I Was Saddams Prisoner
Chapter Eighteen
Misfortune seems to have descended like a whirlwind upon Najaf, Kerbala
and other Holy cities. Where are those glorious days when the sacred
Shrines teemed with visiting pilgrims, and the small winding streets
leading to numerous Mosques and Madressas were full of religious
students and Ulema? These Holy places are now deserted, and the
Madressas have been reduced to destitution and rubble. Most of the
foreign students have been expelled, and the Ulema have either been
banished or eliminated.
Many would testify that these religious cities and their Holy Shrines
provided an atmosphere so peaceful and pure, unsullied by the taint of
materialism and undue anxiety. I was here for Arbaeen, an event that
normally attracted nearly a million Zuwwar every year. I was surprised
to see very few Zuwwar this year. Instead of peace and tranquillity,
there was fear and uncertainty everywhere. No young faces in Haram,
except of those who were appointed by the authorities as spies and
informers.
Just as I entered the Shrine of Imam Hussein A.S., and stood near Habib
b. Mazahir’s Zareeh, a young man leapt from the left and demanded:
"Who took the photographs?"
"Photographs? Which photographs?" I expressed my total surprise and
ignorance. He regarded me threateningly and said:
"I saw a flash."
"I do not know. I do not have any camera on me," I said. He turned and
disappeared into the Haram. This unexpected encounter was enough to
unsettle me. In the evening, I was entering the courtyard of Hazrat
Abbas A.S. when I was suddenly stopped by a soldier:
"Where do you come from?"
I told him. With evident suspicion, he asked:
"Do you have Muslims in your country?"
"Yes, many of them," I replied.
Within the Haram very few Ulema could be seen. How could places, which
were virtually ruled by the clergy; where piety was the norm of life,
and the streets bustled with religious activities, fall victim to the
foul leprosy of nationalism, communism and other infamous ideologies?
The institutions and parties, which spawned them, were there since long;
probably the elements of complacency, decadence and tragic weakness
among those at the helm rendered the region unprepared for the onslaught
subsequently unleashed upon them.
The Holy Shrines are controlled by the Mukhaberat. Young security
officers, dressed in plain clothes, stand near the main entrance, near
the shoe keepers, at the gates, surrounding the Zareeh, under the arches
of the courtyard, near the Imam who is leading the prayers and at times,
next to you like an inseparable shadow.
In this third place of confinement a young Kurdish listened intently as
I conversed with Majid. Then warily he came near and whispered: "I have
a gift for you. Take this." He gave me two small green pieces of cloth
and said: "I am from Samarra, these are from Askariyyan." A God-sent
gift from an unknown quarter! But no sooner he did this, then the Haras
apprehended him. Reprimanding the young man, the Haras said: "You still
stick to these outmoded, obsolete baubles-you ignorant brute! Forget
these. Remember: ‘Ar-Risalatul Khalidah’, the everlasting message
of Arabism: wake up from your sleep!"