Muharram

 

“What about the Shia?” I asked.

“Beware of the Shia.” The woman replied. “They hit and cut themselves, and they worship their imams.” She showed a gruesome video to prove her point. Then she said, “they are not real Muslims. Even though they say they are, they are not.”

Wait a minute, I thought to myself. This is Islam…

I heard that Muslims are not allowed to curse other Muslims…

The Quran says:

“Do not consider any of the Muslims as being insignificant, since in the eyes of Allah (that person whom you consider as being insignificant) actually has a high rank. Chapter 49 – Surah al-Hujurat – Part 7

This passage of the Quran calls Muslims to uphold the idea that “God is the only judge” , and they should respect each other and other religions too.

Sadly, people are mean, even though most religions are supposed to be very tolerant. I remember the preacher at my Baptist Church voicing his concern about the growing number of mosques. He put together a presentation of various locations he had traveled to show that mosques outnumbered churches. I also remember a time when a church in my community gave a series of sermons to their congregation about Islam. Naturally, I told my Muslim friend to go and speak. Sure enough, the church declined to hear her point of view. They wanted to learn about Islam from their own skewed perspective, rather than speaking to a real Muslim about Islam.

Naturally, when I heard this woman’s comment I did an about-face. I stopped hanging out with these close-minded people, and I made an effort to meet more Muslims of different sects. I had “mainstream” Sunni and Shia friends, an Ibadi classmate, and a Sufi coworker. Each individual was very vocal about their unique “sect” but promoted unity between the groups. Most of them told me, if I were to convert to Islam, to not follow a sect.

One day, I visited an Iraqi family in Indianapolis, and it was during the first week of Muharram. As I walked towards the home, I smelled the strong smell of onions cooking. When I entered the garage, I saw the father, or “Sayyed” as he was called, frying onions in a very, very large pot. He was making a rice dish to bring to the Matem (Shia community center) later in the evening.

Inside, I met his wife and daughter. They invited my curiosity and shared with me the importance of mourning in the month of Muharram, primarily the ten days leading up to Ashura.  Ashura is the tenth day of the Islamic month and it’s when family members of the Prophet Muhammed were tragically slaughtered in Karbala, Iraq. I left their house equipped with a special stone for praying, called a Turbah, which is made out of mud from Karbala.

I attended three gatherings that week at the community center. First, I attended a lecture in English and then another in Arabic.  When I went downstairs for the lecture in Arabic, there were no lights. The small space was very crowded with women and men in black. The men and women were separated by a partition. A man’s voice was amplified and he began to solemnly sing a melody which filled the room. Many women hid their faces and began to weep. They cried as if they had just lost someone very close to them.

There was a procession that followed where the women around me gathered in a circle to perform Azaa, which is a ritual of hitting the chests in remembrance of the Martyrs who died in Karbala. The room was full of variety, some were hitting their chests quite dramatically, others were lightly tapping, and others were sitting quietly.

Wow, I thought to myself. This is amazing. This happens right here in America. Some people think that America is uniform and has one religion and one kind of people, but you can find everything. 

We are now in the month of Muharram and I am in Bahrain (where about 60 percent of the population is Shia).

I decided to go with a friend of mine to see what was happening in Manama, the Capital. He led me through dark and narrow streets towards the center. As we continued walking, I noticed green and black banners suspended over the streets. I felt the sound of drums beating in my chest.  I didn’t know what I was walking into. In some small way, I felt that I was going to a secret event. I felt like Harry Potter entering Diagon Alley*, except it wasn’t meant to be happy.

*Diagon Alley is a secret world for Wizards and it is accessible only through entering a brick wall behind a Pub Called the Leaky Cauldron in London, England:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z-WEzhyc3DY

 

During the ten days of Muharram, the Capital city of Manama transforms.  I saw art galleries with paintings by local artists that tell the story of Karbala, shops with merchandise like flags and jewelry that commemorate the Martyrs, and you can also see men performing Azaa, the expression of grief through hitting the chest or hitting the back with chains. That night, I saw many groups with their own form of expression, some more intense than others.

It was hot, sweat was poring out of me, and I felt a little disoriented. I knew that I was the only Western face in the crowd. One woman approached me and asked,

“Where are you from?”

“America” I said.

“Are you Muslim?” she asked.

I went around her question, and simply answered “I am here to learn about the story of Karbala.”

She responded, “Regardless if you’re Christian or Muslim, this story is for everyone.” She continued, “Imam Hussein sacrificed himself for all mankind.”

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I will let you see for yourself the difference between the first woman I wrote about and the last.

Sadly,  Shias are stigmatized because others do not agree with their rituals, although some are supportive. They are denied jobs (employers can often tell if a person is Shia by their name),  and they sometimes have to hide religious symbols in public (like the sword necklace of Imam Hussein) because it can be dangerous. One of my colleagues at school  told me that her Shia students were “Actually, really smart.” She felt the need to explain that they were smart, as if we did not know before.

It’s true. A very small group of men cut their heads open with swords on the morning of the 10th day of Muharram. It is really, really bloody. And yes, some also cut the heads of children and infants. No, it doesn’t only happen in the rural villages of Pakistan, it happens in big cities, in developed countries. It is very difficult for an outsider to understand, and there have been discussions about eliminating this practice all together. If we look only at this event, called Haider in Arabic, without thinking of the the positive things that are happening during Ashura, we have failed. During Ashura people attend nightly lectures on topics such as manners and community, they cook generous amounts of food that is shared with the community, there are several plays and performances and poetry readings that share the message of Karbala, and some people even choose to donate blood or feed the poor.

I left Manama, feeling as if I just had entered a new world. “Well, this doesn’t happen in America,” I thought to myself.

But yes, it does! Maybe not to the same degree as in Bahrain, but there are groups in Chicago, Illinois and Dearborn, Michigan, and Indianapolis, Indiana doing the same thing!

Many white, Trump supporters in rural America, as well as other close-minded groups in other countries, often think that everyone does as they do. It is not true.

I left Manama with an Imam Ali sword necklace. When I wear it, I hope it reminds me to always to fight against any injustice I see. And most importantly, I hope it reminds me to always be aware of my own biases and fears.