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[Page 305]

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Every year, shortly after the end of Ramazan, his martyrdom is commemorated by big processions to and from the mosques, in which men clothed only in sacking, and throwing soil and ashes over their heads, thumping their bare chests, and crying and wailing, work themselves into a religious frenzy, even to the extent of cutting off fingers and other bloody mutilations. A white horse covered with a bloodstained sheet, representing Hussein's original mount, is led in each procession, which usually goes from the mosque to the Governor's palace to beg for the release of a prisoner as an act of clemency. To this request the Governor readily accedes. In the processions there is often an effigy of a "feranghi" (European) wearing an old pith helmet, to honour the belief that one succoured Hussein after the brigands had left him for dead.

We Christians in Hamadan were warned by older European residents not to be on the streets on this day, as there was no knowing what crazy act of violence the fanatics might commit on a "feranghi". But I had the road-improvement plan ready for the Governor, and as I lived near his palace I thought it would be safe to slip down to him with it: I was quite unaware that he had any part in the processions. I no sooner entered the blood-bespattered courtyard of the palace and saw him seated ceremoniously with all his personal staff on a covered platform, than I realised my error. I made to beat a hasty retreat as I heard the clamour of an approaching procession, but it was too late; the Governor caught my eye and beckoned me to come up and sit near him, despite my polite protestations. As the only "feranghi" present, I felt most uncomfortable and out of place, and more so when the next procession surged into the courtyard a few minutes afterwards, and crowded right up to the high platform, shouting, screaming, thumping their chests and mutilating themselves with ugly big knives. A couple of them pushed forward to receive the released prisoner, and tenderly draped a burnous, the gift of the Governor, around his naked shoulders. The zealots all straggled away, and the Governor adjourned to discuss my plan over tea and sweet biscuits. I was then

  

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