Paper Cup

        By: Lynn Jefferies

Her bright face reached me from across the waves of restlessly sleeping women. Muffled by the storm of air coolers streaming out from the roof of the tent, her eyes met mine.

Quickly lifting up the orange and white thick paper cup she tilted it my way. Rushes of anxiety filled my body, my lips silently mouthed, "Oh no," as the hard realization hit me, my paper cup had been thrown out while I was sleeping last night.

Surveying the crevasses between my royal blue backpack and my small brown and cream colored mat, it was simple, the paper cup was nowhere to be found. In a silent fury I ripped open the sides of my back pack in a desperate search for anything that may resemble a cup.

I quickly glanced across the some fifty-five women sleeping to my old roommate from the hotel, thank Allah, she was still pinning her scarf on. Looking around me helplessly I knew that I was running out of time…Looking at my precious "slumber" buddies around me, a small smile slipped over my face.

Each one was so special: a bubbly Indian convert that radiated joy and happiness to everyone, oozing with faith. I only needed to see her bright eyes and I felt a love for Allah leap into my heart.

Another was an Indonesian nurse whose Qatari sponsor had flown her mother and father to join her on an all-expense-paid trip to Hajj and Madina. Her mother's petit little face shown as she slept peacefully with her pink prayer top held firmly by ruffled cream elastic. Her daughter the strong one, the one who made it to Qatar to earn a living for her mother and father, put all her sisters and brothers through school.