The most touching moments from my 18th Hajj: 'Tears were mixed with raindrops on their faces'

It was 3am when we finally reached our camp site in Arafat, concluding a long day that had begun the previous morning at 5am. Lying on the floor of the prayer room, I tried, with little luck, to get some sleep, putting my bag under my head and covering my body with an extra scarf I brought with me. "Balquees, you really need to sleep," I told myself. "In a few hours, the sun will rise and you will have the longest day of the week." That day was what is known as the Day of Arafat, the most important day in Hajj during which pilgrims move between three locations across 24 hours. As one of the largest religious gatherings on Earth, the second day of Hajj in Arafat is often the most memorable for pilgrims. Still, I couldn’t sleep. A girl entered the room in which I was trying to sleep to pray. "Are you with the group that just arrived and have no bed?" she asked, after noticing me. "Yes," I answered, before breaking down. "I’m really tired. I'm worried I will get a migraine, and I can’t get a migraine. I’m here not just as a Hajji, I’m a reporter and I need to be fully functioning tomorrow." I was just moments away from tearing up. The girl, called Dania, simply replied: “Get up, take all your stuff and go take my bed.” I tried to refuse; it was not fair for her, but she insisted. She said she didn't feel sleepy, while my red eyes told a different story. "This is what Hajj is all about," I thought. I felt content. I had just finished a very long day filled with obstacles, but this woman changed everything. Trying to sleep is a very hard thing to do at the Hajj, where you share a huge room in camp tents with lots of people. It's almost like a massive sleepover. In our camp in Arafat, our room hosted 100 to 150 people; it makes nodding off difficult for a light sleeper like me. With two air conditioners close by, it was a cold evening. When I finally fell asleep at 5am, I was woken by a woman next to me, chatting with her mother on the phone. I asked her to lower her voice, but to no avail. However, the moment caused me to reflect on one of the key lessons of Hajj. Patience: Hajj forces you to calm yourself and to not react in a rude way. During Hajj, you are religiously forbidden to fight or have an argument. If you do, your Hajj might not be accepted. The most enchanting scene I witnessed this year – my 18th Hajj – was when it rained in Arafat. Although you feel spiritual every day among all the crowds, when it rained, it was magical. A feeling that no words can describe. I grabbed my filming kit and ran outside, but the minute I stepped out, I stood in awe instead of turning on my camera. Under the rain outside our camp, groups upon groups of people were all standing in the direction of Qibla, raising their hands to God making doua’a, known as supplications. In fact, it seemed as though it was their hearts that were reaching to the sky. The scene was so vivid that I got goosebumps. If you were there, you would have felt both the calmness and urgency of the prayers. The people were praying as if they were certain they would be answered. Tears were mixed with raindrops on their faces. One older lady particularly struck me; she was in a wheelchair, both hands raised to the sky, her daughter stood beside her holding an umbrella over her. Even two hours later, when the rain had stopped, she was still there. As I left our camp to begin reporting, my umbrella was broken by a strong wind. I continued on in the heavy rain until a group of girls from my room saw me and called me to join them. We were four girls under one umbrella. It gave us little protection from the rain but truly represented solidarity in Hajj, as we prayed together in whispers. It felt so enchanting to be one among two million people standing in the same place, all feeling blessed with the rain, all raising their hands in prayer. Wherever you looked, left or right, they were all in white. No matter where they came from, in groups they stood together towards the Qibla and sent their wishes to God. This moment was the highlight of my Hajj. As the rain started to get stronger, we had to get inside. My feet were immersed in water as we ran back to shelter, my white Hajj clothes were completely and utterly soaked. As I entered the women's indoor section, I didn’t care that I was wet; I was just so happy. Dania, who had given up her bed that morning, came rushing over. "What did you do to yourself? You will get a cold,” she chastised. Two minutes later, she brought me her personal towel to help me get dry. Unfortunately, all my clothes for Hajj were back in Mina, where I had stopped the previous day. I walked into a section of the room where I thought I saw an old family friend that would be able to lend me something. I couldn’t find her, but started to feel cold. I quietly asked: "Does anyone have something I can wear?” Seconds later, six women were all offering me something: a scarf, a blouse, trousers, a long dress. Overwhelmed, I felt as if I was among family, although I had never met any of these people before. In fewer than five minutes, I was dry and dressed in clean, white Hajj clothes, none of which were mine. Again, the solidarity of Hajj prevailed. It is the little moments like these that make this journey so momentous.

The most touching moments from my 18th Hajj: 'Tears were mixed with raindrops on their faces'

Mount Arafat had a particularly magical quality for Balquees Basalom this year