Naturally, as one would expect of such a tight knit community, they all knew one another and so when they heard that guests had arrived, a good many people came to visit. The Iraqi people were incredibly welcoming and were "ahl wajib," or people who did their duty to ensure proper manners and etiquette were maintained.
The only issue with this is that at times, they would take the very clothes off their backs if need be to ensure that their guests were comfortable. That aside, the feeling of trust and absolute warmth radiating from everyone there made her feel as though the tiredness and heat were of little importance.
"Want to see something beautiful, Baji?"
"Something more beautiful than sitting in the company of lovely people?"
"A thousand times better. Get your head abaya and don't bring anything with you other than a heart filled with a true longing."
Utterly confused, she grabbed her head abaya - something which had always made her feel like Batwoman - and waited patiently as the taxi arrived to pick them up.
The early afternoon was warm and the air was polluted with the sound of horns. With the pure insanity of the drivers, it was no wonder every driver had glued their hand permanently to their horns. As their driver wove through the traffic that filled the streets ahead of the afternoon call for prayer, she continued to ask where they were going.
"You will see it soon. Just wait and see."
Almost immediately, their driver announced their arrival and she turned to the window on her right. Her heart skipped a best as she saw two golden domes standing against the blue sky. In perfect symmetry, they glistened and beckoned her to come closer. Without waiting for permission or instructions, she jumped out of the car and stood impatiently while the driver was paid so they could make their way towards the mosque where the bodies of the holy Imam's Al-Jawad and Al-Kadhum resided.
* * *
The heat had reached a sweltering 32• and to someone not accustomed to that kind of weather, it came to feel like a living hell. However, a pleasant breeze played upon her cheek as she sat in the courtyard.
They had opened up the large green umbrella's to shade people from the relentless sun and so the sky was severed from sight. With this, the sight of the two domes were taken from her and so instead, she sat there, enviously watching the children running around without a care in the world other than being caught by one another.
In the distance, she spotted a congregation it men - the guards of the holy shrines of the Kadhumayn. They wore black uniforms, embellished with three golden stripes on their cuffs and two more on their shoulders. Their caps had a shield to protect their faces from the sun and across their bodies, they wore a green sash reading, "the servants of the Jawadain."
Slowly and steadily, more and more of them came together and began to form perfect rows, facing the direction of the shrine. A microphone was placed in front of the one man who stood out; he was decked similarly to the others but in a grey uniform and a large tassel at the end of his sash. He was also flanked by two large men wearing a Keshida, a large red hat, wrapped with a green cloth that signified their lineage.
As soon as the clock struck two, he began to recite a salutation towards the two Imam's. His voice was deep and sorrowful, something she came to find highly prevalent in a good many Iraqi reciters. Mesmerised by the moving recitation, she didn't realise her aunt standing beside her.
"We need to head back. They're waiting for us so we can have lunch together."
Knowing fully well that there could be no arguing and that they had probably outdone themselves with the sheer amount of food, she sighed and took one last look in the direction that the men were facing. With them, she recited the salutation and headed back to the doorways of the courtyard. She knew that no matter what would happen, these doors too would remain open, welcoming anyone who came to them and sought refuge beside them.
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