It’s a Small World

Thank goodness our hotel had beautiful clean bathrooms, as last night was the hour for our first fit of travel sickness. Apparently there’s some Iraqi germs we haven’t encountered before. The hotel had shared bathrooms, but as I was the only lady there I had one all to myself. It was maybe 5×5 with a squat pot, shower smack above it, and sink. To shower, you laid a board over the pot and stood on it. Worked excellent!

We ate some bread with cheese for breakfast, then headed back some hours to Najaf and Karbala, to tour some mosques. Hadaifa drives at a very sedate pace, so it took about double the time to get here as it could have. We stopped at a gas station to use the bathroom and the Women’s had a squat pot run over so there was an inch of you know what over the whole floor. It was pretty funny as several of us women gagged and grossed out and held our long skirts high in the sky. I decided to skip it and just left.

The landscape looks very barren here now, pretty much nothing but the occasional huge herd of camels or sheep. Sand is pushed up in windrows as far as you can see, presumably so the road doesn’t drift over.

It’s evening now, and the day is sort of a glittering, crowded blur in my mind. We went to four different shrines/mosque’s and it was slightly overwhelming. Holy day in the holiest cities in Iraq. I cannot believe we actually saw, heard and felt. It was totally beyond my wildest imaginations.

There’s large thoroughfares leading to the mosques that are lined with vendors and crowded with people, bikes, pushcarts carrying Grandma, and the occasional bus. A ways before reaching the mosque we have to go through the first set of security. The men go to their entrance and I go find the little curtained entrance into the women’s security. It’s usually pretty relaxed in there, with women hanging out, chatting, arranging their scarves and sometimes even cooking over little stoves. At this point I must have my head fully covered and almost no skin showing on my legs. You get a friendly frisking, your purse gets searched, and you are warmly welcomed to Iraq. I even got a pomegranate at one place as a welcome gift.

The crowds get thicker the closer you get. There are hundreds of children with their parents, some of them look hardly a week old. Wheelchair boys are pushing old ladies and some of the old people ride in big wooden pushcarts. The atmosphere is very family friendly and the only thing you worry about is getting pushed. In the distance you can hear the Imam preaching and sometimes the masses chanting back. The gold plated domes and minarets glint in the sunlight and the decorative tile is gorgeous.

Outside the gates of the mosque you step over families having picnics, and dodge and push your way to the shoe lockers where you leave your footwear. From here I’m separated from the guys again and go through some more intense security where I have to put on a shapeless tent called an abaya over all my other clothes. Everyone is friendly, but extremely pushy. You will get body checked, your abaya will get stepped on and on one occasion I never actually got in the mosque because the women were beginning to press too hard at security. Panic and shouts ensued and half of us were chased off. I could have tried a different entrance but had no courage to battle the masses at the moment.

Once in, you join the general flow of traffic towards the holy shrine. People are walking and sitting and praying anywhere and everywhere. There’s big rugs on the floor and you can have a grand time with your friends, take a nap or breastfeed your baby right in the middle of it all. People kiss the walls and doors, play with beads and clay discs and read the Quran. Children run around creating havoc and nobody gives you much more than a second glance as you step over and around them. One pregnant lady looked at me closely and then came over to stare more because she wanted her baby to have blue eyes. The longer I’m here the less attention I’m attracting, so I mustn’t look quite as awkward as I first did.

The shrine itself is a hectic place. People go a little crazy with their chanting, kissing, thumping and pushing. Women throw scarves and children ride on shoulders so they don’t get crushed. On the mens side groups will bring a coffin with their loved one in it for one last trip to the mosque. These aren’t nice coffins. Some are used packing crates that have no lid. There’s just a blanket draped over them and you can see the bodies bouncing around in them as they fight the crowds. According to Muslim tradition, the shrine in one mosque today held the bones of Adam and Noah. After the shrine, women disperse to quieter corners to rest. I love those quiet spots, where you can gaze around and not just try to stay upright and moving.

The inside of the mosques are intensely dazzling. I have never seen so much splendor. The boys saw a golden arch that was awesome and the ceilings and chandeliers are jaw dropping.

Back outside the guys and I meet at our prearranged spots and compare stories. One thing we’ve sure noticed is that even though you’re pushed and crushed, everyone is always nice. The guards with their flapping feather dusters have never seemed mean, the women clutch your arms or pat you and say welcome… it’s just quite amazing. You may get trampled to death, but it will be done cheerfully!

Today we had two meals. Lunch was sub par at best but supper was really good. Nothing has tasted too strange yet, and the stomachs seem to be settling so for that we are deeply grateful.

Our hotel is close to the mosque in Karbala. It’s pretty nice, tho the Wi-Fi doesn’t work. We still haven’t tried the hot water so here’s to hoping!