by SAFA AL AHMAD
The 1980s were a tumultuous time. Saudi Shia suffered badly in the tug of war between Iran and Saudi Arabia. Countless numbers were arrested and tortured; many more fled or disappeared. The crackdown left a permanent scar. Shia were required to be loyal citizens without being treated as such. They began to feel the effects of collective punishment in jobs, schools, colleges and the underdevelopment of their towns.
It was unwise to admit in public that you were a Shia. At school it was best to lie if asked directly, otherwise the other children would ask to see your tail – a rumour going around – or stop talking to you. Another Shia student would timidly seek you out. ‘You look like a Shia. And I heard you argue with the teacher in religion class,’ she would whisper. ‘It’s OK, I’m a Shia too.’ If outed by someone, you might hear the comment ‘But she is so clean!’
‘To open a Shia mosque,’ Abdullah said, expressing his frustration, ‘there are specific rules that must be met: it must be in a new neighbourhood, and the only one within a specific area. You must have permission from all the residents in the neighbourhood, and the call to prayer has to be done in the Sunni way.’ Even then permits are rarely given. They aren’t given for Hussainiyat either. You open one, get arrested a couple of times until it becomes an accepted fact.
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(Thanks to Robin Khundkar)