Madinah and Makkah, Saudi Arabia

Umrah a Trace of Gratitude

By @AyeshaTrace

In Gratitude

Before I tell this story, I must name the ones who made the way easy. To my teachers, Shaykh Muhammad Haydara al-Jilani, Dr. Umar Faruq Abd-Allah, Sh. Walead Mosaad and Dr. Mariam Shebani: this journey was your gift to me, and my heart has no words large enough to hold it.

You carried us with knowledge tempered by humility. You corrected with mercy and met each seeker where they were. Your patience gave our hearts room to reflect, and your generosity of time and energy brought us closer to God. I ask God to reward you with the best of rewards, to increase you in knowledge and nearness to Him, and to accept every step you took for us.

I offer this story with love, with respect, and with du'a. May Allah bless you and accept from you. Ameen.

Arrival

On September 27, 2019, Saudi Arabia opened its tourist visa program. Umrah had always been a lifelong dream. In the past, a woman had to travel with a male relative and carry a letter proving her faith. Then the visa was announced just as Oasis announced they would take students from around the world for Umrah, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I applied right away, gathered every document, and received a letter from my local mosque confirming my faith. Alhamdulillah, I was on my way.

On November 14, 2019, a letter arrived that sent excitement bubbling through my whole body.

As-salamu alaykum. We are honoured to have you join us for our first ever Oasis Initiative Umrah. We thank God that He has given us the opportunity to visit His sacred house and noble Prophet, peace be upon him.

Our scholars would travel with us, and we would stay at the Madinah Hilton, opposite the Prophet's Mosque, and the Conrad Makkah. I was filled with gratitude to be travelling with honourable teachers whose knowledge illuminates hearts with wisdom about God and purification. The letter asked us to approach with pure intention, to be punctual and prepared, to practise what we learned, and to carry gratitude in quiet prayers.

We flew business class with Malaysian Airlines, and we all met at the airport. I gave out small Aussie health packages as gifts, we hugged, and we shared our excitement. During the flight the prayer was read aloud in Arabic, and as the plane landed the pilot recited, Labbayk Allahumma labbayk. It was a beautiful beginning.

My only experience of the Arab world had been through television, and I was nervous that the airport would be filled with angry men shouting, as on the news. Guards stood in lines in light green, safari-style uniforms, and my heart beat louder as one put out his hand for me to stop. I was alone, a Western woman in Saudi Arabia, and the negative media had me thinking I was in danger. I knew Islam as a religion of peace, yet those subliminal messages had tainted the moment. My chest tightened.

Then I looked up. The guard was smiling, unaware of the images forming in my mind. His smile told me it was alright, and all sense of danger melted away. He stamped my passport and waved me along, and just like that I was in. I remembered Malcolm X, who wrote of his pilgrimage that it had forced him to rearrange much of his thought pattern. It is true.

Nimah Ismail Nawwab and I shared a conjoined master suite with other beautiful women, whose names I keep private out of respect for them.

Madinah

My first day in Madinah, I anticipated a life-changing experience, and the tremors of excitement slowed my breath as I tried to absorb every moment. Turbans and hijabs stood tall, lighting the path and lifting hearts with a call to come on. The adhan sent streams of light through my soul:

God is Great, God is Great. I bear witness that there is no god except the One God. I bear witness that Muhammad is the messenger of God. Hurry to the prayer. Hurry to salvation. God is Great. There is no god except the One God.

We stood tall to pray, and as we went into sujood tears streamed down my face. I was filled with extreme gratitude and an immense feeling of belonging. I felt freedom in my soul.

The Hilton is a short distance from the Prophet's Mosque, peace and blessings be upon him. It reminded us that this was a pilgrimage: be humble in heart, lower the gaze, be kind with each step. It is not easy to be on your best behaviour, and we took care to stay clean in mind, body and soul, to match the magnitude of our surroundings. There is an aura in the atmosphere that can only be experienced here, and mercy is all around.

By the third day I could see that millions of people had travelled here from all over the world, and I imagined how each of us had come to be here together. I thought of the Prophet, peace and blessings be upon him, asking his beloved wife Khadijah, "Who will believe me?" She was his first and most trusted supporter. Now there are millions of believers, right here.

The beautiful Malaysian group I travelled with decided to feed travellers. It was a small, kind gesture that truly touched my heart. We took packages of hot takeaway meals and set out looking for people who might be finding the journey difficult. It is hard to tell who is in need. I noticed a well-dressed, clean couple searching through a bin for food. I ran to them and said, "As-salamu alaykum, peace be upon you, would you like some food?" Their smiles filled my heart more than the food could fill their bellies. I said, "All thanks to God," and carried on.

The next day we jumped on the bus singing along to religious music and drove to an olive farm for dinner. Pomegranate seeds, rich in red, brought the salad to life. We sat on the floor with our legs tucked behind us around huge silver platters from which five people could eat, sharing the meal in memory of the prophets. There was rice in bright reds and greens, tenderly wrapped vine leaves, olive dips, and bread baked to a light, fluffy crisp. When you share from one plate it is intimate, with manners to be followed. The intention and the human connection made that meal feel like a spiritual encounter.

On my fourth day, the time came to enter the resting place of the Prophet Muhammad, peace and blessings be upon him. My heart trembled at the sound of shuffling feet on the white marble. Shoulder to shoulder, women from all sides of the earth pressed in for a chance to stand as close as possible to our beloved, each of us begging for a taste of mercy, packed in like bees in a hive. The excitement of the Rawda lifted my soul.

To the side I saw some esteemed ladies walking tall through the crowd. It was Shaykh Hamza's wife and Dr Aisha who I had previously met at the Rails program. I followed them, but I was stopped by a small, weeping elderly Black woman in a cream cotton dress and white hijab, crouched on the floor with her face in her hands. I stood firm and let no one push me, because if she fell she would not rise. Her weeping was loud, and the crowd was louder. The esteemed ladies were gone. So too was my hope of making it to the front of Proper Muhammads peace and blessing be upon him, golden gates.

Someone behind me began to push. I pointed and said, "Look, we can't go!" She bent down and bellowed, "MOVE IT!" In shock, I crouched and wrapped my body around the old woman, rubbing her back as she sobbed. I prayed, Ya Allah, please help this lady. Mend her broken heart and let her rise.

I reflected that this was a metaphor for all those forgotten and oppressed, who fall in life and cannot get up while the world walks past. I prayed harder for them. Allah, Allah, lift them with Your mercy.

People shoved and moved around us. We embraced and looked into each other's eyes, and she gently rose. She smiled and kissed me on both cheeks, her touch soft and her scent sweet like musk. I did not speak her language and she did not speak mine, but our hearts bonded as she smiled with one shining white tooth, her glistening black eyes full of love and light. Then, just like that, the way to the front opened, and we walked forward and prayed side by side, in peace. in a sublim moment of heartfelt gratitude there was sakina in the air. (May all those who are oppressed find peace too.) That afternoon it was a beautiful sunny day with a gentel breeze, Shaykh Muhammad and Shaykh Walead took us for leisurely walk around Madina, sometimes I wonder how on earth was I invited to such a beautiful place v with the most beautiful people. My heart was filled with love and peace, so so internally thankful for the company and special care that was give to us by our teachers and organisers.

Makkah

On the seventh day we travelled to Makkah. There was sadness in leaving Madinah, like leaving a loved one with hope of return. As the bus rumbled on and the noise of the street faded, people prayed silently, and the speaker echoed through the bus: As Dr Umar recited Labbayk Allahumma labbayk. Here I am, O God, here I am. We drove 340 km through the mountains of the Hejaz, past the occasional tiny house and a shepherd in a long robe and turban, a stick in his right hand. As we arrived in Makkah that night, the sadness lifted, and we began Umrah straight away.

We gathered at the gates of the Kaaba, the house Prophet Abraham built thousands of years ago. Shaykh Muhammad Haydara al-Jilani and Dr. Umar stood before us, with about 300 of us who had travelled together. My heart pounded. We were dressed in fresh, simple, flowing cotton, rich and poor shoulder to shoulder, with no symbol of wealth between us, red, yellow, black or white, all before One God who created us.

As we stood there, I felt a great thud of light settle into my chest. In that moment I looked up, and Shaykh indicated for us to begin.

We circled the Kaaba. Nimah Nawwab, my dear friend, held my arm tightly. Dr. Umar led the way with his powerful spiritual presence, tall and strong like a spiritual giant, standing with honour and grace. He led the du'a as we walked, and tears rolled down my face. I recited Surah Al-Fatiha again and again, as it is my favourite surah. I wore my mother's ruby ring so that I would remember to pray for her.Alhamdulillah Alhamdulillah Alhamdulillah this moment is tremendous in the hidden tappistry of existence being infused though us.

The people moved like an ocean, one body of water, and each of us was a single drop in the sea. After the seventh round we stopped to drink Zamzam and pray. There I asked Allah, in His mercy, to spread Islam around the world, and I prayed for my mother to become Muslim. In 2023, in the weeks before she died, she did. She saw angels, and she was at peace in her last days. Alhamdulillah.

We then walked between the two mountains, following the footsteps of Hajar, the wife of Prophet Abraham. It was an amazing experience. Back at the front gates, the street sweepers swept in a kind of dance, side to side with a swish and a skip, then a fast run all together with a final dip. It looked like something from a Mary Poppins movie, and the delight lifted our spirits as we completed the actions of Umrah.

On the tenth day, I felt comfortable walking around Makkah alone. I looked up, and there was the Kaaba. It took my breath away. I'm here, O God, I'm here.

Standing at the Kaaba, I was pushed from behind by a stampede of men. In front of me knelt an Arab man with wrinkled fingers and a soft face, palms turned to the sky. God, give me strength, I called from within, as my fingertips pressed into the wall of the Kaaba until they turned white. My body stayed still. At least ten men tried to force their way through. If I moved forward I would crush him, so I did not budge. Eventually the crowd passed around us. He was still in prayer and did not seem to notice.

Mercy and Strength

After the pilgrimage I reflected on the difference between the two cities: mercy in Madinah, and strength in Makkah. In this world we can be trampled by men and women alike as everyone travels their own journey. As human beings we are asked to honour and protect with both mercy and strength.

This Umrah opened my eyes. It was the people I met along the way who enriched the journey and stayed in my heart, and it renewed my faith in humanity. I took this as my warm-up, as now I understand the flow of the rites. Next, Inshallah, is Hajj.

Carried in the Heart

It did not feel right to speak of every individual experience with friends. Many moments are treasured deeply in my heart, and they will stay close there. Everyone I travelled with was beautiful and memorable, and I ask Allah to reward each of them with much good in this world and the next.

Every day I would find myself near Dr. Umar, and I would sit quietly behind him as he read the Quran. He did not know I was there. It was one of the sweetest gifts of the journey, and I hold it with deep gratitude and respect.

To be constantly mindful of the heart is a lovely feeling, and something I still need to work on. Inshallah.

Naseeb

In November 2024 and again in November 2025, Allah allowed me to return for Umrah. Completing Umrah is like entering a different time zone. During tawaf, the constriction and opening as we circled the Kaaba was a reminder of the flows of life, as if a whole lifetime of events occurs in a moment.

Ya Allah, You trace a path before me that I scarcely comprehend. Plans unravel without warning, and prayers whispered in earnest do not always arrive. Yet Your wisdom shields me from what my heart is not ready to bear. Every delay bears a mercy hidden from my sight, and Your timing, infinitely wiser than mine, unfolds with grace. Naseeb is my reminder that what is meant for me will not miss me, and what departs from me was never part of my story. My heart rests, knowing Your plan is gentler than my deepest desires, and I trust that my naseeb will meet me when You say the time is right.

May Allah have mercy on my dear friend Nimah Nawwab, and on my mother, and grant them the highest gardens of Paradise. Ameen. I'd love to read your stories too. 🩵🩷