We arrived two days ago, at Jeddah airport, and hastily made our way towards Makkah.
I can't describe how I was feeling, I was overjoyed and at the same time I was so emotional and upset over the distance I put between my family and I. I was really heart broken, I clutched my daughter as I weeped all afternoon.
Let me tell you honestly: the road from Jeddah airport to Makkah makes a seriously terrible impression. I was excited to enter the Holy city- somewhere I thought I would never be permitted to go- but the outskirts of Jeddah and makkah were full of filth and poverty, which to me seemed like it went on forever. I felt sick that moment I wondered if I had made an irreversible mistake.
I watched Bangladeshi men walk by in tattered clothes, service our car, and carry on with determination to make the buck they need to eat. One happily and so gratefully accepted $2 CDN (the tip was like 10 SAR) with a huge smile, I turned ny head so I could swallow my sadness because I had never really seen such poverty except on TV.
My husband generously tipped poor workers as charity and thanks to Allah and I weeped. I saw his happiness and accepted what I had chosen. A life awat from what I knew, that shielded me from sad scenes and the reality of poverty... and death.
Perhaps it was bad timing but a Syrian children's song played. Once I realized what the words were I felt ill. They sung about their dead siblings and friends- something so close to me in such a different way. Someone took thier family away where only a simple accident took my brother. No injustice, just a tragedy.
In fact I have been glued to a program here. A livestream of Syrian rebels: 24 hour monitoring of who I consider family in my religion. I watch as these men walk miles, forgetting fear in the name of safety for thier people, their wives and children. I never saw something as terrifying as this program, and though I'm fairly numb to death after my brother, I still see the grip on sanity and reality these people have after losing everything. I cannot say I was so familiar with loss.
So we entered Makkah: all I saw was garbage and unmaintained stores. It reminded me of Toronto so much. I felt disappointment. Until we got into the center of the city.
I fell in love with the mountains and marble and the happy people. I saw The madjid al haram and manicured palms and foliage. I saw huge malls with la vie en rose and the latest in fashion.
I'm never hot because ac pumps chilled air onto me constantly. A man pushed our grocery cart for us and another carried and installed the car seat. At first the service was unwelcome as I was so not accustomed to it- I come from a country where real service easily becomes perceived as loss of dignity and considered 'too much' work for money. I happily tipped for service and recieved smiles all day. My husband negotiated prices and got 40$ CDN off the car seat. In Canada you'd be laughed at.
I was upset that my husband worried me so much taking me to such scary places, I told him how I felt relieved that it wasn't all bad and he couldn't stop apologizing. "I didn't think I just took shortcuts!"
I'd rather take the busy scenic route believe me...
This morning Elly and I came down with something. We feel better now but I was so sick and she was throwing up (she's never been sick) so Hani and I panicked and took her to the hospital. She got an injection for rotavirus and is doing well. We probably got it from being exposed at the haram.
The morning after we arrived we went to do omrah. We did, it was 3:45 am and fairly empty (for being the religious center for millions). I fell in love with the feeling there, even Elly was peaceful as we carried her around.
We have been adjusting well while staying at my inlaws. We plan to meet them the first time tonight. I'm excited and nervous.
So far there has been so much to explore and a lot going on. I'll update in a week where I will have travelled across the country to my husband's home.
