spotted the head of a young girl screaming beneath the pile of rigid, expiring bodies. Rolling up my sleeve, I plunged into the fray, grabbed her by the hands, and started pulling her out as though she were some poor animal ensnared in the fangs of a ravenous beast. Once I had her on her feet, I noticed that she had fainted, so I carried her to the closest rescue station, fully intending to hand her over to the doctor and his orderlies. However, I soon discovered that the place was absolutely teeming with the sick and wounded, all of them waiting for help along with their relatives. Any idea of pushing my way through to the actual diagnosis point was out of the question, so, when someone who looked like a manager came up behind me, I asked him to help me with this girl who was in imminent danger of dying. He responded in a gruff and surly tone that her condition was no worse than the majority of people who were waiting. With that, he disappeared without offering me any assistance. I now laid her out on a bench and immediately noticed that her pulse was getting weaker and her breathing was slowing down. I was afraid that she was close to death, so I started rubbing the edge of her heart and pumping it hard. I then put my mouth over hers, started pushing breath into her, and kept doing it until I detected a small flutter of movement, then breathing, and finally a return to consciousness. Some nosy people had been watching what I was doing. When they saw that it had worked, they launched into paeans of praise to God and told me that, with God's good graces, I had restored the girl to life. They assumed that she was my daughter, especially since they had seen her clinging to my arms and clothing. I now picked her up again and carried her back to my residence. I informed the warden what had happened to the girl (although she had yet to utter a word) and asked him to feed her and try to find out her name and general identity. Expressing his admiration for what I had done, he promised to do what he could. Then, with assistance from my servant, Ghaylan, he relieved me of all involvement with the girl. I now retired to my quarters to recover my breath and relax so that I could make a record of what had happened on this remarkable and frenzied day.

Next day at lunchtime the warden informed me that he had found out from the pilgrimage groups that she was from Khurasan and had now managed to restore the girl to her father and aunt. Her mother had died of suffocation in yesterday's mob scene. He told me that tragedies such as this happened every year during the pilgrimage season, something that caused us both to seek refuge in God Almighty from such calamities. I then told him that it was my intention to perform the pilgrimage rituals alone the next day at noontime. With great emotion he prayed that my pilgrimage would be blessed, fruitful, and well received by God. He proposed to me that Ghaylan, who was eager to perform the pilgrimage as well, should go with me, an idea that I accepted with great pleasure. After a moment's thought I then broached the topic of the money-belt full of gold coins around my waist, and he told me that I could either leave it perfectly safely in my room or else give it to him to look after. Without a moment's hesitation I handed them over to him, in compensation for which I gave him a purse full of cash to be used for expenses and charitable purposes. Before going upstairs to my quarters, I asked him if there was any news of our beloved friend Al-Shushtari, and he replied that the only information he had had come in the form of a dream, to the effect that all was well.