Their newspaper editors seem to be made of far finer material than the rest of the media combined—Well, other than these fine gentlemen, that is.
That being said, I reckon this means it's time to issue an Islamic Rage Boy Watch for the coming month.
My hat's still on, thank you.
Update: Michelle says Sammenhold; I say "How high?"
Stop—Sammenhold time!
It'll be interesting to see if the "tolerant and diverse" Western media will be brave enough to publish these scaaaaaary cartoons this time around, or if the job of actual reporting will once again be left to Ye Olde Blogosphere.
See-Also: The Pirate's Cove, Babalu Blog, American Thinker, The Jawa Report, A Blog For All, NoisyRoom, Hot Air, UrbanGrounds, Bookworm Room, PoliGazette, Residual Forces, BLACKFIVE, The Patriot Missile, Gateway Pundit, The American Pundit, Abu Wabu, Al Salibiyyah
Comments:
#2 Pirate's Cove 13-Feb-2008
The Devine Miss MM calls for a reprint of the Mohammed cartoons on this second anniversary. Can do!
Click the photo for full size Check Captain Ed, he has lots more on the subject.
More: check out the ultra-awesome, and fatwa friendly, graphic at snap...
Click the photo for full size Check Captain Ed, he has lots more on the subject.
More: check out the ultra-awesome, and fatwa friendly, graphic at snap...
#3 Y.A.C.R.W.B 14-Feb-2008
The Captain and Michell Malkin have kicked off call for bloggers to deminstrate solidarity with the Danish Newspapers who have demonstrated solidarity with Kurth Westergaad and Jyllands-Posten today.
First, lets get up to date on the story as I have...
#4 Cletus 14-Feb-2008
I hope some of these muslim douchebags protest in my city. I'll get in a car and run them all the fuck down
#5 The Four Color Media Monitor 14-Feb-2008
Two years ago, the cartoon riots over the Mohammed cartoons published in Denmark took place. Michelle Malkin brings up the subject this week again, rightly stressing that this is something to show solidarity (or, as in Danish, sammenhold) with for th...
#6 Mike 17-Feb-2008
This is my first visit to your site. I'm amazed to see that the statement of Cletus was allowed to stand. It was foolish.
I am certainly not a proponent of Islam; and if we are to find ways to fight Islamization it won't be by being foolish enough to do murderous things.
Ironically, that is what the Islamists are doing with suicide bombings. Let's not imitate thier irrational jihad.
We as a nation believe that people have a right to difference of opinion, particularly of religious belief. Islam does not accept this. We are in a war of belief and ideas now that often comes back at us as an "operation" of al-Quaeda or one of it's many spawns.
We need to be the nation we should be against this long-lived danger. God help us. Mike
I am certainly not a proponent of Islam; and if we are to find ways to fight Islamization it won't be by being foolish enough to do murderous things.
Ironically, that is what the Islamists are doing with suicide bombings. Let's not imitate thier irrational jihad.
We as a nation believe that people have a right to difference of opinion, particularly of religious belief. Islam does not accept this. We are in a war of belief and ideas now that often comes back at us as an "operation" of al-Quaeda or one of it's many spawns.
We need to be the nation we should be against this long-lived danger. God help us. Mike
#7 Brian C. Ledbetter 17-Feb-2008
Mike,
Comments on this site are as unmoderated as I can make them. I like to allow everyone to get their opinion out on these topics, whether I agree with them or not.
(See here, for example.)
Regards,
Brian
Comments on this site are as unmoderated as I can make them. I like to allow everyone to get their opinion out on these topics, whether I agree with them or not.
(See here, for example.)
Regards,
Brian
#8 In NJ 17-Feb-2008
Brian,
Did you see the excuses offered by BBC for it's cowardice? If not, here it is - BBC's Excuse for not printing the cartoons
Taking "Bending over backwards" to a higher level.
Did you see the excuses offered by BBC for it's cowardice? If not, here it is - BBC's Excuse for not printing the cartoons
Taking "Bending over backwards" to a higher level.
#9 Abdullah bin AbduRahmān al-Qādirī al-Chishtī al-Athloni 28-Dec-2010
An Invitation to a Garden in Paradise
I performed the istikhārah salāh on the evening of Thursday, 7th September 1995 and pleaded for guidance from Allāh, The One Who Is Above weaknesses. By the Grace of Allāh, The One Who Is Most Kind to His slaves, I had the most marvellous dream. In my sleep that evening, I saw myself standing in the venerated presence of, and about two metres away from our Beloved Prophet Muhammad in the Raudha al-Jannah. The Holy Messenger of Allāh was immaculately dressed in pristine white apparel and white turban. I felt entirely insignificant. I was in the company of the fountainhead of virtue. I, also, was dressed in white robes and a white turban, and stood with my back towards the qiblah. Tears of happiness streamed down my cheeks. The Holy Prophet , who was sent by Allāh, The Creator and Cherisher of all things, as a Warner and a Mercy to the worlds, stood and looked at me. My spirit rested. I said in Afrikaans: “Yaa Rasoeloellah, ek het vir U kom wys my familie – Suleiman, Dawood, Rifdah, en Makkia.” In English, this reads: “O Messenger of Allāh, I have come to show to your [esteemed] self my family – Suleiman, Dawood, Rifdah and Makkia.”
I woke with a song in my heart. Allāh had honoured me with the society of the best of mankind. The dream was etched in my memory with an astonishing clarity. I shall never forget it. It was, to me, a precognition of the predestination of Allāh, The One Whose Will Reigns Supreme, and an invitation from al-Madīnah al-Munawwarah.
By my words “Yaa Rasoeloellah” (“O Messenger of Allāh”), I knew that I had definitely dreamt of the Modest Messenger of Allāh . I had addressed our Good Prophet with the utmost respect. That I spoke in “kombuis” Afrikaans was enlightening. I had much to think about.
The reason for my not mentioning my wife’s name (as part of my family) in the list of introductions to our Prophet Muhammad became apparent to me – she had introduced herself on our first Pilgrimage in 1991! The same could be said for myself – I also had not introduced myself in the dream, as I, likewise, had first travelled to Madīnah then.
I had referred to Suleiman, Dawood, Rifdah and Makkia in the sequence in which they were born. The dream held another eye-opener – I had spoken of them as ‘my family’ and not as ‘my children’ (as we do in the west). In this lay a poignant lesson – although Makkia forms part of our family, she is adopted (and not ours biologically) and therefore not of ‘our children’! For inclusiveness and especially in du’ā, I later familiarised myself with referring to them as ‘my family’, rather than ‘my children’. I would also refer to them as ‘the children’ in du’ā.
I realised also that my not speaking of them as ‘children’ could mean that all, or some of them, would be adults by the time that we got to the City of Light.
Always thereafter, I wondered why our Cherished Prophet did not speak to me in the dream.
I related my experience to anyone who would listen.
Islam teaches that a person who dreams of the Holy Prophet Muhammad has dreamt the truth and has in fact seen the Holy Prophet , and not (mistakenly) anyone else in his or her dream. Based on this reassurance, I believed with certainty that, as long as we held firmly onto the Sharī’ah of Islām, my family and I would receive divine assistance to get to the Hijaz.
A considerable number of the ’Ibaad-u-Ragmaan Qadiri Jamaa’ah had regularly, over the years, travelled to Saudi Arabia on Haj and ’Umrah. More than fifteen Jamaa’ah people had gone on Haj in 1997. In 1998, thirty-six persons had performed the holy journey. Twenty-one Jamaa’ah pilgrims had answered the call in 1999. The year 2000 had twenty-five Jamaa’ah hujjāj. Just eight people had gone during 2001. This time, more than a hundred went.
It was a good year, 1422AH. The Haj of that year brought new meaning to the lives of many and helped to heighten the spirit of camaraderie among the members of the ’Ibaad-u-Ragmaan Qadiri Jamaa’ah. Travelling to and staying in the Holy Land has always meant a lot to me. This journey was especially fulfilling. Every day was better than the one before, every moment sweeter than the previous one. Better travelling companions I could not have hoped for.
At 6pm on 24th December 2001, we left Cape Town for Johannesburg. Two days later, we left Johannesburg on Flight KQ 0461 for Nairobi and Jeddah. On 27th December 2001, we arrived by bus in Makkah al-Mukarramah from Jeddah. “Suleiman, Dawood, Rifdah, Makkia – Look! There’s the outer wall of the Masjid al-Harām,” I called out to them as our bus neared the Great Mosque. Inside was the Baitullāh. I felt like jumping out and running towards it.
We booked into a hotel and completed the rites of ’Umrah. That Suleiman, Dawood and Rifdah were of age had added value to things. Makkia was just big enough for us not to have to carry her during the tawāf of the Baitullāh and the sā’i. She had turned eight in Makkah.
Taxis coasted through the bustling streets. Tow-away trucks hurriedly hauled away badly parked vehicles. Trucks busily pumped desalinated water into storage tanks. Lorries delivered water from the central water distribution centre on the outskirts of Mecca to homes, schools, hospitals and hotels in the area. There were more water delivery trucks than bread distribution vans on the roads.
With the approach of every obligatory prayer, traffic police hastily converted smaller roads into one-ways that led towards the Masjid al-Harām. On the completion of the prayers, many thoroughfares functioned as one-ways leading away from the Grand Mosque. Outside of the busy times, these streets served as dual carriageways.
Various tongues sounded from a string of telephone booths as international callers spoke to family and friends back home. Pilgrims stood in line as they waited to use the clustered telephone kiosks.
A cup of tea cost one Saudi riyal on the street. Mutabbag, fried pastry crammed with sweet or savoury filling, were topped with lemon and pepper. This was sold by street vendors in Mecca as ‘fast food’. Kibda sandwiches overflowing with fried liver slices mixed with onion, tomato, and green peppers were irresistible. Traditionally made shawarma was especially tasty. Fruit and vegetables stands made a mint. Stalls selling fruit juice sprinkled with shaved ice had a roaring trade.
Cafés and restaurants flourished. Coffee in herbal, fruity or cardamom blends was served in small cups as appetizers. Tables overflowed with regional delights. Rice was the staple cooked meal ingredient. Slow-cooked, broad, brown beans called fūl was particularly mouth-watering and eaten with flat Afghan bread called tamīz, at breakfast. Spicy kebab tested one's taste buds. Sweet mint tea was served in small glasses. Pakistani eateries sold burgers, pies, samosas, breyani, roast chicken, and roti and curry. On offer also, were warm and cold beverages.
Shopkeepers gave customers some chewing gum, a packet of tissues, or an item of similar value, instead of a half-riyal coin as change. Some shops did not keep coins. Handling loose change was seen as a nuisance.
Recorded recitals from the Holy Qur’ān by Dr ’Abd Al-Rahmān ibn ’Abd Al-’Aziz al-Sudais al-Najdi and Shaykh Saud ibn Ibrahim al-Shuraim al-Najdi sounded from audio shops. An expert in Islamic jurisprudence, Shaykh ’Abd Al-Rahmān al-Sudais had been the leading Imam in the Masjid al-Harām since 1983. Shaykh Saud al-Shuraim, also, was Hāfith al-Qur’ān and an Imam in the Great Mosque. He served as a judge in the High Court of Mecca and was a member of the teaching staff at the Umm al-Qura University in the Holy City.
If monetary outlay was the standard by which such things were measured, the Sacred Mosque in Makkah must have ranked as the principal wonder of the world. Billions of Saudi riyal had been spent on its expansion and upkeep. Escalators carried eager worshippers between floors. The air-conditioning and audio systems there were from the top drawer.
Embroidered Quranic texts glistened above head height on the kiswah. Brown tiles had replaced the hand-hewed stones of the Holy Ka'aba. The polished granite base of the Baitullāh had not changed.
Authorities protected the blind and the infirm against the frenetic pace of the matāf by restricting them to certain sections of the Grand Mosque during this time.
Falcons had ousted the finches from the Ancient Mosque. Gliding majestically from the 89-metre-high minarets, these magnificent hunting birds soared elegantly on the warm air currents high above the Masjid al-Harām. They were showing off, I thought.
Clothed in ’Umrah clothes, our group went to al-Ji’rānah one day, intent on performing the Lesser Pilgrimage from there. Adjacent to the Masjid al-Ji’rānah, was a large burial ground. Haji Bienjamien Abrahams and I approached it. I was about to peer over the high wall, when he had already opened the heavy metal gate. We went inside. The graves were well maintained. We raised our hands and recited the Surah Al-Fātiha for the sake of Allāh , dedicating the spiritual benefits of its recital to the people who were buried in the graveyard. I lifted my head and saw the soul of every occupant of every grave standing at the head of his burial place. Some of the holy companions of our Expressive Prophet Muhammad had been laid to rest within this cemetery. Many had fallen in battle. Allāh, The One Who Is free of all wants and Worthy of all praise, is Pleased With them and they are pleased with Allāh . They had given their lives for their God Most High, exulting in the defence of Islam. No amount of reparation can repay their service. They had championed a cause so wondrous, being so wonderful themselves.
Prayers for rain on 31st December 2001 in the Masjid al-Harām were answered when showers fell in Mecca hours later. Thunder preceded the sudden downpour. The torrent broke a long spell of drought. Urchins paddled impishly through the flooded streets in low lying areas.
At around 16:00 on 2nd January 2002, we went by bus from Makkah to Madīnah and reached there the next morning. Cape Muslims rarely spent more than ten days in Madīnah – my family and I would spend twenty-one wonderful days there.
Al-Masjid al-Rasūl, complete with underground parking and first floor, had been enlarged to include two inner courtyards. Twelve big state-of-the-art, umbrella-shaped Teflon sunshades sheltered visitors against the sun. Enlarged to hold more than a million worshippers, the Holy Mosque boasted large patterned doors, precast terrazzo cornices, eye-catching brass chandeliers and golden grilles. Plush woollen carpets enhanced the stylish décor.
Sheikh ’Ali ibn ’Abd Al-Rahmān al-Hudhaifi al-’Awāmiri was an Imam in the Mosque of the Prophet. He lectured at the Islamic University of Medina and taught in al-Masjid al-Rasūl. Always, when we performed the congregational Salāh on arrival in the City of Light, Sheikh al-Hudhaifi had led the prayer in al-Masjid al-Nabwi. On every occasion, strangely, he had loudly recited from the part of the Chapter of the Glorious Qur’ān called Al-Furqān (“The Criterion”) wherein God describes the ’Ibād al-Rahmān. This time was no different. The Word of God tore at my heart. Worshippers sobbed openly.
Underneath the green dome in the Masjid al-Nabwi was the Apartment of Sayyidatinā 'Āishah. The treasures of the heavens and the earth and all its elements could not rival the worth of this Sacred Chamber. Curtained behind ceiling-high partitioning, it held the holy graves of our Selfless Prophet Muhammad , Sayyidinā Abu Bakr al-Siddīq and Sayyidinā ’Umar al-Farūq (May Allāh, The One Who Lives and dies not, Bless them with His Guardianship).
After performing the necessary Salawāt, I carefully walked into the Raudha al-Jannah. A fresh breeze blew through the place. Calm came over me. Heavenly fragrances caught my attention. My mood moved from a state of grace to the very mountain-top of spirituality. Clad in white robes and a white turban, and standing with my back towards the qiblah, I stopped about five feet from the brass lattice that separates one from the holy graves.
Written in Arabic above head height to my right on the enclosure, were the Words from the Chapter in the Grand Qur’ān called Al-Hujurāt (The Private Apartments, or The Inner Apartments, 49:2). Reworded in English, it said: O you who believe! Raise not your voices above the voice of the Prophet, nor speak aloud to him in talk, as you may speak aloud to one another, lest your deeds become vain and you perceive not.
Above that, was written an Arabic couplet from a qasīdah by Imam al-Habīb 'Abdallah bin 'Alawi al-Haddād (1634-1720CE/1044-1132AH – May Allāh Be Pleased With him), that, translated, said:
Our Great Prophet! Whose greatness of character
Was Praised by God Himself in the greatest of Books
A little ahead of me on the barrier was displayed the Words from the Quranic Chapter named Al-Hujurāt, 49:3 (translated from Arabic): Those who lower their voices in the presence of Allāh's Messenger, their hearts have Allāh tested for piety: for them are Forgiveness and a great Reward.
Raised to the left on the fence, were set down the Arabic Words from the Quranic Chapter Al-Ahzāb (The Confederates, The Clans, The Coalition, or The Combined Forces, 33:40), translated into English: Muhammad is not the father of any of your men, but (he is) the Messenger of Allāh, and the Seal of the Prophets: and Allāh has full knowledge of all things.
I was unable to stop the tears from running into my beard. Choking back my emotions, I managed to greet and bestow salutations on the Holy Messenger of Allāh . I faithfully declared the essentials of my faith, confirmed our Prophet’s most excellent standing in the Sight of God, proclaimed the unquestioned success of his mission and again conveyed peace and greetings on God’s Chosen Messenger. I softly added: “Yaa Rasoeloellah, ek het vir U kom wys my familie – Suleiman, Dawood, Rifdah, en Makkia.” (“O Messenger of Allāh, I have come to show to your [esteemed] self my family – Suleiman, Dawood, Rifdah and Makkia.”)
I greeted our Warm-hearted Prophet Muhammad on behalf of the people who had asked me to do so. I also greeted the Holy Prophet’s illustrious companions, Sayyidinā Abu Bakr al-Siddīq and Sayyidinā ’Umar al-Farūq, and attested to their rank before God and the unselfish help that they had given our Holy Prophet (May Allāh, The One Who Is Best Informed of all things, Comfort them with His Unending Satisfaction).
My dream of our Free-handed Prophet Muhammad had come true after more than six years. Allāh, The One Who Feeds us against hunger and Makes us secure against fear, Had Guided us through the flawless personality of our Prophet . Our Holy Prophet had taught me good manners. I considered it a major honour being able to present my family to our Wise Prophet . I was glad that I could show to our Prophet that there had been some moral advancement in our lives since we had last been to al-Madīnah al-Munawwarah. Our Blameless Prophet Muhammad is the guiding light of those who do good deeds. There is no man greater than him. He is the spirit of truth and the master of those who warn against evil. The most honoured person in the Sight of Allāh , our Generous Prophet remains the model that guides others to the straight path. Our Chivalrous Prophet Muhammad is the Sayed of the people of paradise.
“It’s warm here,” Makkia had quietly protested to me on the Holy Plain of ’Arafāt on the Day of Wuqūf.
“It usually is,” I gently reassured her.
In the Holy Pilgrimage we had partly received our just earthly deserts. Allāh, The Guardian and Disposer of all affairs, had honoured my family and I in our pursuit of seeking His Countenance, by Granting that we stand together, for His sake, on the Plain of ’Arafāt on the Day of Haj. We performed the Pilgrimage with a singularity of purpose. Together we had, as closely as humanly possible, served as willing instruments in the Grand Plan. I, in keeping my word, had faithfully embraced my destiny. I had followed my dream to the letter. I had another Haj in a million.
In Makkah al-Mukarramah I had met with the Signs of God in all its Glory. In al-Madīnah al-Munawwarah, I had found the Mosque of the Prophet, serene, yet resplendent with its many offerings.
From the Sahīh al-Bukhāri, Volume 9, Hadīth Number 122, translated from Arabic:
Narrated Abū Huraira : I heard the Prophet saying, “Whoever sees me in a dream will see me in his wakefulness, and Satan cannot imitate me in shape.” Abū ’Abdullah said, “Ibn Sīrīn said, ‘Only if he sees the Prophet in his (real) shape.’”
From the Sahīh al-Muslim, Book 29, Hadīth Number 5636, translated from Arabic:
Abū Huraira reported: I heard Allāh's Messenger as saying: “He who saw me in a dream would soon see me in the state of wakefulness, or as if he saw me in a state of wakefulness, for Satan does not appear in my form.”
May Allāh Bestow Peace and Salutations on our master Muhammad, on all the prophets and messengers, on the angels, on the righteous, on the martyrs and upon His pious slaves.
Al-Hamdu Lillāh.
I performed the istikhārah salāh on the evening of Thursday, 7th September 1995 and pleaded for guidance from Allāh, The One Who Is Above weaknesses. By the Grace of Allāh, The One Who Is Most Kind to His slaves, I had the most marvellous dream. In my sleep that evening, I saw myself standing in the venerated presence of, and about two metres away from our Beloved Prophet Muhammad in the Raudha al-Jannah. The Holy Messenger of Allāh was immaculately dressed in pristine white apparel and white turban. I felt entirely insignificant. I was in the company of the fountainhead of virtue. I, also, was dressed in white robes and a white turban, and stood with my back towards the qiblah. Tears of happiness streamed down my cheeks. The Holy Prophet , who was sent by Allāh, The Creator and Cherisher of all things, as a Warner and a Mercy to the worlds, stood and looked at me. My spirit rested. I said in Afrikaans: “Yaa Rasoeloellah, ek het vir U kom wys my familie – Suleiman, Dawood, Rifdah, en Makkia.” In English, this reads: “O Messenger of Allāh, I have come to show to your [esteemed] self my family – Suleiman, Dawood, Rifdah and Makkia.”
I woke with a song in my heart. Allāh had honoured me with the society of the best of mankind. The dream was etched in my memory with an astonishing clarity. I shall never forget it. It was, to me, a precognition of the predestination of Allāh, The One Whose Will Reigns Supreme, and an invitation from al-Madīnah al-Munawwarah.
By my words “Yaa Rasoeloellah” (“O Messenger of Allāh”), I knew that I had definitely dreamt of the Modest Messenger of Allāh . I had addressed our Good Prophet with the utmost respect. That I spoke in “kombuis” Afrikaans was enlightening. I had much to think about.
The reason for my not mentioning my wife’s name (as part of my family) in the list of introductions to our Prophet Muhammad became apparent to me – she had introduced herself on our first Pilgrimage in 1991! The same could be said for myself – I also had not introduced myself in the dream, as I, likewise, had first travelled to Madīnah then.
I had referred to Suleiman, Dawood, Rifdah and Makkia in the sequence in which they were born. The dream held another eye-opener – I had spoken of them as ‘my family’ and not as ‘my children’ (as we do in the west). In this lay a poignant lesson – although Makkia forms part of our family, she is adopted (and not ours biologically) and therefore not of ‘our children’! For inclusiveness and especially in du’ā, I later familiarised myself with referring to them as ‘my family’, rather than ‘my children’. I would also refer to them as ‘the children’ in du’ā.
I realised also that my not speaking of them as ‘children’ could mean that all, or some of them, would be adults by the time that we got to the City of Light.
Always thereafter, I wondered why our Cherished Prophet did not speak to me in the dream.
I related my experience to anyone who would listen.
Islam teaches that a person who dreams of the Holy Prophet Muhammad has dreamt the truth and has in fact seen the Holy Prophet , and not (mistakenly) anyone else in his or her dream. Based on this reassurance, I believed with certainty that, as long as we held firmly onto the Sharī’ah of Islām, my family and I would receive divine assistance to get to the Hijaz.
A considerable number of the ’Ibaad-u-Ragmaan Qadiri Jamaa’ah had regularly, over the years, travelled to Saudi Arabia on Haj and ’Umrah. More than fifteen Jamaa’ah people had gone on Haj in 1997. In 1998, thirty-six persons had performed the holy journey. Twenty-one Jamaa’ah pilgrims had answered the call in 1999. The year 2000 had twenty-five Jamaa’ah hujjāj. Just eight people had gone during 2001. This time, more than a hundred went.
It was a good year, 1422AH. The Haj of that year brought new meaning to the lives of many and helped to heighten the spirit of camaraderie among the members of the ’Ibaad-u-Ragmaan Qadiri Jamaa’ah. Travelling to and staying in the Holy Land has always meant a lot to me. This journey was especially fulfilling. Every day was better than the one before, every moment sweeter than the previous one. Better travelling companions I could not have hoped for.
At 6pm on 24th December 2001, we left Cape Town for Johannesburg. Two days later, we left Johannesburg on Flight KQ 0461 for Nairobi and Jeddah. On 27th December 2001, we arrived by bus in Makkah al-Mukarramah from Jeddah. “Suleiman, Dawood, Rifdah, Makkia – Look! There’s the outer wall of the Masjid al-Harām,” I called out to them as our bus neared the Great Mosque. Inside was the Baitullāh. I felt like jumping out and running towards it.
We booked into a hotel and completed the rites of ’Umrah. That Suleiman, Dawood and Rifdah were of age had added value to things. Makkia was just big enough for us not to have to carry her during the tawāf of the Baitullāh and the sā’i. She had turned eight in Makkah.
Taxis coasted through the bustling streets. Tow-away trucks hurriedly hauled away badly parked vehicles. Trucks busily pumped desalinated water into storage tanks. Lorries delivered water from the central water distribution centre on the outskirts of Mecca to homes, schools, hospitals and hotels in the area. There were more water delivery trucks than bread distribution vans on the roads.
With the approach of every obligatory prayer, traffic police hastily converted smaller roads into one-ways that led towards the Masjid al-Harām. On the completion of the prayers, many thoroughfares functioned as one-ways leading away from the Grand Mosque. Outside of the busy times, these streets served as dual carriageways.
Various tongues sounded from a string of telephone booths as international callers spoke to family and friends back home. Pilgrims stood in line as they waited to use the clustered telephone kiosks.
A cup of tea cost one Saudi riyal on the street. Mutabbag, fried pastry crammed with sweet or savoury filling, were topped with lemon and pepper. This was sold by street vendors in Mecca as ‘fast food’. Kibda sandwiches overflowing with fried liver slices mixed with onion, tomato, and green peppers were irresistible. Traditionally made shawarma was especially tasty. Fruit and vegetables stands made a mint. Stalls selling fruit juice sprinkled with shaved ice had a roaring trade.
Cafés and restaurants flourished. Coffee in herbal, fruity or cardamom blends was served in small cups as appetizers. Tables overflowed with regional delights. Rice was the staple cooked meal ingredient. Slow-cooked, broad, brown beans called fūl was particularly mouth-watering and eaten with flat Afghan bread called tamīz, at breakfast. Spicy kebab tested one's taste buds. Sweet mint tea was served in small glasses. Pakistani eateries sold burgers, pies, samosas, breyani, roast chicken, and roti and curry. On offer also, were warm and cold beverages.
Shopkeepers gave customers some chewing gum, a packet of tissues, or an item of similar value, instead of a half-riyal coin as change. Some shops did not keep coins. Handling loose change was seen as a nuisance.
Recorded recitals from the Holy Qur’ān by Dr ’Abd Al-Rahmān ibn ’Abd Al-’Aziz al-Sudais al-Najdi and Shaykh Saud ibn Ibrahim al-Shuraim al-Najdi sounded from audio shops. An expert in Islamic jurisprudence, Shaykh ’Abd Al-Rahmān al-Sudais had been the leading Imam in the Masjid al-Harām since 1983. Shaykh Saud al-Shuraim, also, was Hāfith al-Qur’ān and an Imam in the Great Mosque. He served as a judge in the High Court of Mecca and was a member of the teaching staff at the Umm al-Qura University in the Holy City.
If monetary outlay was the standard by which such things were measured, the Sacred Mosque in Makkah must have ranked as the principal wonder of the world. Billions of Saudi riyal had been spent on its expansion and upkeep. Escalators carried eager worshippers between floors. The air-conditioning and audio systems there were from the top drawer.
Embroidered Quranic texts glistened above head height on the kiswah. Brown tiles had replaced the hand-hewed stones of the Holy Ka'aba. The polished granite base of the Baitullāh had not changed.
Authorities protected the blind and the infirm against the frenetic pace of the matāf by restricting them to certain sections of the Grand Mosque during this time.
Falcons had ousted the finches from the Ancient Mosque. Gliding majestically from the 89-metre-high minarets, these magnificent hunting birds soared elegantly on the warm air currents high above the Masjid al-Harām. They were showing off, I thought.
Clothed in ’Umrah clothes, our group went to al-Ji’rānah one day, intent on performing the Lesser Pilgrimage from there. Adjacent to the Masjid al-Ji’rānah, was a large burial ground. Haji Bienjamien Abrahams and I approached it. I was about to peer over the high wall, when he had already opened the heavy metal gate. We went inside. The graves were well maintained. We raised our hands and recited the Surah Al-Fātiha for the sake of Allāh , dedicating the spiritual benefits of its recital to the people who were buried in the graveyard. I lifted my head and saw the soul of every occupant of every grave standing at the head of his burial place. Some of the holy companions of our Expressive Prophet Muhammad had been laid to rest within this cemetery. Many had fallen in battle. Allāh, The One Who Is free of all wants and Worthy of all praise, is Pleased With them and they are pleased with Allāh . They had given their lives for their God Most High, exulting in the defence of Islam. No amount of reparation can repay their service. They had championed a cause so wondrous, being so wonderful themselves.
Prayers for rain on 31st December 2001 in the Masjid al-Harām were answered when showers fell in Mecca hours later. Thunder preceded the sudden downpour. The torrent broke a long spell of drought. Urchins paddled impishly through the flooded streets in low lying areas.
At around 16:00 on 2nd January 2002, we went by bus from Makkah to Madīnah and reached there the next morning. Cape Muslims rarely spent more than ten days in Madīnah – my family and I would spend twenty-one wonderful days there.
Al-Masjid al-Rasūl, complete with underground parking and first floor, had been enlarged to include two inner courtyards. Twelve big state-of-the-art, umbrella-shaped Teflon sunshades sheltered visitors against the sun. Enlarged to hold more than a million worshippers, the Holy Mosque boasted large patterned doors, precast terrazzo cornices, eye-catching brass chandeliers and golden grilles. Plush woollen carpets enhanced the stylish décor.
Sheikh ’Ali ibn ’Abd Al-Rahmān al-Hudhaifi al-’Awāmiri was an Imam in the Mosque of the Prophet. He lectured at the Islamic University of Medina and taught in al-Masjid al-Rasūl. Always, when we performed the congregational Salāh on arrival in the City of Light, Sheikh al-Hudhaifi had led the prayer in al-Masjid al-Nabwi. On every occasion, strangely, he had loudly recited from the part of the Chapter of the Glorious Qur’ān called Al-Furqān (“The Criterion”) wherein God describes the ’Ibād al-Rahmān. This time was no different. The Word of God tore at my heart. Worshippers sobbed openly.
Underneath the green dome in the Masjid al-Nabwi was the Apartment of Sayyidatinā 'Āishah. The treasures of the heavens and the earth and all its elements could not rival the worth of this Sacred Chamber. Curtained behind ceiling-high partitioning, it held the holy graves of our Selfless Prophet Muhammad , Sayyidinā Abu Bakr al-Siddīq and Sayyidinā ’Umar al-Farūq (May Allāh, The One Who Lives and dies not, Bless them with His Guardianship).
After performing the necessary Salawāt, I carefully walked into the Raudha al-Jannah. A fresh breeze blew through the place. Calm came over me. Heavenly fragrances caught my attention. My mood moved from a state of grace to the very mountain-top of spirituality. Clad in white robes and a white turban, and standing with my back towards the qiblah, I stopped about five feet from the brass lattice that separates one from the holy graves.
Written in Arabic above head height to my right on the enclosure, were the Words from the Chapter in the Grand Qur’ān called Al-Hujurāt (The Private Apartments, or The Inner Apartments, 49:2). Reworded in English, it said: O you who believe! Raise not your voices above the voice of the Prophet, nor speak aloud to him in talk, as you may speak aloud to one another, lest your deeds become vain and you perceive not.
Above that, was written an Arabic couplet from a qasīdah by Imam al-Habīb 'Abdallah bin 'Alawi al-Haddād (1634-1720CE/1044-1132AH – May Allāh Be Pleased With him), that, translated, said:
Our Great Prophet! Whose greatness of character
Was Praised by God Himself in the greatest of Books
A little ahead of me on the barrier was displayed the Words from the Quranic Chapter named Al-Hujurāt, 49:3 (translated from Arabic): Those who lower their voices in the presence of Allāh's Messenger, their hearts have Allāh tested for piety: for them are Forgiveness and a great Reward.
Raised to the left on the fence, were set down the Arabic Words from the Quranic Chapter Al-Ahzāb (The Confederates, The Clans, The Coalition, or The Combined Forces, 33:40), translated into English: Muhammad is not the father of any of your men, but (he is) the Messenger of Allāh, and the Seal of the Prophets: and Allāh has full knowledge of all things.
I was unable to stop the tears from running into my beard. Choking back my emotions, I managed to greet and bestow salutations on the Holy Messenger of Allāh . I faithfully declared the essentials of my faith, confirmed our Prophet’s most excellent standing in the Sight of God, proclaimed the unquestioned success of his mission and again conveyed peace and greetings on God’s Chosen Messenger. I softly added: “Yaa Rasoeloellah, ek het vir U kom wys my familie – Suleiman, Dawood, Rifdah, en Makkia.” (“O Messenger of Allāh, I have come to show to your [esteemed] self my family – Suleiman, Dawood, Rifdah and Makkia.”)
I greeted our Warm-hearted Prophet Muhammad on behalf of the people who had asked me to do so. I also greeted the Holy Prophet’s illustrious companions, Sayyidinā Abu Bakr al-Siddīq and Sayyidinā ’Umar al-Farūq, and attested to their rank before God and the unselfish help that they had given our Holy Prophet (May Allāh, The One Who Is Best Informed of all things, Comfort them with His Unending Satisfaction).
My dream of our Free-handed Prophet Muhammad had come true after more than six years. Allāh, The One Who Feeds us against hunger and Makes us secure against fear, Had Guided us through the flawless personality of our Prophet . Our Holy Prophet had taught me good manners. I considered it a major honour being able to present my family to our Wise Prophet . I was glad that I could show to our Prophet that there had been some moral advancement in our lives since we had last been to al-Madīnah al-Munawwarah. Our Blameless Prophet Muhammad is the guiding light of those who do good deeds. There is no man greater than him. He is the spirit of truth and the master of those who warn against evil. The most honoured person in the Sight of Allāh , our Generous Prophet remains the model that guides others to the straight path. Our Chivalrous Prophet Muhammad is the Sayed of the people of paradise.
“It’s warm here,” Makkia had quietly protested to me on the Holy Plain of ’Arafāt on the Day of Wuqūf.
“It usually is,” I gently reassured her.
In the Holy Pilgrimage we had partly received our just earthly deserts. Allāh, The Guardian and Disposer of all affairs, had honoured my family and I in our pursuit of seeking His Countenance, by Granting that we stand together, for His sake, on the Plain of ’Arafāt on the Day of Haj. We performed the Pilgrimage with a singularity of purpose. Together we had, as closely as humanly possible, served as willing instruments in the Grand Plan. I, in keeping my word, had faithfully embraced my destiny. I had followed my dream to the letter. I had another Haj in a million.
In Makkah al-Mukarramah I had met with the Signs of God in all its Glory. In al-Madīnah al-Munawwarah, I had found the Mosque of the Prophet, serene, yet resplendent with its many offerings.
From the Sahīh al-Bukhāri, Volume 9, Hadīth Number 122, translated from Arabic:
Narrated Abū Huraira : I heard the Prophet saying, “Whoever sees me in a dream will see me in his wakefulness, and Satan cannot imitate me in shape.” Abū ’Abdullah said, “Ibn Sīrīn said, ‘Only if he sees the Prophet in his (real) shape.’”
From the Sahīh al-Muslim, Book 29, Hadīth Number 5636, translated from Arabic:
Abū Huraira reported: I heard Allāh's Messenger as saying: “He who saw me in a dream would soon see me in the state of wakefulness, or as if he saw me in a state of wakefulness, for Satan does not appear in my form.”
May Allāh Bestow Peace and Salutations on our master Muhammad, on all the prophets and messengers, on the angels, on the righteous, on the martyrs and upon His pious slaves.
Al-Hamdu Lillāh.
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