Personal trek, with millions

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Instead, he and his wife, Ellen Hajjali, returned home to Altadena a few weeks ago to minimal fanfare, and he was back at work the next day. He didn't last long.

A construction engineer helping remodel the neonatal wing of a hospital in Torrance, he was coughing so much that his co-workers sent him home. How to explain that he was still fending off the severe chest cold known as the hajj flu?

But how to explain what it's like when 2.3 million people gather, as Ellen put it, at the House of Allah?

"It's impossible to explain what you get out of it," Raef said.

Raef and Ellen Hajjali were among about 40 Southern California Muslims who traveled in December to perform the exacting rituals of the hajj, the pilgrimage to Mecca that is the pinnacle of an observant Muslim's life.

The pilgrims' leader, Imam Moustafa Al-Qazwini, told them in November that they would be embarking on an "amazing journey." Now, back home, having had months to reflect, the pilgrims say the journey was more rewarding and punishing, more joyful and miserable than they could have imagined.

In the midst of the hajj, several pilgrims wondered why nobody had told them it would be so difficult. Several had attended weekly "hajj lessons" at the Islamic Educational Center in Costa Mesa, but they still weren't prepared for the raucous crowds, the hours of trudging through the desert on blistered feet, the mayhem that pushed them to their physical limits.

The chaos followed one of the truly peaceful moments on the pilgrimage, the noon-to-sunset vigil on Mt. Arafat that is the centerpiece of the hajj. During the vigil, each hajji, as pilgrims are called, speaks directly to God -- confessing sins, asking forgiveness and seeking a clean slate for the future.

Islamic practice places a premium on group worship. Praying at the mosque, shoulder to shoulder in tight lines, is preferable to praying at home. But on Arafat pilgrims interact with God as they wish.

Many hajjis climbed the rough slopes of the Mountain of Mercy -- where tradition holds that Muhammad gave his last major sermon -- spread their hands and gazed skyward, some in tears. Others, including Ellen, ran down lists of friends and family, quietly praying for each person's health and safety.

As night fell and the vigil ended Dec. 18, the hajjis had to travel about five miles to the desert plain of Muzdalifa to gather pebbles for the most dangerous part of the hajj, a ritual known as the Stoning of the Devil.

Things fell apart quickly. The buses chartered by the Costa Mesa pilgrims left late and then came to a standstill with thousands of other overloaded vehicles, many with hajjis perched on the roofs or clinging to the sides. Raef was among those on the roof of a bus, but after about six hours stuck on the roof in traffic, he and a few dozen others set off on foot.

"So we did start walking, and after four or five hours, we got there at 4:30 in the morning, which was about prayer time," Raef recalled. "Nobody had time to take any naps. We had been up for a couple of days."

After prayers, the group began another walk of about five miles to Mina, site of the stoning. Raef had not seen his wife for hours and became concerned. He did not know she was still trapped miles behind on a bus with other female pilgrims.

It took Raef, 51, several hours to hike to the valley of Mina. The ritual is based on the tale of Abraham throwing stones to ward off Satan, who was urging him to defy God's order to sacrifice his son.

Mina was a place many pilgrims had been dreading. The mass deaths that periodically strike the hajj almost always happen there. The dangers inherent when millions of people attempt to perform the same rites at the same time are so well known that the pilgrims followed advice in their hajj class and made wills before leaving home. After a stampede in 2004 that killed 251 hajjis, the Saudi authorities remade the Mina complex into something resembling a multistory parking garage. Three stone pillars symbolizing Satan were replaced by large walls that could be approached from each of three floors.

Chaos persisted, despite the changes. Hajjis shoved and jostled to get near the walls. Those near the front of the crowd were pelted by badly aimed pebbles thrown from the back.

Many of the hajjis acted as if Satan really were before them, violently attacking the walls with rocks, sandals and verbal abuse.