Trials and tribulations

Despite the H1N1 warnings around this year's Haj, many of my friends and family are now getting ready to depart on a journey that will see them spiritually return very different from how they left. It's going to take a lot more than flu to stop most from going on their once-in-a-lifetime obligatory pilgrimage to Makkah. In fact, getting the Haj flu is part of the deal. You almost feel cheated when you return home with no flu as your official stamp of approval.

It's always around this time of year when flashbacks of my Haj voyages return. Being a two-time veteran of the Haj, I am very familiar with what must be going on in the minds and hearts of the soon-to-be pilgrims. Of all my Haj memories, one will always stand out amongst the rest.

The stoning of the devil is one of the trials and triumphs of the Prophet Abraham, in which he successfully fought off the devil. Pilgrims re-enact the story by casting seven pebbles at a series of pillars. Of all the activities during Haj, this is statistically the place where most injuries occur. The pushing and shoving during the stoning ritual, due to the pilgrims' revved-up emotions, is truly a sight to see.

When I first saw it I was instantly reminded of my public school canteen, which comprised a small air-conditioned box by the playground. Kids would push and shove their way to the shopkeeper like he was some sort of rock star. Getting a bag of crisps at my school was not an easy operation. Little did I know that my hard-earned canteen training would come in handy for the Haj.

To make matters more challenging for me, my first Haj had me accompanying my mother and two aunts. First, I went into the crowd alone, and with a great deal of bobbing and weaving, which would have impressed any boxing coach, I managed to avoid all the raised elbows and get the job done. I then went back and escorted my mum through the same process. My aunts came at a 50 per cent discount, as one of them fainted at the sight of the mobbed crowd.

As my second aunt and I were on our way out of the stoning area, we got caught up in waves of pushing and shoving that literally had me off my feet. I could feel my left flip flop being pulled off my foot (you can't wear leather sandals during part of the Haj). As my feet found the ground I felt a very sharp pain. As we emerged from the crowd I discovered the world's most rusted nail pierced into the soul of my foot. The paramedics, conveniently located around the corner, were quick to administer a tetanus shot.

Five years on, I returned to the Haj, and having done it all before I walked among my fellow pilgrims with a confident spring in my feet. When it came to the stoning the second time around, I was delighted to see the Saudi Government had wisely transformed the stoning pillar into a 15-metre-wide wall with three levels. From the ground level, the sound of the pebbles raining against the wall echoed through the air. I could almost hear the wall begging for mercy.

As I stood in front of the wall the memory of that rusted nail came flashing back. I don't know whether it was my thoughts that made it happen or if it was just a freak accident, but somehow I ended up in the middle of another human wave of pushing and shoving. Again my feet were airborne and yet again my left flip flop abandoned me. Luckily, this time no nail was involved.

Wael Al Sayegh is an Emirati cultural consultant, poet and writer.