The heat, sweltering. My sweat, pouring. My sight, blinded by the white marble floor’s reflection. I was close to passing out. Only a few precious sips of zamzam water remained. The Friday prayer Khutbah (sermon) was taking place. I sat just a few rows from the Kaaba. I wondered how all the other people, thousands, were bearing this heat. I couldn’t understand what was being said. It was in Arabic. I knew it was touching the heart of the imam (speaker). I could sense him holding back tears. I was trying not to look at my watch. I had been circling the Kaaba for hours before sitting down, waiting for Friday prayers to start. It was my first Friday prayer in Makkah. People adjacent to me sat still. I was moving in discomfort with the little energy I had remaining. As I yawned, which I do when feeling sick, I was thinking of exit plans. Who would help me? Would they know if I were to suffer a heat stroke? How would I walk past, stepping delicately between rows upon rows of people, if I were to exit? I even messaged my family telling them I love them. Was I getting delirious? My mask was soaked in sweat. I was finding it difficult to breathe. I had just completed 77 laps of the Kaaba, many of them in the sun. That was hard. Sitting here was harder. I wondered how much longer I could withstand this heat and thirst. I was utterly depleted. I prayed for Allah SWT to give me strength. 

Then came a moment when I was at my worst. There came a sudden breeze. Coolness, out of the stillness. Ease, in the midst of hardship. Hope, in the face of despair. It was exactly what I needed at the time I needed it most. It was enough to keep me there. Enough to keep me present for the upcoming prayer. Just as He had called me to visit His house, now He was calling me to pray here. We stood. We prayed. He had given us strength. He had eased our way towards Him.

Words by Saif Mir @trans4mingself

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