If ever there was a moment which encapsulated the hajj, it was this. The pilgrimage undertaken by millions of Muslims every year is one of the five pillars of Islam and something that every Muslim who can afford it and is physically able must perform once in his or her lifetime. Those who make the trip, which takes place once a year, come from ever corner of the world.
The elderly, the young, those who are frail and in poor health, those from tiny villages or huge cities, those from undeveloped nations and those from the western world, man, woman, child, of every race and colour, here they all walk side by side on their way to prayer.
We arrive first in the city of Medina, where the Prophet Muhammad made his home after making the hijrah – his flight from Mecca to escape persecution. The landscape of the city itself has changed drastically since my last visit nine years ago. I recall the Masjid al-Nabawi – the Prophet's mosque – seemed colossal and the centrepiece of the city. In one respect it has not changed, it is still the point toward which everyone gravitates, but it is now almost dwarfed by the hotels and shopping malls surrounding it.
Leaving our hotel just before daybreak to perform fajr – the early morning prayer – I expected the streets to be mostly empty, but there was a steady stream of people on their way to worship. The only way to secure a praying space for yourself at the mosque at any of the five main prayer times is to be there early. Even at 5.30 am, space is extremely limited.
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3:55 AM
Moderate Islamist here
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