I return to Dar es Salaam at the start of the holy month of Muharram. Yet another opportunity to partake in the remembrance and pay respect and honor Imam Hussein (a) and his family for their devotion and sublime sacrifice for the pleasure of Allah and the reformation of Islam – for me, a time for self-reflection, certainly. The atmosphere in and around the Khoja mosque reflects these somber days with black everywhere. The going in the first few days is routine, boring even. I prefer going to the lectures at Mehfil Abbas (a).
S. Nuru Mohammed is his usual bubbly self and says nothing new. Or inspiring. Still, I go, hoping for inspiration and reinforcement of my commitment to better myself as a good Muslim in the future. And to renew my allegiance to the movement of Imam Hussein (a). The Sheikh was a promising start a few years ago but is now stuck in a rut of sorts. I wish he would return to Ghana and be a unique and invaluable asset to the community there, where he was born. But I don’t blame him for choosing to stay in Birmingham and visiting worldwide Khoja-affiliated centers during Muharram, Arbaeen, and Ramadhan. These lecturers need to live, like any of us.
Khoja Muharram commemorations in Dar are always full of controversies – moto-moto. The main lecture is at the Imambargah adjacent to the prayer hall at the Khoja mosque. The place is packed since there is an influx of visitors from around the world, especially Dubai, where it’s summer, and the temperatures and the humidity there are unbearable. It’s ‘winter’ in Dar, and the weather is ideal – cool, comfortable nights and balmy days. The principal lecturer is S. Shahnawaz, another moto-moto from Birmingham, with a peculiar, unimpressive British accent. His lectures are full of the usual dreams and superb exaggerations that our respectable and honorable aalims have learned and specialize in. On the eve of the eighth of Muharram, dedicated to Abbas (a), the man extends his sermon for about ninety minutes, with a thirty-minute tirade against another lecturer from India. The whole discourse and outburst are bizarre for many reasons. For somebody to assault and accuse a defenseless person thousands of miles away is wrong. Period. Coming from an ‘aalim’ who should know better is shameful. And for the authorities in power to allow such blatant behavior from the pulpit without reproach is reprehensible.
I am not defending or promoting the lecturer from India who has been vocal in his opinion regarding some of the rituals we orchestrate in Muharram; I don’t pretend to know. I don’t know the guy either; I just heard some of his lectures online after S. Shahnawaz’s tirade went e-viral. The Indian has his arguments, some rather interesting. Perhaps that is why many are listening, especially the ones who use their brains and ask questions? And this has S. Shahnawaz and his like worried, I think. If the Indian guy was full of hot air, Shahnawaz Inc. would not have been so defensive or bothered, and the Indian would have been ignored. Anyway, I thought accusing anybody – a colleague at that – of a money grab (I wonder if S. Shahnawaz is lecturing pro-bono?) and acting as agents of rogue elements, in their absence without a shred of proof, on a mimbur, is a mortal sin. Perhaps S. Shahnawaz is rewriting the rules of the very Quraan he claims he is defending? Or has a much younger confrere with a curious mind, mastery over Arabic, and more chutzpa than his nemesis poked some unwary eyes? Allah knows best.
The 12th night of Muharram has no lectures; the authorities have set it aside for a Q&A session with the two visiting lecturers. Also included, perhaps as an afterthought, is a local aalim, a Sayyed, possibly to give the setup justice. I enjoy Q&A sessions, for they become a dialogue rather than a monologue, and I can, if allowed by the uncertain moderator, question. I am convinced S. Shahnawaz is on the defensive when he repeatedly derides the Indian reciter once again. What is heartbreaking is the behavior and expression of the two others present. S. Nuru simply snickers away, the Sayyed adds to the accusations, together with more mirch masala, and the moderator floats along with the show.
A very positive development this year is the absence of ear-shattering hip-hop-style latamia from the muaquibs around the mosque vicinity; I will not have to visit an ENT, alhamd’Allah. The volunteers, too, have done a remarkable job in keeping the whole area cleared of the thousands of plastic cups and bottles we churn up during this period. The Muharram juloos, or parade, is set for a working day, Tuesday, right at the beginning of the rush hour, around 4:30 PM. I watch as about a thousand men and children go through the streets around the mosque, blaring ear-splitting nauhas and marshias for the non-Shia crowd who speak no Urdu – in Urdu. All I see are bemused expressions from ordinary citizens and mightily irked motorists who must wait or take alternate routes to accommodate the parade. And all this is supposed to invite others to our madhab? Amazing logic.
That’s not enough. A rival juloos takes place after 10 PM, about a half kilometer from my digs. The area of town I live in is perhaps 25% Shia, 50% other Muslims, and the rest are non-Muslims. The Shia’s may be taking the day off tomorrow for Ashoora, perhaps. The rest, who must work, are made to listen to mostly high-octane Urdu reciters screaming through loudspeakers, most showcasing their vocal abilities. I speak to people in the USA at that time who are startled to hear these reciters through my cellphone. Remember, I live about a half-kilometer away. The juloos goes on past 11 PM when I close all windows, turn on the not-needed AC, and try to go to sleep.
And there is zanjeer, self-flagellation, the next day.
Allah-ho-Akbar