What I thought was a midlife crisis turned out to be a time for rebirth.

I was born a Muslim-Maranao, but it took nearly five decades to understand what that meant. Islam is not just a set of devotional rituals, rules and prayers but a lifestyle that has given me purpose. As Eid al-Fitr ends, I’m starting my life as a better person.

Friends in Manila know me as a publicist and a talent manager. I had been quiet about my background. My grandfather Datu Gunting was a sultan of Lumbayanague in Lanao del Sur. My maternal grandfather Datu Grande reigned in one of the municipalities of the province.

Growing up in a royal household, I experienced the perks. We were “untouchable,” given preferential treatment and often gifted with food. Since my parents were affluent, they could afford to go on the hajj, the pilgrimage to Mecca, the holy city in Saudi Arabia, every year, while others could only go once in their lifetime.

As one of the pillars of Islam, the hajj is done for spiritual renewal. Muslims from all over the world gather to cleanse their souls and become closer to God, whom we call Allah.

In childhood, I saw my father pray five times a day; worship Allah and acknowledge Muhammad, the Prophet of Islam, and observe Ramadan, the monthlong fasting. My relatives gave to charity.

My parents separated when I was young. My father brought me to General Santos City, South Cotabato province, which was populated by Christians. I was educated in a Catholic school and went around with non-Muslim friends. Although I never understood Islam nor practiced its pillars, my father took me to the mosque for prayers every Friday. Still, I had grown accustomed to the worldly ways of my classmates.

‘Haram’

Realizing that I was not living up to the Islamic ideals, my father enrolled me at the University Training Center-Mindanao State University in Marawi, Lanao del Sur province. I had a difficult time readjusting to the culture. I defied my father by coming home late, spending nights at discos and coming home drunk. These were considered haram, activities forbidden by Islamic law.

After graduating from college, I decided to go to Manila to take up a second college course and be in a new environment. I never got to finish my mass communications course as I was lured by work. There was a teaching job at the Montessori School in Pasay City. I also worked for Senator Mamintal Tamano, organizing youth movements. Our staff was later absorbed by Sen. Rodolfo Biazon and eventually, then Vice President Gloria Arroyo.

On the side, I enjoyed doing lifestyle projects such as being a consultant on Muslim wear for Pitoy Moreno’s bridal book, “Kasalan,” and managing models. Meanwhile, my evenings were wasted on clubbing, drinking and being rowdy.

When my father died, I realized that he had passed on the Islamic faith which I never embraced.

The turning point came last year when I met up with Regional Gov. Mujiv Hataman of the Autonomous Region of Muslim Mindanao (ARMM) in Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia. He asked if I was interested in doing the one-month hajj, since the ARMM gave slots to help Muslims strengthen their faith.
I spent sleepless nights asking myself if I was ready for something genuine, but I needed inner strength. My best friend, Congresswoman Bai Sandra Sema of Maguindanao, nudged me and said, “It’s your calling.” She gave some travel allowance as part of her charity in encouraging Muslims.

It took courage and fortitude to endure a monthlong sacrifice as I, like millions of Muslims, retraced the Prophet Muhammad’s journey to the Medina, Mecca and other holy sites. As we approached the Meeqat, the place around Mecca, we set our intention for the pilgrimage.

From the start of the hajj, the men were dressed in white sheets, called ihram, while the women covered their heads and bodies. The simplicity and uniformity of the ihram overcame any differences among us.

Every day, I woke up at 2:30 a.m. to prepare for the 4:30 a.m. prayer at the Masjid Al-Haram or Grand Mosque, the center of worship.

Initially, I felt inadequate for not knowing the prayers, being illiterate about Arabic and the rituals of the hajj. The insecurity was finally overcome by the powerful atmosphere of millions of Muslims remembering God, Allah, with sincerity.

The pilgrimage rites consist of a week of rituals in Medina, the first tawaf or circumambulation around the Kaaba or The House of Allah seven times. The black stone at the center of the Grand Mosque marks the day when Prophet Muhammad gave his final sermon on the first-ever hajj. He stopped at Muzdalifa to gather pebbles, performing ramy al-jamarat, a symbolic stoning of the devil.

Repelling evil spirits

Before we went back to Mecca, we performed the Jamarat, the rite of hurling stones at three pillars near Jamarat Bridge. This symbolized repelling evil spirits or our inner demons. This was done for three days, until we returned for a last series of rounds at the Kaaba.

On this pilgrimage, what I saw and experienced forced me to change many of my previously held thought patterns. This was not too difficult for me; I have always faced facts and accepted the reality of life with every new experience and new knowledge. I have always kept an open mind, which is necessary to the flexibility that must go hand in hand with every form of intelligent search for truth.

The hajj experience must extend the message of equality beyond the Muslim community. Humanity is diverse but united. Even among Muslims, the hajj may fortify consciousness, but it simultaneously reflects the variants within the larger, unified community; the Muslim community is in itself also richly heterogeneous.

The pilgrimage was the great equalizer. I was inspired by old people, persons with disability and children showing the same genuine devotion. People set aside social status, education and nationality. I felt that I belonged to a spiritual family.

I shaved my head, a tradition after the hajj, and went back to Manila transformed. Since then, I have been diligent in praying five times a day and using the Quran as my moral compass.

I have given up drinking and clubbing. Close friends noticed the change. I was no longer moody or difficult, especially after a hangover. My worldly desires have been controlled. When temptation sets in, my conscience warns me. I feel God’s protection. Money and health were saved tremendously. The Quran made me understand the meaning of brotherhood; I don’t see any barriers in religion.

In this fasting month of Ramadan, I lived up to its traditions: I ate and drank at suhoor, the meal before dawn. I avoided temptation of food and drink all day until iftar, or sunset. I broke the fast with dates and water and prayed the verses from the Koran, revealed by Allah to Prophet Muhammad.

My parents must be smiling now that I have cleaned up my life.

Tomorrow, we end Ramadan with Eid al-Fitr. In this festival of breaking the fast, those who abstained are rewarded by God. We donate to charity before the Eid prayer and greet each other “Mubarak Eid.” For me, it’s about happy new beginnings. —CONTRIBUTED