مع طغيان أخبار الحج استرجعت ذاكرتي تجربة حجتي الأولى، كنت في السادسة عشرة من عمري برفقة مجموعة من زملاء المدرسة ضمن حملة خاصة قادمة من الكويت حيث كنت أدرس، كانت رحلة طويلة استغرقت أكثر من ١٦ ساعة دون توقف سوى للتزود بالوقود، أصابني فيها الجوع الشديد، وكان الأمل بوجبة دسمة عند الوصول، كما وعدنا المرافقون الأكبر سناً، لكن عند وصولنا تبين أن مضيفينا قد سبقونا بتناول وجبتهم ولم يحسبوا حسابنا ولم يتوفر لنا سوى قدر ضئيل من الطعام، وما زلت أذكر أن نصيبي منه كان لقمة واحدة من أرز بارد!
بعد الاستقرار في المخيم خرجت إلى الممرات الفاصلة بين المخيمات لأجد عشرات الخيم الخاصة التي انتصبت فيها قدور الأرز البخاري الضخمة لتبيع الوجبات للحجاج، كانت الرائحة ساحرة والجوع شديداً، لكن شعوراً غريباً بالخجل انتابني من شراء وجبة في الوقت الذي كان فيه زملائي جوعى، ولا أدري لماذا انتابني هذا الشعور ولماذا حرمت نفسي من إشباع جوعي، وما هو الخطأ الذي كنت سأرتكبه لو أنني التهمت بحر مالي طبقاً من ذلك الأرز الشهي الذي تعلوه قطعة من الدجاج المحمر، وعندما أتذكر ذلك الموقف السخيف أتساءل ما إذا كان هؤلاء الزملاء قد كبحوا شعور جوعهم مثلي أو ملؤوا بطونهم كما يجب أن يفعل أي جائع!
في تلك الرحلة تلقيت صدمتي الأولى من الملاسنات والمشاجرات التي تشتعل بين بعض الحجاج عند التدافع، وسمعت كثيراً عبارة «حج يا حاج» للتفريق بين المتلاسنين والمتشاجرين، فقد كنت أتخيل أنني ذاهب إلى تظاهرة إيمانية تصفو فيها القلوب والنفوس ويتحول فيها العباد إلى ملائكة تمشي على الأرض، لكن الحقيقة أن كثيراً من الحجاج كانوا أشبه بأعواد الكباريت المستعدة للاشتعال عند أقل احتكاك!
رغم ذلك كانت تجربة مسلية لمثل من هو في مثل عمري حيث تطغى روح الاستكشاف والمغامرة، لكنني عند العودة لم أعتبرها حجة مثالية، وعقدت العزم على حجة أخرى أديتها بعد ١٥ سنة، وكانت الأجواء مختلفة، حيث منعت الخيام واختفت قدور البخاري، وحلت محلها مخيمات الحملات المرخصة بمطابخها الخاصة وبوفيهاتها المنوعة، لكن شيئاً واحداً لم يختلف وهو سرعة اشتعال أعواد الكباريت البشرية!
باختصار.. رغم المشقة تبقى تجربة الحج الذكرى الأميز في حياة أي مسلم، وتبقى رائحة ذلك «البخاري» الذي حرمت نفسي منه عالقة في ذهني حتى اليوم!
تابع قناة عكاظ على الواتساب
With the overwhelming news of Hajj, my memory was brought back to my first pilgrimage experience. I was sixteen years old, accompanied by a group of schoolmates as part of a special campaign coming from Kuwait, where I was studying. It was a long journey that took more than 16 hours, with no stops except for refueling. I was hit by severe hunger, and I hoped for a hearty meal upon arrival, as promised by the older companions. However, upon our arrival, it turned out that our hosts had already eaten their meal and had not considered us, leaving us with only a meager amount of food. I still remember that my share was just one cold spoonful of rice!
After settling in the camp, I went out to the pathways between the camps to find dozens of private tents where huge pots of Bukhari rice were set up to sell meals to the pilgrims. The smell was enchanting, and my hunger was intense, but a strange feeling of embarrassment overcame me at the thought of buying a meal while my companions were hungry. I don’t know why I felt this way or why I deprived myself of satisfying my hunger, and what wrong I would have committed if I had devoured a plate of that delicious rice topped with a piece of roasted chicken. When I recall that silly situation, I wonder if my companions had suppressed their hunger like I did or if they filled their stomachs as any hungry person should!
During that trip, I received my first shock from the quarrels and fights that erupted among some pilgrims during the rush. I heard the phrase "Hajj, O pilgrim" many times to separate the quarreling parties. I had imagined I was going to a spiritual gathering where hearts and souls would be pure and worshippers would transform into angels walking on earth, but the reality was that many pilgrims resembled matchsticks ready to ignite at the slightest friction!
Despite that, it was an entertaining experience for someone my age, where the spirit of exploration and adventure prevails. However, upon my return, I did not consider it an ideal pilgrimage, and I resolved to perform another Hajj 15 years later. The atmosphere was different; the tents were banned, and the Bukhari pots disappeared, replaced by licensed campaign camps with their own kitchens and diverse buffets. But one thing remained unchanged: the quick ignition of human matchsticks!
In short, despite the hardships, the experience of Hajj remains the most remarkable memory in the life of any Muslim, and the smell of that "Bukhari" that I deprived myself of still lingers in my mind to this day!
After settling in the camp, I went out to the pathways between the camps to find dozens of private tents where huge pots of Bukhari rice were set up to sell meals to the pilgrims. The smell was enchanting, and my hunger was intense, but a strange feeling of embarrassment overcame me at the thought of buying a meal while my companions were hungry. I don’t know why I felt this way or why I deprived myself of satisfying my hunger, and what wrong I would have committed if I had devoured a plate of that delicious rice topped with a piece of roasted chicken. When I recall that silly situation, I wonder if my companions had suppressed their hunger like I did or if they filled their stomachs as any hungry person should!
During that trip, I received my first shock from the quarrels and fights that erupted among some pilgrims during the rush. I heard the phrase "Hajj, O pilgrim" many times to separate the quarreling parties. I had imagined I was going to a spiritual gathering where hearts and souls would be pure and worshippers would transform into angels walking on earth, but the reality was that many pilgrims resembled matchsticks ready to ignite at the slightest friction!
Despite that, it was an entertaining experience for someone my age, where the spirit of exploration and adventure prevails. However, upon my return, I did not consider it an ideal pilgrimage, and I resolved to perform another Hajj 15 years later. The atmosphere was different; the tents were banned, and the Bukhari pots disappeared, replaced by licensed campaign camps with their own kitchens and diverse buffets. But one thing remained unchanged: the quick ignition of human matchsticks!
In short, despite the hardships, the experience of Hajj remains the most remarkable memory in the life of any Muslim, and the smell of that "Bukhari" that I deprived myself of still lingers in my mind to this day!


