Lesson from Safa and Marwa: Islam And Life Are About Sacrifice and Trust in Allah
By
Anisa Abeytia
29th July
2020
Life is
seldom foreshadowed for us like in a work of fiction. We usually have to wait
to understand the significance of an event. So, when it happens in real life,
it holds your attention transfixed. For months my dreams were filled with
images of Ibrahim (AS), Hajjar and the desert, and the sweeping expanse between
Safa and Marwa. I tucked the dreams away in the folds of my mind
with little expectation.
Soon after
my family and I received an invitation to attend Ummrah, all expenses paid. It
was an invitation extended to several convert sisters living in the United Arab
Emirates. It was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, but I was not traveling
alone.
Safa and Marwah are one of the major rituals of Hajj
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When the
idea was first proposed to me, I was anything but enthusiastic. The idea of
traveling with a ten-year-old, eight-year-old, six-year-old, five-year-old and
a nursing six-month-old, during Ramadan in the middle of summer, was daunting.
My five children and their father would all embark for Ummrah together.
I thought
about all the extra clothes, piles of diapers, and a ready supply of snacks I
would need to pack – contemplating dragging five children around Saudi Arabia
while attempting to perform Ummrah was not how I envisioned this spiritual
journey. I was focusing so much on what could go wrong, and yet, I did not want
my children or me to miss out on such a great opportunity and a few of the
women joining us volunteered to help me. We were living in Dubai and the
opportunity may not come again, so I agreed.
Running between Safa and Marwa
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In my
experience, I’ve found that if I just let go, and rely on Allah, everything has
a way of unfolding in the most incredible way. I knew that if Allah was
planning this trip, I did not need to worry. I also knew that with the help of
Allah, enough diapers and baby’s on-demand food supply (me), and a little help
from my sisters in Islam anything was possible. So, I prepared the family for
the journey.
I wanted to
experience something great and out of the ordinary when we walked out the front
door – and it was with this sentiment and a strong desire to connect with Allah
that I set off for Ummrah. Flying into Madinah, it was apparent to me that
there was something special about this trip. I had hoped for this to be a
special trip, but I didn’t want to start reading anything into this yet.
However, at the risk of sounding cliché, the visit was dreamlike. I moved
around Madinah as if surrounded by a gossamer haze. My children loved being in
this blessed city, Masha Allah, and didn’t fuss, not even the baby.
Makah, Saudi Arabia – July 28, 2019: photo of Safa and Marwa, it is a
street that Must Al Haj or Mu`tamir Running through it seven times, is part of
the Hajj or Umrah.
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The day I
entered the masjid of the Prophet (swa), I was filled with such joy and
elation. I was finally going to meet the Prophet (swa), the man who had
occupied so much time in my dreams. No one could understand what this moment
meant to me. I walked slowly and softly, tears in my eyes. I was hoping
something would happen. Would the ground shake? Would I hear his voice? I did
not know, but I was there and I wanted to savor the moment so I could remember
its taste for the rest of my life. While everyone around me rushed to the
Prophet’s (swa) grave, I crept slowly, trying to stretch the time.
I felt like
it was only he and I. Everyone else seemed like ghosts or beings occupying a
parallel dimension. It was only Rasul Allah (swa) and I.
I hoped I
was not going to be a disappointment to him. I stood in front of his grave as
the crowd swirled around me and the guards rushed them by. I said Asalaam
Alaikum and prayed for his family. I wanted to thank him (swa) for being my
friend when I was alone. I wanted to tell him how much he meant to me, but all
I could do was cry softly because I knew he already knew. What words could I
say anyway? I stood there for as long as I could, the crowd, the guards, and my
children moving me on, but it felt so special. I was visiting an old friend and
Insha Allah I would again. Did anyone else feel this way? Did it matter?
We took a
bus to Makkah a few days later. I was a bit tired, well, I was very tired, and
the baby was constantly nursing, but fatigue would soon be lifted. The tops of
the minarets of the Ka’aba came into view. You could not help but openly
sob, your body filled with a surge of energy and purpose. Here we were,
fulfilling the deepest desire of every Muslim; you had to be grateful. The Dua
you say as you approach Makkah are almost frantic – you do not want to waste
one moment to pray after you see the Ka’bah.
We arrived
at about two in the morning. The group decided we would sleep for a bit and
perform our Ummrah after fajr prayer. We slept for literally a few hours
because we had to eat suhur before fajr. I prepared my daughters and my husband
helped our sons get ready. Before we left, I put the baby in her backpack and
put her on my back for the first part of our Ummrah.
You hear
horror stories about people’s negative experiences in Makkah, but everyone was
so polite to us. Even the Makkah policeman called my daughter Habibati as
he asked her to move out of the way. Three of my children would perform their
Ummrah without me. They were with sisters that were traveling with us, but as a
mother, I still needed to keep then in my sight. There were not too many people
at this time and the summer heat was not yet upon us. I tried to concentrate,
but I do have to admit that I kept looking for my children. At one point the
kickstand to the baby backpack came out and I was turned around in a circle by
the mass of people. Someone eventually put it down and I could walk straight
ahead again.
My
five-year-old was also with me. I remember her little legs moving quickly as
she kept up with me. I kept whispering into her ear how good she was doing.
Towards the end I saw how hot and tired she was. At that point, she looked up
at me – “help me” was written all over her face. I thought what can I say, I
cannot pick her up, I have the baby on my back. Oh Allah, what can I say to
encourage her these last few steps? I
told her, “After we finish, habibati, I will buy you anything you want.” Her
face lit up and she charged ahead, Alhamdulillah.
I prayed
two rakka in front of Ka’aba, but I was hot, and my back was aching. I felt a
bit dazed by how many people there were and wondered how I could keep track of
all my children. So, I prayed, there was nothing else I could do. I am still
amazed at how smoothly the trip went and how I had the strength physically and
mentally to deal with everything. This was Allah’s mercy.
We went to
perform the last part of our Ummrah, the part between Safa and Marwa.
The baby now went to her father. I started to say my Dua as soon as we started
to move. I whispered to my children what they should say. After we completed
two circuits, I noticed the baby did not look well. I touched her hand and she
did not respond. I touched her cheek; she was very hot. I told her father I
would bring Zamzam water inshallah. I went to each waterspout, but they were
empty, it was Ramadan.
I then went
in the direction of Safa and checked the rows of water faucets, but no
water. I walked faster to catch up to the baby. I said to my husband, “there’s
no water, but I’ll try again.” I touched
the baby’s cheek and her head flopped to the side; her eyes were listless. This
was not good, but all I could do was pray that she would be ok. There was no
way to leave. I began to run, looking for water, looking for Zamzam for my
baby. I began to run faster and faster between Safa and Marwa
asking Allah to help my baby. Please let me find water. It was at this point
that I stopped, right in the middle of everyone, and could not believe what was
happening. I literally was re-enacting what Hajjar did.
I knew this
was a special moment, something that did not happen all the time. It was what
all mothers do. We fight for our children. We work for them, even to the extent
of neglecting our worship of Allah. I knew I had to make a choice then; what
was I going to do? I could not let my baby die, but I also could not neglect my
worship or lose this opportunity to perform my Ummrah properly.
I began to
run as fast as I could, but I said my Dua as I did, and as I did, I felt a real
sense of purpose. I had to finish my Ummrah and go get Zamzam for my baby. It
was another fifteen minutes before I could get the Zamzam water to her.
When I did, I said “Safaki Allho Afaki,” may Allah heal you, into the
cup. Within seconds she was fine.
As I ran
between Safa and Marwa I was reminded that even though I am a mother,
I am still a woman and I had to find a balance between the two. Life is about
finding balance; about the choices we make and how we respond to the obstacles
we face.
All too
often society asks women to make sacrifices. It is expected. Women sacrifice to
become mothers and as mothers, we continue to make sacrifices for our children.
Our role is important and many times our contributions are undervalued by
society because we are seldom honoured as women by our Muslim communities. This
needs to change in order to build healthy and strong societies to replace the
brittle and weak communities this Ummah has become. We need to remember the
sacrifices of Ibrahim (AS) and learn from them while implementing them into our
lives. As mothers, we are all Hajjar in search of Zamzam water for her child.
As Muslim women and men, we are called on to sacrifice, in big and small ways,
to make a strong Ummah.
Our choices
not only define who we are, but they also define what the Ummah is. Our Ummah
is collapsing one person at a time, one family at a time, one community at a
time, and country by country. Islam can no longer only be a collection of
rituals we perform with no connection to our private and collective lives. It
needs to live in each of us and be our guide if we hope for Allah to change our
situation. We are all running between Safa and Marwa right now,
looking for Zamzam, that thing that will heal us and bring us life and comfort.
The
foreshadowing did not lay in my pre-Ummrah dream, but instead in pointing to the
tremendous changes that were about to happen to my family and I. It was a
message that would serve as my guide in the days and years ahead. It was a
comfort during an extremely painful and lonely time and a reminder that Allah
would send the help when I needed, just as He helped Hajjar in her time of
need. Islam and life are about sacrifice, but it is also about trusting in
Allah’s plan and putting in the work – saying bismillah and tying your camel.
Original
Headline: Between Safa and Marwa
Source: The Muslim Vibe
URL: https://newageislam.com/islamic-culture/lesson-safa-marwa-islam-life/d/122501