Gerry Callaghan
Member
- Time of past OR future Camino
- 2015 Cycled from Clonmacnoise in Ireland, France, Camino Frances, Camino Finisterre.
'Hey Pilgrim!'
“Ya Hajii!” yelled Abdullah from the other side of the electricity substation. “Fe andek mifta komstasher?”.
35 years ago, Abdullah and I were installing a new electricity distribution system in Sanaa, the capital of the Yemen. Abdullah wanted to learn English, I wanted to learn Arabic so we had a deal. On one day we spoke Arabic, on the next, English.
I tossed him the 15 millimeter spanner as requested and returned to my control panel and circuit diagram.
After a brief period I got distracted and started to think about the wonderful nicknames I had acquired in the six-months since arriving in Yemen.
First I’d been “Al Russiah” the Russian. This was reasonably logical, all non-arab foreigners in the 60’s were Russian. Then I’d briefly been “Nasrani”, the Christian. This was not exactly a compliment and everyone seemed a bit uncomfortable using it. Finally Abdullah had come up with the name “Hajii”. This was unanimously approved and whenever I was introduced by this name I was always greeted with smiles and laughter.
“Hajii” was a bit of a mystery though. I knew what the Haj, the great pilgrimage to Mecca, was of course. I’d seen the pilgrims leave Yemeni villages on the 1000km trek to Mecca. They traveled in Toyota Landcruiser pickup trucks that were jammed with people both inside and out. Every pickup had at least one mattress with an old sick man lying on it. It was extremely touching to see these people ignore their age and illness to make the pilgrimage for the first and last time of their lives.
Roman solved the mystery for me. He was a Swiss/Moroccan White Father, a social worker in Sanaa prison. After many years in the Islamic world he was our expert on everything to do with the culture.
Roman explained that when a man returned from the Haj he acquired the honorific title “Hajii”. Now he was supposed to be a new and reformed character. This meant no more alcohol and being a regular attender at the mosque. To mark this change he grew his beard and dyed it red.
That explained things! At that time my beard was a lot bushier and a lot redder than it is now. Hajii was a good name for me!
It's good to remember stories like this when powerful forces are busy creating hatred between Christian and Muslim people.
Now I’ve reached the stage of my life when I’ve to do my own Haj. In my culture this is the great Camino to Santiago de Compostello. I start from Clonmacnoise on 14th April.
“Ya Hajii!” yelled Abdullah from the other side of the electricity substation. “Fe andek mifta komstasher?”.
35 years ago, Abdullah and I were installing a new electricity distribution system in Sanaa, the capital of the Yemen. Abdullah wanted to learn English, I wanted to learn Arabic so we had a deal. On one day we spoke Arabic, on the next, English.
I tossed him the 15 millimeter spanner as requested and returned to my control panel and circuit diagram.
After a brief period I got distracted and started to think about the wonderful nicknames I had acquired in the six-months since arriving in Yemen.
First I’d been “Al Russiah” the Russian. This was reasonably logical, all non-arab foreigners in the 60’s were Russian. Then I’d briefly been “Nasrani”, the Christian. This was not exactly a compliment and everyone seemed a bit uncomfortable using it. Finally Abdullah had come up with the name “Hajii”. This was unanimously approved and whenever I was introduced by this name I was always greeted with smiles and laughter.
“Hajii” was a bit of a mystery though. I knew what the Haj, the great pilgrimage to Mecca, was of course. I’d seen the pilgrims leave Yemeni villages on the 1000km trek to Mecca. They traveled in Toyota Landcruiser pickup trucks that were jammed with people both inside and out. Every pickup had at least one mattress with an old sick man lying on it. It was extremely touching to see these people ignore their age and illness to make the pilgrimage for the first and last time of their lives.
Roman solved the mystery for me. He was a Swiss/Moroccan White Father, a social worker in Sanaa prison. After many years in the Islamic world he was our expert on everything to do with the culture.
Roman explained that when a man returned from the Haj he acquired the honorific title “Hajii”. Now he was supposed to be a new and reformed character. This meant no more alcohol and being a regular attender at the mosque. To mark this change he grew his beard and dyed it red.
That explained things! At that time my beard was a lot bushier and a lot redder than it is now. Hajii was a good name for me!
It's good to remember stories like this when powerful forces are busy creating hatred between Christian and Muslim people.
Now I’ve reached the stage of my life when I’ve to do my own Haj. In my culture this is the great Camino to Santiago de Compostello. I start from Clonmacnoise on 14th April.
