I have met a young Bahraini girl here, who we'll call A, that is a university student and has become a good friend of mine. I have also met her sister-in-law, M-a. The following is an account of what I did a week ago during the Shi'a Arba'een Ceremony (to commemorate the death of Imam Hussein, see also: Muharram) that I wrote in an e-mail around 2am.
I drove down to A's house and she invited me in. I went back to meet her mom, who speaks little English, and had some tea. Soon A’s brother Ali arrived with his fiancé M-a, who I had met a few days before. We all talked for a bit back in the tv/sitting area of what I assume is the master bedroom, which was insanely ornate and very lavishly decorated. M-a and Ali brought pizza and we all ate together, but it was very informal. Ali explained some things to me of Arba'een and I was explaining something of my faith, but I honestly don't remember what it was. Before we left, A helped me fix my hijab (I was also wearing an abaya) and gave me one of those skull cap thingies to wear that keeps the scarf in place. A’s mom told her to fix my exposed hair; A joked that her mom would make me a “good conversative Mulsim girl.”
Once we arrived in Muharraq, we parked and walked to the Matam (a Muslim fellowship hall). We took off our shoes and went upstairs to the women's room. All the women are wearing burkhas/abayas and are sitting in little groups, but the room is packed and there are children climbing everywhere. The women are talking and laughing, and even as the message begins, they do not quiet down for a while. The message is given downstairs to the men and is delivered by monitor up to the women so they can see and hear it. The whole time there are women walking around with trays of different kinds of food and drink, some veggie things and some sweet things, offering them to everyone. Someone comes around to take 1BD donations for something and each person gives. The message is going on this whole time and A is explaining a few things to me. I catch words here and there, but generally do not know what is being said. At one point, though, the Sheikh tells a story about an Arab Christian that also died in the battle (that Imam Hussein died in). About 30-45 minutes into it, I notice an older woman who has covered her face with her hijab and is crying. I see a few other women doing it, and soon, they are all doing it. I just put my head down while the wailing gets more intense. All the lights are off now (except a glimmer of the hall light), so I just prayed for the ten-ish remaining minutes. The whole time this was going on, the Sheikh is still speaking, and very emotionally at that; he was also crying, I believe. A few minutes later, the lights are back on and the women all seem fine, even talking and laughing again. A little while later, all the women had their hands out in front of them elevated a bit, palms up, and stood to face one of the walls, which I assume is Mecca.
Once this portion is over, we head downstairs, get our shoes and go outside. The men have gathered in the street (we are behind a screen) and are drumming and chanting. Moments later, they begin their procession through the streets as they beat their chests. Each Matam marches through the streets as a unit and has a single chanter using a microphone. Some groups have what looks like a chain whip that they use to gentle hit their backs (no bloodshed of any kind occurred). A and I watch in our area for a bit, and then head a few blocks over to watch the groups go by on a main road. Each group that goes by does the ritual slightly differently, some more enthusiastic than others. A is introducing me to all the women she knows, and many of her dozens of cousins. All the women are funny and friendly, they give tight hugs and many kisses, even to me. One of the women was asking me if this was my first time wearing the abaya/hijab, and when I said no, she turned to A and mentioned me wearing one more often, and then said "inshAllah (Lord willing), forever," and they high-fived! It was funny. And weird. Many of the women also said they thought I was "one of them," that I looked Persian or Syrian, and A would clarify so they would stop speaking in Farsi to me. Once the processionals ended, we headed back to our respective Matam for mashbous (traditional chicken and rice). The men had returned in group and did some singing and flag-waving in front of the Matam, some of which was actually in Farsi, not Arabic.
Soon things wind down and we head home (circa 12:30am). As I'm dropping A off in front of her house, we have a great discussion about a guy she nearly married and what she hopes for now for a future spouse. This gave me a great opportunity to share with her what sort of things I was looking for, and what I believe the Biblical purpose of marriage even is. She asked me if the person I marry has to be Christian, so I said it doesn't matter what he calls himself as long as he loves Jesus the way I do, that I base my life around Him and put my faith and trust in Him and His teachings above all else. We talked about this for a while, and she shared about the end of her relationship and how she became depressed in the grief of it (because her family ultimately didn't approve). Overall the conversation was very encouraging, and the subject matter allowed for natural talk about Jesus and His role in my life.
I drove down to A's house and she invited me in. I went back to meet her mom, who speaks little English, and had some tea. Soon A’s brother Ali arrived with his fiancé M-a, who I had met a few days before. We all talked for a bit back in the tv/sitting area of what I assume is the master bedroom, which was insanely ornate and very lavishly decorated. M-a and Ali brought pizza and we all ate together, but it was very informal. Ali explained some things to me of Arba'een and I was explaining something of my faith, but I honestly don't remember what it was. Before we left, A helped me fix my hijab (I was also wearing an abaya) and gave me one of those skull cap thingies to wear that keeps the scarf in place. A’s mom told her to fix my exposed hair; A joked that her mom would make me a “good conversative Mulsim girl.”
Once we arrived in Muharraq, we parked and walked to the Matam (a Muslim fellowship hall). We took off our shoes and went upstairs to the women's room. All the women are wearing burkhas/abayas and are sitting in little groups, but the room is packed and there are children climbing everywhere. The women are talking and laughing, and even as the message begins, they do not quiet down for a while. The message is given downstairs to the men and is delivered by monitor up to the women so they can see and hear it. The whole time there are women walking around with trays of different kinds of food and drink, some veggie things and some sweet things, offering them to everyone. Someone comes around to take 1BD donations for something and each person gives. The message is going on this whole time and A is explaining a few things to me. I catch words here and there, but generally do not know what is being said. At one point, though, the Sheikh tells a story about an Arab Christian that also died in the battle (that Imam Hussein died in). About 30-45 minutes into it, I notice an older woman who has covered her face with her hijab and is crying. I see a few other women doing it, and soon, they are all doing it. I just put my head down while the wailing gets more intense. All the lights are off now (except a glimmer of the hall light), so I just prayed for the ten-ish remaining minutes. The whole time this was going on, the Sheikh is still speaking, and very emotionally at that; he was also crying, I believe. A few minutes later, the lights are back on and the women all seem fine, even talking and laughing again. A little while later, all the women had their hands out in front of them elevated a bit, palms up, and stood to face one of the walls, which I assume is Mecca.
Once this portion is over, we head downstairs, get our shoes and go outside. The men have gathered in the street (we are behind a screen) and are drumming and chanting. Moments later, they begin their procession through the streets as they beat their chests. Each Matam marches through the streets as a unit and has a single chanter using a microphone. Some groups have what looks like a chain whip that they use to gentle hit their backs (no bloodshed of any kind occurred). A and I watch in our area for a bit, and then head a few blocks over to watch the groups go by on a main road. Each group that goes by does the ritual slightly differently, some more enthusiastic than others. A is introducing me to all the women she knows, and many of her dozens of cousins. All the women are funny and friendly, they give tight hugs and many kisses, even to me. One of the women was asking me if this was my first time wearing the abaya/hijab, and when I said no, she turned to A and mentioned me wearing one more often, and then said "inshAllah (Lord willing), forever," and they high-fived! It was funny. And weird. Many of the women also said they thought I was "one of them," that I looked Persian or Syrian, and A would clarify so they would stop speaking in Farsi to me. Once the processionals ended, we headed back to our respective Matam for mashbous (traditional chicken and rice). The men had returned in group and did some singing and flag-waving in front of the Matam, some of which was actually in Farsi, not Arabic.
Soon things wind down and we head home (circa 12:30am). As I'm dropping A off in front of her house, we have a great discussion about a guy she nearly married and what she hopes for now for a future spouse. This gave me a great opportunity to share with her what sort of things I was looking for, and what I believe the Biblical purpose of marriage even is. She asked me if the person I marry has to be Christian, so I said it doesn't matter what he calls himself as long as he loves Jesus the way I do, that I base my life around Him and put my faith and trust in Him and His teachings above all else. We talked about this for a while, and she shared about the end of her relationship and how she became depressed in the grief of it (because her family ultimately didn't approve). Overall the conversation was very encouraging, and the subject matter allowed for natural talk about Jesus and His role in my life.
**For a description and [graphic] photos about the second portion of the ceremony the following day, visit Jason's Blog.
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