The Arbaeen walk in Iraq is a unique and enriching experience, blending spirituality, family bonding, and cultural immersion
Raziqueh Hussain
AS a mother of two, preparing for the Arbaeen pilgrimage in Iraq was both exciting and daunting. I involved my children in the process, explaining the significance of Arbaeen (the fortieth day after Ashura) and the importance of this journey (it is an 80 km walk between Najaf and Karbala which would be covered over three days and nights).
The day finally arrived, and as we set off, I felt a mix of excitement and nervousness. The streets of Iraq from Baghdad, Basra to Najaf were filled with pilgrims, all walking towards Karbala, and the atmosphere was electric with spirituality and purpose. My children, aged five and seven, were full of energy, and eager to take in the sights and sounds around them.
The journey was long, covering several miles each day, but we took our time. I made sure to pace myself and the children, allowing for breaks to rest, hydrate, and appreciate the local hospitality. Along the way, we encountered countless mawkibs (tents) offering food, tea, and even first aid. The kindness of strangers was overwhelming; people welcomed us with open arms, eager to share their traditions and stories.
As we walked, I seized the opportunity to make my children aware of the significance of the pilgrimage. We talked about the martyrdom of Imam Hussain (may Allah be pleased with him) and the values of sacrifice, justice, and compassion. My kids were curious and asked questions, which led to deeper conversations about faith and community. I could see their understanding grow, and it filled my heart with pride.
Of course, there were challenges. My youngest became tired and cranky at times, especially during the hottest parts of the day, so we chose to walk only at night. There were moments of frustration, but I learned to be patient. We created a scavenger hunt to distract them and encouraged them to look for interesting sights — a colourful scarf, black banners, or a flag from a country they had never heard of. These little joys became cherished memories.
One evening, as we settled into a tent for rest, we met a family from the United Kingdom. They welcomed us to share their meal, and we exchanged stories. This connection felt like a microcosm of the pilgrimage: diverse people united in their faith and purpose.
As we journeyed through another night, one moment stood out as truly unforgettable — a beautiful encounter with a local Iraqi child that my kids still talk about.
While we were relishing some fresh bread and tea, a young Iraqi boy, around the same age as my son, approached us shyly. He wore a simple shirt and had a bright smile. At first, he seemed hesitant, but my children, ever curious, waved and invited him over.
Despite the language barrier, they quickly found a way to communicate through gestures and laughter. My children showed him a small toy car they had brought along, and his eyes lit up with joy. They began a game, racing the toy car along the ground, and cheering each other on. It was heartwarming to see how quickly they got connected, their differences forgotten in the joy of play. Despite the challenges faced by families in the region, there was such joy and resilience in this young boy.
This walk was a journey filled with purpose and connection, but one of the most touching moments came when I found myself struggling with my children’s stroller.
The stroller, while helpful for my little ones, became a challenge on the uneven terrain. There were moments when I felt exhausted, trying to navigate through throngs of people and bumps in the road.
When I began to feel overwhelmed, some stranger would notice my struggle and without hesitation, would approach me and offer assistance. This happened throughout my journey of 80 kms.
As we walked together, these kind strangers chatted with me, asking about our journey and sharing their own stories. They were traveling from different cities, united in their purpose to reach Karbala.
As we continued walking, I realised this wasn’t just about physical assistance; it was a beautiful reminder of the spirit of community and compassion that defined the pilgrimage.
As we approached Karbala, the atmosphere shifted. The air buzzed with anticipation and devotion. Walking into the city, we were greeted by the sights of vibrant banners and the sounds of prayers.
Entering the shrine of Abal Fazl Abbas and Imam Hussain (may Allah be pleased with them) a few meters away from each other, was a profound experience. I watched my children take in the beauty of the intricate designs and the reverence of the pilgrims. It was a moment of gratitude for the journey we had undertaken together. I encouraged them to make their prayers, and I felt a sense of unity with all the pilgrims around us.
A decade ago, I made the journey through Iraq as a solo traveller. In those days, the country was at war and I found captivating stories from young and old which were published in a four-part series in the newspaper I worked for in the Gulf. It was an empowering experience, filled with personal growth and exploration. In contrast, travelling with two kids transformed the journey into a family adventure, filled with shared learning, and unforgettable memories. Both experiences have their unique challenges and rewards, creating a rich tapestry of travel stories to cherish.
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The views expressed here are author’s own and Clarion India does not necessarily share or subscribe to them.
