Meeting with the Minister

بِسۡمِ ٱللهِ ٱلرَّحۡمَـٰنِ ٱلرَّحِيمِ

The following is adapted from Signs on the Horizons by Shaykh Harun Michael Sugich. 

“At that time the summer capital of Saudi Arabia was in Tha’if and all the government was in the mountain city.  My brother-in-law had a friend from Tha’if who offered to help get me to the Minister.  The friend was Bukhari, a Saudi of Central Asian extraction.  He was very friendly and well-meaning but also a little crazy, and I was completely at his mercy.  By this time, it was Ramadhan, the month of fasting, and during the day my new friend regaled me with stories about his sexual fantasies until I had to ask him to stop.  When we would get to his house in the afternoons, he would light up a cigarette and eat - just being in his company made me feel like I was breaking my fast. 

A kindly Indian professor I met in Jiddah had generously lent me his car to use while he was away on his summer break, and my helper from Tha’if insisted on driving me around the city in it.  His driving was as reckless as the rest of his behaviour, but there was little I could do but ask him to slow down and drive more carefully.  We discovered that the Minister received petitions at a weekly majlis, gathering, held at the government palace in Tha’if.  We arranged to attend.  On the eve of the majlis, my Tha’ifi friend took my borrowed car out on an errand … and wrecked it.  The whole front end of the Japanese car was smashed in.  I had been trying to resolve our marriage situation for months by this time; I was running out of money and had one setback after another, but this was the last straw.  I had this ominous feeling that I was in the wrong company, in the wrong place, at the wrong time and that I was never going to succeed.  I normally do not give up easily, and am rarely prone to gloom, but this episode took all the wind out of my sails.  I became utterly and quite openly depressed and discouraged.  All I wanted to do was to get out of that place.  My guilty friend from Tha’if tried to cheer me up, but I was inconsolable.  He insisted I come with him to an ifthar, break fast, at the home of one of his friends.  It was the last thing I felt like doing, but I was staying at his house and could not refuse. 

We arrived just before the sunset prayer at the gathering of young Saudi men.  I was lost in my thoughts.  How was I going to explain the car to the Indian professor?  How was I going to pay for the repairs, if the car even could be repaired?  What if, once again, we could not get my petition to the Minister?  How much longer was this excruciating process going to take?  My wife was stuck in California with our two babies and having a hard time coping.  I was not earning.  How was I going to be able to support them?  All these thoughts were running through my head at the fast-breaking.  I was oblivious to everything around me. 

When the meal was finished, our young host asked me to come with him, for what reason I did not know.  He took me into another room in the house.  Here, his father was sitting alone.  He held prayer beads, which he was working.  His face was serene and luminous.  His presence was healing.  I realised immediately I was in the presence of one of God’s swalihin, Rightly-Guided servant.  He said to me, ‘My son has told me about your predicament.  Your affair is in the hands of your Lord.  Remember, these princes, these men are slaves of God.  They have no real power.  They can only do what God Decrees.  Put your trust in God and He will Take Care of you.’  He then instructed me to recite the formula, ‘Ya al-‘Ali, al-Khabir’, ‘O the Exalted, the Aware’ ceaselessly, and to recite Sura YaSin forty times during the night.  When I left his presence, my heart had calmed, and my spirits had lifted. 

I immediately began repeating the invocation he recommended and, when I was alone at night, recited Sura YaSin.  My recitation was slow and halting, so I only managed to recite Surah YaSin half the number he prescribed before setting off for the Ministry of Interior to attend the majlis of Prince Na’if. 

On the way, I continued repeating the invocation silently and praying for success.  As my wife’s official guardian, my brother-in-law accompanied me to present the petition for our marriage.  On the ride over to the Ministry, he was laughing and joking, but when we reached the majlis hall he discovered that what we were doing was no laughing matter. 

Petitioners were pushed roughly into a long line.  As each petitioner reached the front of the line, two very large and powerful muwalid, mixed blood – half Arab-half African – guards in white robes carrying holstered guns and bandoliers stepped forward on each side and grabbed his arms so he could not move. 

Less than a year earlier, the Holy Mosque in Makkah had been seized by fanatics and turned into an armed fortress in an attempt to overthrow the Saudi government.  A bloody two-week siege left hundreds dead, and the Saudi government badly shaken.  Security had been intensified. 

My brother-in-law was not ready for this degrading procedure and became highly agitated.  But I had been reciting Qur’an and invocation all night long, and my heart was absolutely tranquil by this time.  I was like a dead body in the hands of the guards. 

When our turn came, my brother-in-law, his arms pinned to his sides, approached the Minister.  I stood two paces behind him, similarly constrained.  He handed over the petition to an aide, who handed it to Prince Na’if.  My brother-in-law blurted out our situation: that I was an American and married his sister, and that we had two children.  The Minister looked up puzzled and said, ‘So, what’s the problem?’ 

My brother-in-law said, ‘They didn’t have official permission.’  Prince Naif nodded in recognition and looked past my brother-in-law and into my eyes. 

Desert shuyukh and princes raised to rule are taught from an early age to read petitioners’ faces.  They see so many people, they have to gauge character in a glance in order to make snap decisions.  I learned this from a friend of mine who had been a ruler in Southern Arabia.  Our eyes met. 

My heart was serene.  I looked at him calmly with no fear or emotion of any kind, nodded respectfully and smiled.  He ‘read’ me. He smiled back.  He then looked to my brother-in-law, gestured to the side, and said, ‘Istirih’, ‘Take your ease’, which meant that we were to sit to the side and wait.  He read the petition carefully and signed it.  Our marriage was approved. 

A few days later, my crazy helper delivered my borrowed car completely repaired, as if nothing had happened.  God is the most Generous of the Generous and the Most Merciful of the Merciful. 

My brief Ramadhan encounter with a simple man of God the night before had turned the tide and transformed what seemed like a hopeless ordeal into an unexpected success.  I lived for twenty-three years in the sacred precincts of Makkah, and my compassionate benefactor who came to my rescue and gave me good counsel and a remedy for my disconsolate heart was a pivotal instrument of this incredible blessing.  May God Reward him and Cover him with Mercy.”