The Shrine of the Two Sheikhs
Yemeni mp
Ahmed Saif Hashed
Sheikh Huyay, or Sheikh Yahya, is honored with a shrine situated on a small hill in Wadi Sabih. This shrine is enclosed by a room and two domes, which are painted white with lime in the days leading up to the “Mawlid” celebration. Each year, the paint is refreshed at the designated time.
The whitewashing imparts an air of grandeur and reverence to the place; its bright brilliance comforts visitors, making them feel accompanied. Gazing upon the shrine, one finds it majestic and captivating, whether by day or night. A voice seems to urge you to pause: “Stop for a moment… there is something worthy of your attention.”
Within the room lies the grave of Sheikh Huyay, alongside that of the servant he owned, who evidently held a significant place in his heart, perhaps even more than his own family. This is evident from the servant’s grave being positioned next to his, along with the fact that he inherited a third of Sheikh Huyay’s estate by will. A “shib” known as “Shib al-Abid” is said to have been designated for him in that will. Nearby, along the room’s length, rests the grave of Sheikh Huyay’s wife, a simple flat grave without a marker.
As Al Mawlid of Sheikh Huyay approaches, an announcement known as “Al-Tatreeb” is made, signaling the event that occurs on a Thursday. This announcement is proclaimed from a high vantage point in the market, beginning with the phrase, “The present knows the absent…” I recall eagerly awaiting the passing of the year during my childhood, yearning for the arrival of this celebration with all my heart. My childhood longing would ignite in a way that was unparalleled; attending this event filled me with indescribable joy.
Al Mawlid resembled a grand carnival, attracting a large crowd. Happiness enveloped the children, creating memories that would linger forever. During Al Mawlid, the mountain housing the shrine appeared vibrant, reminiscent of a Christmas tree adorned with sparkling lights.
The mountain seemed draped in shells, pearls, and colorful stars of the sea, filled with attendees in bright attire. Flags fluttered high in various gatherings, some carried as people ascended the path to the shrine. These flags draped over the shrine, bestowing an air of majesty and dignity upon it, akin to a king on the day of his coronation. Joy illuminated the faces of all who attended.
At the foot of the mountain, people gathered beneath the shade of the massive, leafy “Humar” trees. Nearby, the shrine of Sheikh Ahmad rests amidst the lively bustle of buying and selling. Life here is vibrant and flowing, a lively contrast to the year of silence that preceded it. It feels as though everyone—both the living and the dead—celebrates this day together. Animals are sacrificed, and people enjoy a communal meal, lingering until the gathering begins to disperse.
In the afternoon or the day before, the crowd gathers at the foot of the mountain to form a line, beginning their ascent toward the shrine of Sheikh Huyay atop the hill. The crowd moves slowly, pulsating with light, more splendid than a thousand grooms. The actions of the possessed captivate the childhood imagination in unforgettable wonder.
I still vividly recall the possessed man starting to tremble. He drew his dagger from its sheath, placing the hilt in his left hand while gripping the blade with his right. He tilted it toward his eyes, as if searching for a secret or revelation waiting for its moment.
They said he was awaiting the signal that would allow him to enter the depths of “jathb” (ecstasy). He began to sway like a branch in the wind or a camphor tree in a storm. Then, he knelt and struck his shoulders with the blade, yet no blood or marks were visible.
He resumed his kneeling position on the tips of his toes, poised, delivering repeated blows to his sides. He stabbed his abdomen with relentless strikes, leaving no trace on his body despite all he had done. The only marks left were those of confusion and astonishment etched on the faces of our youthful selves.
Then, he returned to his senses, emerging from his state and resuming his natural demeanor as if nothing extraordinary had occurred. How beautiful were those fleeting days! How precious was childhood during that time! Both will certainly never return.
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