By Ayat Al-Khatib, writer and journalist at Karbala TV Channel
If I wanted to write about what my eyes have witnessed of moments and stances during the sacred ritual of the Arbaeen pilgrimage, my mind would wander, and my memory would falter: which stories to recount, and which moments to remember? Over the past years, I have woven a mental tapestry of many unique and diverse situations, both positive and negative.
This walk and journey toward the compass of Karbala—the site of the sacrifice of the Master of Martyrs—emanates from a deeply rooted impulse that is ingrained in the veins and embedded in the depths of the soul. It manifests as an annual act of loyalty, embodied in one of two forms: as a visitor or as a servant.
What compelled me most to write these humble words is the richness of the souls that I encountered on the path of Hussain. How many families and processions have set up with abundant blessings, offering all that is delightful and nourishing, despite living in hardship and poverty? Yet, God enriched them with the love of Hussain (peace be upon him), and one wonders from what divine bounty all these blessings flow, enabling them to give so generously and prioritize others, even if they themselves are in need.
My amazement and admiration for this group, joyful in their love for Hussain both in this world and the hereafter, are no less than my feelings toward an elderly woman who, despite her advanced age, endures hardship to prepare meals and fresh bread for the visitors of Abu Abdullah. It is as though all health and vitality have blossomed in the autumn of her life. She offers you her sweet words, quenches your thirst with her advice laced with love, and then hands you provisions for the journey, adorned with prayers and encouragement to continue your walk.
She plants within your spirit the strength to anticipate what lies ahead on your journey: a mute person whose actions speak louder than words as they invite you to a table set in the love of Hussain; children rushing to quench your thirst with their small hands’ offerings; a disabled person, whose wheelchair moves toward you, boosting your determination to persist; and then, from afar, you hear the voice of an elderly man, weary from time, calling out, “Welcome, pilgrim... Tea of Abu Ali, pilgrim.” This elderly man awaits your arrival so you may sip another cup, adding it to the list of the righteous deeds of Hussain's servants.
This is what I witnessed on the path of the Arbaeen pilgrimage.