born 1976, political Scientist and freelance journalist
[25/02/2010]
Men beating their heads with swords while they wail and jump rhythmically; children imitating them. Blood gushing out. This is the nearly monolithic vision of the ritual of the first dawn of the Ashura that we have in the West. We have to give color, specially blood red, to the news. If it is apparently irrational, savage, violent and radical, as well as Muslim, we are interested. Because it sells. Even though it might not correspond with reality.
The same is applicable to the nine bombs that have exploded in Baghdad in the past five days, it is news for all the media, even without any material witnesses. And even if those of us walking around the city have not heard them because Baghdad is an enormous city in which hundreds of stories happen simultaneously. Of all these stories, we always hear the same one, repeated ad nauseam, with minor variations, about the number of people killed and where did the attack take place. Places that hardly mean anything to us. Systematically attributed to the macguffin of terrorism. Dead people? It's Al Qaeda's doing. Even if in Iraq there are dozens of different groups ready to send their militants to martyrdom. Quantity journalism. Repetitive. Without any presence on the spot and without any questions on the daily life of the population and their manifold initiatives, all these little stories that are only fitted in when there is some space left or when someone realizes that it has been months since the reality of the country has been mentioned.
The Al Khadam Mosque is the third most sacred sanctuary for the Shiites in Iraq, after Najaf and Karbala. It is within the old district of Al Khadamiye, at the end of an old avenue, absolutely bursting with people. Protected, as mentioned before, by three levels of walls and security railings, the police and the army. Tonight is the tenth night of the Musharram and long processions are held. They are the same processions as the ones I have seen rehearsed from Basra to Baghdad and in the city itself for the past 48 hours.
Zaid Al Wardi, my host, is a Computer Science professor in the Al Mustansiriya University and the owner of a clothes shop in the district. He has started to show me the genealogical tree of his family. Zaid belongs to the 38th generation of direct descendants of the Imam Hussein, established in Khadamiye for centuries. Despite his personal lack of religious faith, he is totally up to date on all the religious debates. By now, all the neighborhood knows that Zaid has invited a foreign journalist to take part in the celebrations and that he goes around with one of his employees, Ali. A priviliged access has been gained. Not only to the processions, even to the inside of the mosque. With all the security that the inhabitants of this district can provide. The agreement specifies that the blood in the processions must not be filmed. The camera must be stopped when the blood starts to flow from the heads of the faithful of the four brotherhoods who follow this rite. Because this is the reality negotiated with the families who keep the peace in Khadamiye. This is the news here. They want to avoid blood being the iconic image of the Ashura. Any editor would fire me upon knowing that while the blood flows as required, I put my camera away as a sign of respect for those surrounding me.
Only four brotherhoods, among the more than 30 present in Khadamiye these days, will spill their blood at the break of dawn when, after long hours of preparation and parade, the ceremonies of the Ashura, commemorating the martyrdom of Imam Hussein, after two weeks, will reach their end. Shortly before participating in the last sunrise I have witnessed a debate between Shiite clerics and the faithful on the use of blood, and also of an alternative and interesting approach. Many are in favor of banning its use, at least in public, as a first step towards total prohibition. In Iran the celebrations are already indoors. In Iraq, according to Zaid, the blood rituals are living their last year in public and they certainly are not recorded. Even if you can still see them.
That same afternoon, in one of the dozens of marquees -Maukeeb- established by each brotherhood, the recurrent question is once again asked. One of those present asks the cleric who is giving a religious lesson, "Are we -the Muslims- allowed to beat our body with swords?". And the cleric answers with a telling silence. "Why do you not answer?" He insists. "Because Ali Sistani has not answered this question when it has been put to him". Ali Sistani, the senior member of the most important Shiite theological school in the world (in Najaf), is the supreme authority in establishing doctrine. "Ali Sistani is in favor of banning the use of blood but he does not have enough authority to pronounce a fatwa -an Islamic edict of mandatory observance- regulating it" according to Zaid's -and his family's- opinion.
I look for blood among the thousands (about 10.000) of participants. I would say no more than 500 (being generous) beat their previously shaven heads with swords. The state of trance they reach before this is imposing. Hardly an hour goes by from the moment the blood, covering their white tunics, starts flowing until the end of the ritual. Some of them faint. This is obviously a consequence of fatigue rather than pain. The cuts are superficial and they are thoroughly rehearsed and studied in order to avoid any harm other than minor scars. The rest of the people, an immense majority, use chains hanging from a stick in order to flog their own backs. I cannot help linking this image with the Easter celebrations in Spain, not many years ago. The assistants rhythmically beat their chests. The women cry. With tears and the same feeling you would find in someone singing a devotional song from a balcony in the Easter processions in Seville. As a counterpoint to the last and most impressive of these celebrations, I try to comprehend everything I have witnessed in the last few days.
During the year, the brotherhoods collect money to finance their marquees, placed in every street. In these marquees they cook for days the food that will be given out to the pilgrims. Tea is offered to the passers-by and Islamic lessons are given to men, women and children. In these sessions, those present ask the clerics without any restraint all kinds of questions about their faith. It is a moment of special vitality for the community hosting the celebrations in a culture in which night life is seriously limited. The streets are bustling until very late at night, with men and women alike, with the only limitation of the modesty of the local culture. Whole families walk around the stalls, eating and drinking. They talk among themselves. The people crowd the sidewalks watching the rehearsals of the last big celebration and there are eye-catching theatrical performances in the street. Boys and youngsters dressed up with sumptuous uniforms, symbolizing the clashing armies in the battle prior to Hussein's murder. There are horses with their best regalia and the best Islamic actors performing in the streets the various roles of the drama with imposing trumpets and drums. The Ashura, seen from within, is much more than spilling blood.