Ashoura in Nabatiya

It is Ashoura today, a special day for the shia muslims, as today they commemorate the death of Hussein, grandson of the Prophet Mohammad, on the battlefield of Kerbala, Iraq. The death of Hussein was the beginning of the sunni/shia split, which continues in Islam to this day
It is a day of mourning in most of the shia populated regions around the Middle East. It usually involves processions and demonstrations.

In Nabatiya, in southern Lebanon, they celebrate it in an unusual way, complete with self-flagellation. It’s a bloody affair. And although it is supposed to be a sad day, there’s a twinge of festivity in the air.
Islam does not appreciate the spilling of blood, and in recent years, both the spiritual shia leader Fadlallah and Hezbollah leader Hassan Nasrallah, have issued bans on this type of commemoration. But as it has become more of a culture tradition for the young men rather than a religious one, it seems to be too difficult too root out. You do not see many older guy in the processions, and most defenitely no women.

Hezbollah has organized blood banks, in order to persuade the crowd to donate blood instead of just wasting it, and although this system seems to be working in the Hezbollah controlled southern-suburbs, here in Nabatiya the people are more free spirited.

The thing to do is (if you are male and between 17 and 35) to wear something white, go the mosque and get someone with a razorblade to tap you on the fore head two or three times. The subsequent cut will start to bleed, and you must then walk a tour through town, will hitting you head (otherwise the blood will cloth and the bleeding will stop), meanwhile calling out Hussein’s name. You do that in groups, with first-aid personnel walking by the side for any fainters. There were not many this time, it’s a lot worse during summer.

I enjoy going there during Ashoura, much to the disgust of just about everyone I know. “Yeeeeh, are you going there, with those people,” is one remark you get, “they are like barbarians there.” But even among many shia, the tradition is not looked upon favorably. “It’s a waste of blood,” said one man I talked to, “this is against our religion.”

But I like watching it. It has something medieval, something very historical (although I can’t found out since when they have been celebrating it this way in Nabatiya).
So here are some pictures for your enjoyment. If you can’t stomach blood, I suggest you surf on.

It starts early in the morning, and around 9 o’clock there are already many people in town. Everyone walks around with massive blades like this. No incidents of knifing though are reported. The only time it ever went wrong was when the Israelis in 1982 decided to drive through the procession with their tanks. That did not go down very well, I understand.
The little kids go early. Yes, you have kids as little as 2, 3 years old. This mom makes a picture while they are still white. It is not necessary to be bleeding. Just hitting the head suffices, but the majority goes for the bloodletting part.
As the morning proceeds, it gets busier and busier, and bloodier and bloodier.
This particular one was mesmerized by the blood on his hands. He kept turning them and looking at them while his dad bandaged his head. He was done for the day.
They move in groups, separated by stretcher bearers. There does not seem to be some type of organization behind this, it looks as if it is a spontaneous manifestation, but somehow there is order in it. It is not one massive stream of bloody faces; they move in groups of up to 50 men, and there is space in between the different groups.
With every round, they return to the mosque, hang around a bit, and then move out again on the streets for another round.
Not everyone can stomach the smell of blood, which smells like faint iron (even though the guy has to carry the stretcher).
Just before noon is the high point; everyone is out now, and as bloody as can be.
There is some police presence, but overall you do not see a lot of police around the route they walk. I wonder what some of these policemen must think. Lebanon is a very segregated society in many ways, and christians from Jounieh would not set a foot here. And even if they are muslim, they may be sunni, and then again they’d have no reason to ever visit this shia-dominated town. So they may have never ever witnessed this before. One policeman I talked to seemed a bit flabbergasted. He didn’t know what to think of it. ‘Haram’, was all he could say. (Haram could be translated as ‘pity’, but also as ‘shame’)
The Red Cross people keep ‘em on their feet.
In France, in summer time, there are many towns and villages that stage medieval festivals, complete with medieval music, fighting knights and BBQ’s where entire pigs are grilled on a spit and you have to eat with your hands. I got reminded of that when I saw the BBQ with the BYO meat. I assume this is grilled lamb.
Meanwhile, on the village square, the local theater company (I’m making this up, but somebody has been rehearsing here) is presenting the ‘Battle of Kerbela’, where Hussein and family finally meet their tragic (and gruesome) end.
In case you are wondering why most people are in black; it’s a mourning.
These guys are resting in the mosque entrée, drinking juice and smoking a cigarette. Meanwhile the mosque is just about overrunning with blood. This is what upsets Hezbollah greatly, but they are not the once who are in charge here. The push it out onto the streets.
And then they get to go back home with their girls.

This year no Hezbollah participation. When they get down to business, there's this blanket that descends upon the town. End of the fun.