(Opening music plays, followed by the sound of a sarcastic applause)
Jimmy Carr (in his signature dry tone): “Ah, lovely. Another heartwarming story about refugees, war, and… well, more war. Just what we all needed to brighten up our day. But, of course, we must address the serious issue at hand. So, let’s get on with it, shall we?”
Rowan Atkinson (in his Mr. Bean-esque voice): “Right-o, right-o! So, we have Lebanese refugees fleeing to Iraq, eh? Well, that’s a bit like me fleeing to the pub to escape the in-laws. (chuckles) But, I digress. The important thing is that they’re finding solace in the holy city of Karbala. Ah, yes, Karbala… sounds like a lovely place to get away from it all.”
Ricky Gervais (in his biting, satirical tone): “Now, now, now, let’s not get too sentimental here. I mean, we’re talking about a region that’s been ravaged by war, sectarian violence, and, of course, Israeli strikes. It’s like a never-ending game of ‘Risk’ down there. But, hey, at least the Iraqis are showing some hospitality, right? I mean, who needs a warm welcome when you can have a cold, hard bullet to the head?”
Lee Evans (in his high-energy, fast-talking style): “Alright, alright, alright! So, we’ve got the refugees, we’ve got the Iraqis, we’ve got the Shia Muslims… it’s like a big ol’ family reunion down there! (laughs) But, seriously, folks, it’s amazing to see how these people are coming together, sharing their stories, and finding strength in their faith. I mean, it’s not all doom and gloom, is it? Although, I have to say, I do feel a bit sorry for the poor sods who have to deal with all those Israeli strikes. I mean, can’t we all just get along?”
(The four comedians continue to banter back and forth, injecting humor and satire into the article)
Jimmy Carr: “And, of course, no article about refugees would be complete without a mention of the United Nations. Ah, yes, the UN – where bureaucracy meets… well, more bureaucracy. (laughs) But, seriously, it’s good to see that they’re trying to help out, even if it’s just with a few billion dinars here and there.”
Rowan Atkinson: “Now, now, now, Jimmy, don’t be too hard on the UN. After all, they’re just trying to do their best in a very difficult situation. (chuckles) Although, I do have to say, I find it a bit rich that they’re talking about ‘donations’ when, let’s be honest, most of us are still trying to figure out how to donate to our own favorite charities without getting scammed.”
Ricky Gervais: “Yeah, and while we’re on the subject of charities, has anyone noticed how many of these organizations are just lining their own pockets with cash? I mean, it’s like they’re running a bloody business down there! (sarcastically) Oh, yes, please, by all means, send us your hard-earned cash so we can… (dramatic pause)… build a new office building in Manhattan.”
Lee Evans: “Alright, alright, alright! So, let’s get back to the article, shall we? (laughs) So, we’ve got the refugees, we’ve got the Iraqis, we’ve got the Shia Muslims… and, of course, we’ve got the ever-present threat of Israeli strikes. (sarcastically) Oh, joy. Just what we all needed to make our day complete.”
(The four comedians continue to comment on the article, injecting humor, satire, and social commentary into the discussion)
Jimmy Carr: “Well, that’s all for today, folks. Thanks for joining us on this delightful journey into the world of refugees, war, and… well, more war. (laughs) Don’t forget to tune in next time when we’ll be discussing… (dramatic pause)… the importance of wearing sunscreen while fleeing from Israeli strikes.”
Rowan Atkinson: “Right-o, right-o! And don’t forget to donate to your favorite charity – preferably one that doesn’t line the pockets of its executives with cash. (chuckles) Ah, yes, the never-ending cycle of war, refugees, and… well, more war. (sighs) But, hey, at least we can all have a good laugh about it, right?”
Ricky Gervais: “Yeah, because nothing says ‘comedy gold’ like a bunch of people fleeing for their lives from Israeli strikes. (sarcastically) Oh, yes, please, by all means, let’s make fun of the refugees. I’m sure they’ll find it hilarious.”
Lee Evans: “Alright, alright, alright! So, that’s a wrap, folks! Thanks for joining us on this wild ride into the world of refugees, war, and… well, more war. (laughs) Don’t forget to tune in next time when we’ll be discussing… (dramatic pause)… the importance of having a good sense of humor while fleeing from Israeli strikes.”
(The four comedians continue to banter back and forth as the article comes to a close)
It is a little after 9 p.m. at Baghdad International Airport on October 24, 2024. The visa queue is unusually long for foreigners, mainly Lebanese refugees welcomed by Iraq as “guests”, as repeatedly repeated by official representatives. Baggage in hand, they quickly head towards the exit, where spontaneous reunions are already taking place. Some stop in Baghdad, like Kassem, who finds his mother there. She settled temporarily in the capital after fleeing Tyre, a coastal city in southern Lebanon, recently deserted under Israeli bombing. Other travelers head towards the cars waiting to take them to Karbala. After crossing numerous checkpoints, they arrive like me in the night, under the gaze of the portraits of Ayatollah Ali al-Sistani, Mohamed Sadiq al-Sadr and his son Moqtada, which adorn the walls and the streets of the city, alongside other great preachers of the Shiite Muslim faith.
A historical link
According to figures from the United Nations refugee agency (UNHCR) at the end of October 2024, more than 25,000 Lebanese are exiled today in Iraq. Depending on the intensity of Israeli strikes, the flow of refugees can reach a daily average of 900 people since mid-October. They settled mainly in the holy cities of Karbala and Najaf, while others spread across various provinces in central and southern Iraq, including Babil, Basra, Diyala and Salaheddin1.
Relations between Lebanon and Iraq benefit from a strong identity shared by the Shiites of the two countries, and which was affirmed after the Iranian Islamic revolution of 1979. These ideological links deepened with the rise of Hezbollah, formed in response to the Israeli invasion of Beirut in 1982, and under the growing influence of Iran after the fall of Saddam Hussein. The two communities maintain dynamic exchanges, illustrated by the commemorations which punctuate the Shiite religious calendar and give rise to frequent pilgrimages to Iraqi sites. The Najaf seminary also constitutes an important center of theological, social and political education, where many Lebanese students are trained. The recent war in Gaza intensified their common struggle against oppression, thus consolidating their sense of solidarity in the name of a resurgent pan-Arabism.
Karbala, October 25, 2024. Lebanese women in exile in the grounds of the mausoleum of Imam Hussein.
(All photos are by Héloïse Wiart)
This solidarity is also deeply anchored in Islamic resistance, where everyone feels concerned by the suffering of the Lebanese “brothers”. In town, the facades of barbers, street restaurants and shops selling veils and abayas are adorned with Lebanese and Palestinian flags. On billboards, charities are calling for donations. At the bend of a bridge, we can see tents set up by the Hachd al-Chaabi, Shiite and pro-Iranian militias, where locals are encouraged to bring clothing, food and other contributions for the refugees present in Karbala.
The tragic night of September 23-24, marked by the deadliest Israeli strike since the July 2006 war, led to an influx of refugees. Ali Yassin, a 17-year-old from Saida, capital of southern Lebanon, arrived here by road, following the event now nicknamed “Black Monday” by everyone: “We left with just one bag each one, he tells us, it took us hours to reach Beirut, then the Al Qaim border post. There were thousands of us fleeing the south. »
Like Ali, many are choosing the overland route through Syria, taking one of the informal routes, due to Israeli bombing targeting border crossings, which line the long, porous border with Lebanon. The cost of the trip ranges between 60 and 200 dollars per person (between 57 and 189 euros), depending on the point of departure and arrival, and can extend over several days. Some have opted for an air journey, but only the Lebanese company Middle East Airlines operates a few flights per week from Beirut, all of which are already full and very expensive.
Sanctuaries on the front line
In response to this growing humanitarian crisis, the Iraqi government encouraged the Lebanese to seek refuge in Iraq, by extending the validity of their visas, and by mobilizing nearly three billion dinars (2.14 million euros) according to sources to the Department of Immigration and Refugees, to meet their essential needs. Shiite leaders, like Moqtada Al-Sadr, black turban, former militia leader and popular figure within the community, also appealed for donations to help Lebanese refugees.
Space dedicated to collecting donations under the aegis of Hachd in Karbala.
It is mainly the administrations of the shrines of Imam Hussein and Imam Abbas which play a central role in this dynamic. Responsible for the preservation and maintenance of the sites, they generate significant income thanks to pilgrimages and donations from the faithful, as evidenced by the glass urns stuffed with banknotes, scattered around the holy places. A crucial dimension of this funding is the significant increase of more than 30% in religious government allocations in the 2024 budget, reaching 2.564 trillion dinars (or nearly 1.659 billion euros). Although Iran also actively supports some Iraqi Shiite factions, its role in directly funding the shrines remains unclear. The religious seminary of Najaf, with its long tradition of independence from political authorities, stands out from Iranian seminaries, such as that of Qom, whose clergy directly obeys Ayatollah Khamenei. Some sources indicate that Iran could prefer to invest in groups loyal to its regime rather than in Karbala, associated with Najaf and seen as a counterweight to its influence.
Shiite Muslim authorities have requisitioned many hotels, usually reserved for believers from around the world, to provide refugees with several meals a day and temporary accommodation. Among these establishments is the Al-Noor Hotel, located just a twenty-minute walk from the Qibla Gate leading to the Imam Hussein Shrine.
In the name of the same higher moral and religious interests, restaurateurs prepare meals for free, while many hotel managers accommodate entire families free of charge, regardless of the subsidies offered by Shiite organizations. “It’s a personal decision to welcome women and children,” hotel manager Hoda Al-Wali tells us. Hayat, like many other Lebanese people he met, expresses his deep gratitude for this warm welcome. She recounts, amused, how Iraqis approached her in the street, saying they were “at her service”, and going so far as to offer her their house, their car, and even, she joked, their last sheep.
Space dedicated to collecting donations under the aegis of Hachd in Karbala.
Mohamed, a teenager in his twenties from the southern suburbs of Beirut, devastated by Israeli bombings, does not know like many others if his house is still standing and if he will be able to return to the country. He tells us how the emergency continues to punctuate his life and to what extent the concern for his uncles, his grandparents and the rest of his loved ones left there torments him. “As soon as there is a strike, you have to check that everyone is okay,” he explains.
Every evening, almost like a ritual, Lebanese refugees meet in the hotel lounges to share their stories of difficult crossings or separated families, as well as their reminiscences of past conflicts. Some recount the emergency evacuation, the fear in their stomachs, the apprehension of the unknown on the journey to the border, while rumors circulated of refugees abandoned in the desert, deprived of water and food. The nights pass between nostalgia and heavy silence, where we gather around tea, our eyes glued to the television screen, while continuous images are broadcast.
“A familiar welcome land”
Despite the uncertainty, Mohamed remains hopeful. “Iraq is our second country, we are safe here,” he assures us, sitting on one of the velvet sofas in the hotel lobby, while the distant echoes of the videos of the bombings ring out on his neighbors’ phones. This feeling echoes that of Ghida, a young Lebanese woman from Nabatiyé (south of Lebanon), staying a few streets away, at the Hoda Al-Wali hotel. She explains to us that Iraq is a familiar welcome land for her people. They visit the mausoleum at least once a year during Arbaïn, one of the largest religious gatherings in the world. This commemoration marks the last of forty days of mourning following the anniversary of the death of Imam Hussein, grandson of the Prophet Mohamed, after ‘Ashura. Ghida was there in August 2024, and remembers these days marked by tributes to Gaza and support for the Palestinian cause. Today, she notices how pilgrims from all over sympathize with Lebanon. “We are lucky to be close to Imam Hussein, and we sincerely believe that praying will help us,” she tells us.
Hour of contemplation in front of the mausoleum of Imam Hussein
Every morning, the Lebanese faithful blend into the crowds heading towards the imam’s mausoleum, with its shiny golden dome. The interior is magnificent, adorned with colorful mosaics, sparkling mirrors and crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, with religious calligraphy decorating the walls.
The women sneak in and try to touch or kiss the tomb. They jostle, moan, cry or shout “Labaika Ya Hussein!” » (“Here I am at your service, O Hussein!”). In this atmosphere marked by devotion and spirituality, where sorrow mixes with hope, Yara confides to us: “Our proselytism is our weapon. » For these Lebanese women, Imam Hussein embodies a true school of life. The lessons learned from her martyrdom, that of her family, and her sacrifice resonate deeply within them:
Hussein was oppressed, like us. We were not present during the Battle of Karbala, but if we had been there, we would have without hesitation fought alongside him. Now we say “Labaik” in response to his call, following his path and his teachings. We are all blessed to be close to him.
For many Lebanese, loss and exile are a sad part of their history, a never-ending cycle. But on this land of Iraq, near the sanctuary of Imam Hussein, they draw the strength of their resilience from the sacred. “Our house was destroyed in 2006 during the war, and we rebuilt it. This time again, we will return to Lebanon and we will rebuild,” says Ghida in a tone full of revolt.
