Growing up in a Muslim household,
I would constantly hear stories about Saudi Arabia.
Stories of courageous individuals making their mark.
I learnt of the journey that every Muslim made at least once in their life.
A short journey I was lucky enough to make.
The journey consisted of:
wake-up calls at one in the morning,
blisters on my feet
that I had never been more proud of,
and sipping coffee from nearly every stand I came across.
But I would always find peace in sitting alone near the Kaabah.
So sit I would.
With a cup of liquid courage held tightly in my hands,
I would remain enamored by the beauty of the city.
Whether it be the architecture to a unity amongst people performing Umrah,
to the ceilings that I couldn't tear my eyes from.
Murmurs of foreign languages I couldn't quite place
would be carried through soft gusts of warm air.
My eyes would shut,
and I would breathe in the smell of ittar and marble.
Smiles would be shared with anyone I locked eyes with,
as an unsaid statement would pass between us.
"I, too, feel the same way."
By Meshall Awan
Photos by author
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