It’s late.  I’m tired and I lay my head in bed with my eyes closed, the lights off, and the fan set on fast – directed right at me. The heat is just about bearable during the day, but it gets uncomfortable at night. I open the window in a desperate attempt to divert a cold breeze into my room, but to no avail.

I return to my bed defeated, in the realisation that things are not going to get any cooler. Having flipped over my pillow, which somehow seems to always be mysteriously cooler, I lay my head back down, close my eyes and try and dream of a more enjoyable time.

It’s 1997. I’m 11 years old, sitting on the dusty road outside my primary school on a hot Wednesday afternoon in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia. The weekend falls on Thursday and Friday in Saudi, so Wednesday is the last day of school.  My parents have come to pick me up, although this time they’re not taking me back home. The car is suspiciously filled with a few suitcases, and travel supplies. ‘We’re going on a journey!’ I think to myself; and I think I have a good idea about where we’re going!  The holy city of Makkah is not too far from Riyadh – approximately 8-10 hours by car, so my parents would often take my brothers and I randomly every now and then to spend a weekend in the blessed cities of Makkah and Madinah; a vital part of our tarbiyyah as we grew up as children.

We start the journey mid-afternoon and cover significant ground as dad takes advantage of the lack of traffic. We drive past ancient mountains and persist through desert roads surrounded by large sand dunes on either side. There are camels roaming aimlessly through the vast expanse of sand, and bedouins not too far behind them looking just as aimless. Slowly but surely the sun sets, and having made a pit stop to pray Maghrib and refill on fuel, we carry on our long never ending road.

It’s dark outside. As my dad soldiers on with the long drive, I lay back in the car seat and look through the large sun roof, gazing upon the desert sky littered with stars as far as the eye can see. There’s nothing quite like it. The clarity at which the stars shine, and the light which they provide is incomparable to anything else I can imagine. I try to spot the ‘Big Dipper’ and ‘Orions Belt’, but unfortunately my astronomy is not up to scratch – not that it should be at eleven years of age.  As my mind begins to drift oft into space, I start to dream about a night journey much more important than the one I am currently undertaking. That night journey oh so many years ago, where our beloved Prophet was prescribed the obligation of our daily prayers directly from Allah (swt) – and which I had just fulfilled moments earlier as the sun set on the world. That decisive night journey which tested the believers faith, separating the strong from the weak, and gaining Abu Bakr (ra) the title of ‘siddique’. That holy night, where the Prophet’s of old greeted the last and final Messenger Muhammad (saw), in Al-Quds and in the heavens. Since reading about that night, and all the interesting intricacies surrounding it, I have always found there to be something amazing about night journeys; and whilst I wish I was travelling on buraaq towards the heavens, travelling to Makkah to perform umrah was not so bad a consolation.

As we carry on traversing oceans of sand, I remind myself that these are not just any old barren pieces of land – they are the very deserts that the Queen of Sheba travelled in to reach the court of Prophet Sulayman; the very desert that the Prophet (saw) played in as a child; the very desert that the Prophet’s grandfather used to narrate stories to him in; the very desert that was witness to the last and final Messenger from God; and the very desert that I am now travelling in towards the holiest of holies.

We’re getting close. I role down the window as we arrive at Taif – where I shall put on my ihram before entering Makkah. The cool mountainous breeze hits my face and I feel surprisingly refreshed after 8 hours of travelling. Having showered and attempted to put on my ihram, still struggling to get the safety pins in the right places so that I don’t look like a complete fool, I pray in the Mosque and wait for my parents outside by the car. It’s not long now to Makkah. My soul is getting anxious. I begin to long for the view of the tall white minarets from my car window. We get closer and closer to our final destination, until finally we arrive in the valley of Makkah.

My father parks up outside our hotel, and after unloading all our belongings from the car to the hotel room, we all hurry ourselves towards masjid-al-haram. I feel somewhat insignificant when comparing myself to the grandiosity of the walls as I pass through the gates of the masjid. I walk further in and my heart begins to race yet I can’t explain why. My feet find comfort walking on the cold marble floor – but they begin to feel weak, and my head light. And then I see it. As if out of no where, there comes a spectacular view that leaves me breathless no matter how many times I have seen it before.  It’s almost a mirage. I can’t describe the feeling of seeing the Kaabah for the first time in a while. I begin to realise just why one gets rewards for merely gazing upon it. Tears begin to roll down my face, yet again I am unable to find an explanation. I look around, and my family are in the same state as I am in.

It’s late.  I’m tired and I rest my head on the floor in sujood. With my eyes closed I whisper to myself ‘I’m here my lord, I have come’.

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