Photo credit Bandar Aldandani/AFP

Discovering my faith through Umrah

By Eda Kamal, January 16 2025—

Every year, millions of Muslims journey from every corner of the globe to Mecca, Saudi Arabia, where they perform the yearly ritual of Hajj or the perennial act of Umrah. Hajj also known as pilgrimage consists of many rites including the well-known act of circling the Kaa’bah (Tawaf), praying in different historic areas, walking between two hills (Sai), and far more. Hajj has been performed this way for millennia, with Muslims from all over the world travelling for such a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to engage with their faith and partake in special acts of worship. It has been my dream to go to Hajj along with the million other Muslims who attend the ten-day tradition. 

Because of constraints on health, money, and other conditions — my family is part of a demographic within the Islamic community for which it’s just not feasible, at least currently.

The next best thing, in this case, is Umrah. This is a less regulated form of the same rites and rituals that still encompasses most of the same forms of worship. Umrah can be done any time of year except for the ten days in which Hajj is being performed. I had the privilege of performing Umrah in November with my family, and from the perspective of someone who has almost exclusively spent time in Western countries with Muslim minorities, I experienced culture shock while discovering the intricacies of my faith firsthand.

We stayed in a hotel with a full view of the Kaa’bah, and the first time I saw it, I just stared as the pilgrims below circled in perfect and seemingly endless synchronicity. I am not a traveller, and I haven’t seen much of the world beyond my bounds. This experience, of simply just watching the pilgrims without having joined them yet, was what can only be described as spiritual.

I’ve never before had the experience of being in a place where I’m the majority — I am a brown hijabi woman, so in Calgary, people like me are not exactly abundant. In Mecca, it felt so strange that every woman was covered like me — most of them even more than I was. At the same time, I experienced for the first time being unable to communicate or find my own way around because of language barriers as I don’t speak Arabic. I found myself very quiet — from a combination of shock from my new surroundings, reflection on my relationship with Islam, and a general lack of need or ability to speak.

Tawaf itself was unparalleled and introspective, yet chaotic. Someone who hasn’t experienced it wouldn’t know the feeling of constantly balancing moving, staying with your group, focusing on your prayer, and counting how many times you’ve gone around. It was difficult! And there were so many more people than expected — even at the least peak time of the year, in the dead of night. Mecca never slept. 

The accessibility options at Mecca were greater than what is typical. After Tawaf, but before Sai, I began fainting due to exhaustion. I still wanted to complete the whole ritual, so there were golf carts available aboveground that took you around the distance between the two mountains without having to walk the course. I also later learned a similar service is available at the Kaa’bah. One cultural difference I noticed is the wording of accessible services — in English, the signs said “for people of determination” instead of “persons with disabilities” or “wheelchair accessible”. To me, this almost felt like more inclusive language, but opinions could obviously vary. 

Some experiences are different from others — I loved being surrounded by the history of my religion, but it made some individuals behave selfishly. Pushing and shoving to be inches closer to important places, fighting for places to pray — this is not what I imagine religion to be. I expected people to be more encouraging of each other on their religious journeys, and more selfless — but I suppose the desperation of being in such a holy place can sometimes overtake the values of the religion you’re trying to follow. Regardless, a few sour interactions did not taint the overall experience, and I learned so much about my religion and myself.

Every individual’s journey with life and what they choose to believe is their own, and every journey is respectable. Umrah helped me become so close to my faith after years of feeling estranged from it, and every cultural and historical difference helped me gain an understanding of my world. I feel like I came back as a new person, and I hope that I can continue to carry with me the inexplicable lessons I learned.

This article is a part of our Voices section and does not necessarily reflect the views of the Gauntlet editorial board.


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