An Iraqi pilgrim finds kindness in the 'Triangle of Death'

KARBALA, Iraq -- With thousands of other Shiite Muslims, I walked through the infamous "Triangle of Death" where suicide bombers, presumably Sunni extremists, had attacked fellow pilgrims two days before.

Our trek covered 50 miles from Baghdad to the holy city of Karbala, and we passed through 14 cities, places best known as scenes of death, division and destruction.

On this, my second pilgrimage since the Americans overthrew Saddam Hussein, my fears turned to amazement as complete strangers, Sunnis and Shiites alike, opened their doors to me. The poor passed out food and sweet tea they could hardly afford.

I began the walk as a spiritual journey, a personal opportunity to feel close to Imam Hussein, the grandson of the prophet Mohammed, who was martyred in the year 680. By the end, I found the spirit of my nation in roadside tents, modest homes and gifts of food.

The walk and the religious ceremony of Arbaeen commemorate the life of the great man for whom I'm named. The people of Kufa asked Hussein to save them from the oppressive rule of the Umayyad Caliphate, but then they betrayed him. During the battle of Karbala, Hussein was beheaded along with 71 of his followers, and the women and children were imprisoned.

According to Shiite tradition, on the 40th day after his death his son, Ali ibn Hussein, returned his father's head to his body, and it was buried with his body in Karbala. Arbaeen commemorates that day, and about 10 million pilgrims converged on the city this year to mourn his death and commemorate his life.

My pilgrimage started in central Baghdad, where I crossed the Jadriyah Bridge with dozens of other people. Tents were set up on the side of the road, where neighborhood volunteers offered us food and drink. I picked up a boiled egg sandwich and orange juice and tucked away biscuits and juice in my bag for later.

In Saidiyah, the scene of fierce battles between Sunnis and Shiites, and Dora, a neighborhood where al-Qaida in Iraq once targeted passing Shiite pilgrims, towering concrete walls brought me comfort. Two days before my walk, someone had thrown grenades into the crowd, killing three people, pilgrims like me.

It took me three hours to reach Baghdad's gate in the south, where the road leads into what's called the Sunni "Triangle of Death". Around me, women clutched their babies, little boys walked close to their parents and the elderly marched on. At prayer time, I stopped at one of the roadside tents to pray.

A young man sat with his two-year-old daughter in a stroller. Her legs were limp. She couldn't walk, and he was penniless.

"I can't go abroad to treat her, I don't have the money for such a trip," he told me. "I hope that walking to Karbala with my little baby will give her the Imam's blessing to help her walk."

Here, in the Triangle of Death, I saw the greatest kindness.

People who earn six dollars a day opened their homes to passing pilgrims and offered them food. Women sat outside with their children and boiled hot, sweet tea for us. No one is as generous as the poor.

In Mahmoudiyah, a mixed-sect slum, banners in support of militant Shiite cleric Muqtada al-Sadr's movement covered the walls. I tried to find a plug to charge my camera, but most people had no fuel to power their generators. I limped to a mosque searching for electricity, but even there it was dark.

So I walked on to Latifiyah, passing a building that was hit by mortars last year, reducing it to rubble.

In Latifiyah, I met a mother and boy of four who was exhausted by the walk. They'd been walking for a full day until a cold rain had halted their journey and they found lodging with a local family.