The Wayward Orientalist: Ashoura

On Monday, late at night, as most of my stories seem to unfold, I received one of these spontaneous propositions for an adventure that pop up every now and again since I have come to Lebanon:

"Come with us to the South to see the Ashoura celebrations in Nabatiye tomorrow morning!"

What's a girl to do? I went home... packed a toothbrush, my glasses and laptop (because I am a very responsible grad student--Papa, Maman si vous lisez ceci) and hopped into my friend Kh.'s car for another Janub trip.

Quick Wiki moment:
Ashoura is one of the Shi'a Muslim high holidays. It is in remembrance of the death of Husayn, the grandson of Prophet Muhammad, on the tenth day of the battle of Karbala in 680 CE (or 60 After Hijra, during the month of Muharram), which opposed Husayn's handful of followers against the army of Caliph Yazid.

Child dressed in black for Ashoura, carrying a flag with a
portrait of Husayn

Ashoura is a day of mourning for Shi'as, and many typically honor this day by wearing black. However, some Shi'as perform tatbir, a practice involving hitting oneself on the head repeatedly with the flat side of a sword's blade, drawing blood, or hitting one's back with chains. This act of grief is forbidden in many countries, and has been called haram by some Shi'a scholars, but the practice is still legal in Lebanon.

(Warning: Pictures involving large amounts of blood below the fold.)

Early on Tuesday morning, the streets were already crowded in Nabatiye. Many were already saving themselves seats in the small stadium next to the mosque in anticipation for the re-enactment of the battle of Karbala, complete with camels, horses and a fake Kaaba. On loudspeakers, the muezzin was recounting the story of Husayn, occasionally breaking out into sobs in the middle of his narrative.

View of the entrance of the mosque of Nabatiye

Many were headed to the mosque next door, preparing for tatbir. I didn't actually enter the mosque, but one of my friends was closer, and said some have the initial cut to the top of their head done on the mosque steps. The mourners then exit the mosque, hitting their heads repeatedly with the palm of their hand, or with swords, chanting "Haydar," one of the names of Ali, the first imam in Shi'aism. According to my friend Kh., during the Israeli occupation of the South of Lebanon, many Shi'as were arrested by Israelis during Ashoura and were asked who exactly was this Haydar person, and where he was hiding.

Marching down the street, chanting"Haydar"

Those who perform tatbir wear a white cloth, meant to evoke a shroud. While most of the people doing tatbir are men, there were many teenagers and children as well. While I am loathe to describe anything as a proof of manliness, you could definitely read pride, whether in the eyes of the teens, adults or six-year-olds, to be doing tatbir, and of how much blood they shed.

Child eating cotton candy after performing tatbir

While I didn't see very many, some women also perform tatbir, and were bloodied as much, if not more, than the men.

Woman performing tatbir

Elderly woman in tatbir garb.

This was a very strange experience. I have never in my life seen as much blood as I saw that day, and yet, it didn't make me as queasy as I expected it would. The experience was just too unreal to fully realize what was happening. There is also a vast difference between seeing this amount of blood in the context of a war or a horrific accident, and knowing that this is something people are doing willingly and is, I was told, not as painful as it looks.

Not anything I could imagine myself doing, but I have to respect the guts that it takes.

Sponging up blood after tatbir.
The tattoo on his biceps reads "Mom I don't forget you, Mom please forgive me"

While the smell of so much blood was not as overpowering as I thought it would be, it did leave a vague ferruginous taste in the back of my mouth at every inhalation. The worst part for me was having to jump over puddles of blood streaming down the street.

It is worthwhile to note that while a couple thousands perform tatbir in Nabatiye, an equal number of people follow the recommendations of ayatollahs Khomeini and Fadlallah and donate blood instead. It was definitely one of the things I stupidly kept thinking of, seeing all this blood spilled on the streets (that, and the really sucky laundry day that was sure to follow). Those who didn't draw blood could still join the marching, hitting their foreheads or chests with the palms of their hands.

Finally, around 11 a.m., the play started. At this point, the stadium was completely packed. Most people in attendance knew the story by heart, but it remains a tradition to attend. The story of Ashoura is really tragic, and I think it does explain a lot of the particular mentality of Shi'aism. With the story of Husayn comes a certain sense of the importance of sacrifice, up to and including death, for a just cause, a mentality which I think has particular resonance in South Lebanon with regards to Israel.