By Jean Yuan
On a 7 am flight from Tehran to Kermanshah on November 6, it suddenly dawned on me that I knew virtually nothing about Karbala as a city, beyond the fact that the town itself had sprung up at the site of Imam Hussein’s (A.S.) death [martyrdom] in a battle against the then ruling Umayyad dynasty.
I had only just managed to secure a pilgrimage visa to Iraq the afternoon before, and with a rough plan in my head hastily set out for what would turn out to be a once in a lifetime experience. I went with an open mind with no expectations of neither the place, knowing that Iraq has been ravaged by war over the last 15 years, nor the pilgrimage itself save tales of unrelenting crowds and potential health hazards along the way.
The idea of going on the pilgrimage came to me a few years ago while reading about it in my unexciting office job. After having lived and studied in Tehran for the last 14 months, this trip would enhance my understanding of Shi’a Islam and the central role Imam Hussein (A.S.) plays in the ideology of the Islamic Republic as well as for the more than 200 million Shi’a Muslims worldwide.
Even disguised in a black chador (Iranian female attire), I stood out conspicuously at the Iran/Iraq Mehran border crossing [western Iran] with tens of thousands of other Iranians also headed for the pilgrimage. My presence caused confusion amongst the defense force personnel, with some simply checking my passport out of curiosity.
Security was intense; the presence of the Islamic Revolution Guards and all manners of the IRI security force, along with helicopters and armoured vehicles was a sight to behold. After almost 3 hours of walking and going through passport control, Iraq greeted me with a fresh round of security check, this time staffed by women in chador chattering away in Arabic instead of Farsi.
Walking into Iraq at dusk, one is immediately struck by the blowing dust, creating an almost see-through wall that clouds the sky. Our bus pulled into Najaf at almost midnight, and standing on the back of a pick-up truck we were driven to a camp just outside of the city where other pilgrims were housed for the night. The temporary camp constructed out of plastic sheets housed around 30 Afghan women and me.
As I went to sleep exhausted from the long day, I was struck by the fact that despite this being a women’s only camp, none had taken off their head coverings and they all went to sleep in the chador. Sometime around 4 am, the voice of a man mourning the death of Imam Hussein started to come through emphatically from industrial grade speakers inside the camp. And with that, my fellow travellers rose sleepily at dawn and set out for the 2-hour walk to the shrine of Imam Ali (A.S.), the father of Imam Hussein.
Najaf was once the beacon of Shi’a learning in the world, hosting Ayatollahs and Grand Ayatollahs of legendary calibre, including Grand Ayatollah Borujerdi, Grand Ayatollah Al-Sistani and of course the founding father of the Islamic Republic of Iran, Ayatollah [Imam] Khomeini.
As I walked through the city, I was struck by availability of free food, chai [tea], water and fruit at every turn and couldn’t help but wonder how a city is able not only accommodate more than 20 million people that descend on it every year, but also to provide free food and accommodations for every single one of them. The degree of organization and demand on infrastructure on a country like Iraq must be substantial, and yet the people openly welcome pilgrims with generosity and warmth.
Many of the chai and food stalls for pilgrims were manned by young boys who teased each other and enthusiastically handed out food to pilgrims, marking Arbaeen as an annual event that mobilizes the whole community. By the next day, I had found that the best time for walking was early mornings and evenings, despite it being November, southern Iraq can still hit above 30 degrees during the day, which makes walking in the sun wearing a chador a rather unpleasant experience.
My experience of living in Iran tells me that most of the women have been wearing a chador in high heats of the summer their entire lives and so maybe better adapted to such an environment.
And although compulsory hejab in Iraq is not enforced, unlike Iran, I did not see a single woman without the chador the entirety of the journey, given the particularly religious nature of the places as some of the most holy cities in Shi’a Islam.
The walk itself was rather like an 80 km street fair, accompanied by music, food, drinks and flags of different countries from Lebanon to Azerbaijan, and Malaysia were visible. And although there’s an overwhelming Iranian presence, the pilgrimage marks an annual event that gathers the international Shi’a community, presenting a sense of solidarity that transcends nationality and language. Many of the attendees were first time pilgrims like me, for others, it was their fourth or fifth time. And although many, if not most, were devout believers, there were also people who simply wanted to be in the holy presence of the imams.
My presence on the journey was often a conversation starter with people, as it was very strange that a Farsi-speaking Chinese/Australian would be interested in participating in this pilgrimage. They often asked me where I was from, where I learned to speak Farsi, why I chose to go to Iran and at times even asking me if I knew Imam Hussein. One night while waiting for my kebab, the middle aged Iraqi seller asked me if I was a Muslim, unsure of his reactions and conscious of my surroundings, I hesitated for a second before answering no. He simply gave a friendly nod at my response.
Neither of my previous visits to the shrine of Imam Reza (eighth imam) in Mashad [capital of Iran’s North Khorasan Province] nor to Imam Ali had prepared me for the magnitude and the sheer number of people I found myself amongst at the shrine of Imam Hussein (A.S.). The back-to-back crowds extended to every street surrounding the shrine and transformed what would normally be an open public space into a claustrophobic death trap that is almost insufferable. Entering the women’s section of the inner most chamber of Imam Hussein’s (A.S.) shrine, loud cries of ‘Ya Hussein’ in unison took my breath away for a second as I imagined this to be one of the most holy and important moments for the life of a Shi’a Muslim, to be able to touch, kiss, cry and talk to one of the most revered figures in Shi’a Islam.
I was moved by the ecstasy of the crowd, realizing truly for the first time that the Imamate is real and alive in the hearts and minds of religious Shi’a Muslims for which they travel from all over the region despite hardship to be in the presence of the holy Imams. Their sense of injustice for Imam Hussein, destined to be martyred as foretold by the Prophet Muhammad (Peace Be Upon Him) himself, serving as a symbol against oppression and beacon of justice, mixed with the grievances of everyday life filled the space with a powerful sense of transcendence and emotions.
While Shi’a Muslims have been making the Arbaeen pilgrimage since the death [martyrdom] of Imam Hussein (A.S.) in 680 CE, the modern version of the pilgrimage re-started in earnest following the fall of Saddam Hussein and the stabilization of the security situation in Iraq.
The growing number of pilgrims every year testifies to the re-assertion of solidarity of the international Shi’a community especially as a religious minority in every country except for Iran and Iraq; their dominant ideological narrative has been based on oppression against injustice.
After only five days I came back mentally and physically exhausted from the cognitive and sensory overload and the perpetual lack of rest. I’m now more than ever conscious of the potential power of the Shi’a narrative. Given the current sectarian tensions in the region, greater participation by non-Shi’a and non-Muslims on this pilgrimage would help boost mutual understanding across religious sects in the same way that it currently bridges barrier between Shi’a Muslims of different countries. In the words of the famous Sufi poet Rumi, ‘pilgrimage to the place of wise is to find escape from the flame of separateness.’
*Chinese/Australian Masters student in Iranian Studies at the University of Tehran.
Sep 22 2020
Between two Imams, an outsider’s experience of the Arbaeen pilgrimage
By Jean Yuan
On a 7 am flight from Tehran to Kermanshah on November 6, it suddenly dawned on me that I knew virtually nothing about Karbala as a city, beyond the fact that the town itself had sprung up at the site of Imam Hussein’s (A.S.) death [martyrdom] in a battle against the then ruling Umayyad dynasty.
I had only just managed to secure a pilgrimage visa to Iraq the afternoon before, and with a rough plan in my head hastily set out for what would turn out to be a once in a lifetime experience. I went with an open mind with no expectations of neither the place, knowing that Iraq has been ravaged by war over the last 15 years, nor the pilgrimage itself save tales of unrelenting crowds and potential health hazards along the way.
The idea of going on the pilgrimage came to me a few years ago while reading about it in my unexciting office job. After having lived and studied in Tehran for the last 14 months, this trip would enhance my understanding of Shi’a Islam and the central role Imam Hussein (A.S.) plays in the ideology of the Islamic Republic as well as for the more than 200 million Shi’a Muslims worldwide.
Even disguised in a black chador (Iranian female attire), I stood out conspicuously at the Iran/Iraq Mehran border crossing [western Iran] with tens of thousands of other Iranians also headed for the pilgrimage. My presence caused confusion amongst the defense force personnel, with some simply checking my passport out of curiosity.
Security was intense; the presence of the Islamic Revolution Guards and all manners of the IRI security force, along with helicopters and armoured vehicles was a sight to behold. After almost 3 hours of walking and going through passport control, Iraq greeted me with a fresh round of security check, this time staffed by women in chador chattering away in Arabic instead of Farsi.
Walking into Iraq at dusk, one is immediately struck by the blowing dust, creating an almost see-through wall that clouds the sky. Our bus pulled into Najaf at almost midnight, and standing on the back of a pick-up truck we were driven to a camp just outside of the city where other pilgrims were housed for the night. The temporary camp constructed out of plastic sheets housed around 30 Afghan women and me.
As I went to sleep exhausted from the long day, I was struck by the fact that despite this being a women’s only camp, none had taken off their head coverings and they all went to sleep in the chador. Sometime around 4 am, the voice of a man mourning the death of Imam Hussein started to come through emphatically from industrial grade speakers inside the camp. And with that, my fellow travellers rose sleepily at dawn and set out for the 2-hour walk to the shrine of Imam Ali (A.S.), the father of Imam Hussein.
Najaf was once the beacon of Shi’a learning in the world, hosting Ayatollahs and Grand Ayatollahs of legendary calibre, including Grand Ayatollah Borujerdi, Grand Ayatollah Al-Sistani and of course the founding father of the Islamic Republic of Iran, Ayatollah [Imam] Khomeini.
As I walked through the city, I was struck by availability of free food, chai [tea], water and fruit at every turn and couldn’t help but wonder how a city is able not only accommodate more than 20 million people that descend on it every year, but also to provide free food and accommodations for every single one of them. The degree of organization and demand on infrastructure on a country like Iraq must be substantial, and yet the people openly welcome pilgrims with generosity and warmth.
Many of the chai and food stalls for pilgrims were manned by young boys who teased each other and enthusiastically handed out food to pilgrims, marking Arbaeen as an annual event that mobilizes the whole community. By the next day, I had found that the best time for walking was early mornings and evenings, despite it being November, southern Iraq can still hit above 30 degrees during the day, which makes walking in the sun wearing a chador a rather unpleasant experience.
My experience of living in Iran tells me that most of the women have been wearing a chador in high heats of the summer their entire lives and so maybe better adapted to such an environment.
And although compulsory hejab in Iraq is not enforced, unlike Iran, I did not see a single woman without the chador the entirety of the journey, given the particularly religious nature of the places as some of the most holy cities in Shi’a Islam.
The walk itself was rather like an 80 km street fair, accompanied by music, food, drinks and flags of different countries from Lebanon to Azerbaijan, and Malaysia were visible. And although there’s an overwhelming Iranian presence, the pilgrimage marks an annual event that gathers the international Shi’a community, presenting a sense of solidarity that transcends nationality and language. Many of the attendees were first time pilgrims like me, for others, it was their fourth or fifth time. And although many, if not most, were devout believers, there were also people who simply wanted to be in the holy presence of the imams.
My presence on the journey was often a conversation starter with people, as it was very strange that a Farsi-speaking Chinese/Australian would be interested in participating in this pilgrimage. They often asked me where I was from, where I learned to speak Farsi, why I chose to go to Iran and at times even asking me if I knew Imam Hussein. One night while waiting for my kebab, the middle aged Iraqi seller asked me if I was a Muslim, unsure of his reactions and conscious of my surroundings, I hesitated for a second before answering no. He simply gave a friendly nod at my response.
Neither of my previous visits to the shrine of Imam Reza (eighth imam) in Mashad [capital of Iran’s North Khorasan Province] nor to Imam Ali had prepared me for the magnitude and the sheer number of people I found myself amongst at the shrine of Imam Hussein (A.S.). The back-to-back crowds extended to every street surrounding the shrine and transformed what would normally be an open public space into a claustrophobic death trap that is almost insufferable. Entering the women’s section of the inner most chamber of Imam Hussein’s (A.S.) shrine, loud cries of ‘Ya Hussein’ in unison took my breath away for a second as I imagined this to be one of the most holy and important moments for the life of a Shi’a Muslim, to be able to touch, kiss, cry and talk to one of the most revered figures in Shi’a Islam.
I was moved by the ecstasy of the crowd, realizing truly for the first time that the Imamate is real and alive in the hearts and minds of religious Shi’a Muslims for which they travel from all over the region despite hardship to be in the presence of the holy Imams. Their sense of injustice for Imam Hussein, destined to be martyred as foretold by the Prophet Muhammad (Peace Be Upon Him) himself, serving as a symbol against oppression and beacon of justice, mixed with the grievances of everyday life filled the space with a powerful sense of transcendence and emotions.
While Shi’a Muslims have been making the Arbaeen pilgrimage since the death [martyrdom] of Imam Hussein (A.S.) in 680 CE, the modern version of the pilgrimage re-started in earnest following the fall of Saddam Hussein and the stabilization of the security situation in Iraq.
The growing number of pilgrims every year testifies to the re-assertion of solidarity of the international Shi’a community especially as a religious minority in every country except for Iran and Iraq; their dominant ideological narrative has been based on oppression against injustice.
After only five days I came back mentally and physically exhausted from the cognitive and sensory overload and the perpetual lack of rest. I’m now more than ever conscious of the potential power of the Shi’a narrative. Given the current sectarian tensions in the region, greater participation by non-Shi’a and non-Muslims on this pilgrimage would help boost mutual understanding across religious sects in the same way that it currently bridges barrier between Shi’a Muslims of different countries. In the words of the famous Sufi poet Rumi, ‘pilgrimage to the place of wise is to find escape from the flame of separateness.’
*Chinese/Australian Masters student in Iranian Studies at the University of Tehran.
By english • Shia converts magazine • 0 • Tags: Arbaeen pilgrimage, experience of the Arbaeen, Jean Yuan, two Imams