This Year, Sayyed Walked with Us: Ashura in Dahiyeh – A People in Mourning, A Nation in Defiance

By Fatima Haydar

Beirut, Lebanon – Ashura has always been a time of mourning. A day when thousands gather in the streets wearing black, remembering Imam Hussein [AS] and renewing their commitment to justice, dignity and resistance. But this year, in Dahiyeh [Beirut's Southern Suburb], it became something more. Something historic. Something sacred. The march felt different. Heavier. Deeper. More personal.

Yes, Gaza is still bleeding —just like last year— but this time, something had changed. For the first time, the Ashura procession in Dahiyeh happened without Sayyed Hassan Nasrallah. His absence was felt everywhere — in the quiet moments between chants, in the eyes of the people, in the very air we breathed. But strangely, it felt like he was right there with us.

We weren’t just mourning Imam Hussein [AS] this year. We felt Sayyed Nasrallah — our Sayyed — walking with us in spirit. Not from the screen, but deep inside our hearts.

His face was everywhere —on flags, banners and posters held high by children, and even on the headbands worn by mourners. But it wasn’t just about the pictures. It was the feeling in the air. The tears in people’s eyes. The way everyone — men, women and children — whispered his name like he was one of the martyrs of Karbala himself. Sayyed Nasrallah had become part of that sacred story.

His martyrdom left a silence louder than any of his speeches. But that silence was filled by the voices of the people — chanting, crying, standing strong.

Never will I forsake you, O Hussein — the very words our Sayyed repeated throughout his life, was now the heart of this year’s Ashura logo. It wasn’t just a slogan anymore; it was a vow. A vow Sayyed Nasrallah lived by, and now, a vow we carry on.

This wasn’t an ordinary march. It was a statement, not just of grief, but of determination. People came tired, yes — tired of war, endless losses, the constant threats of escalation and the many martyrs we’ve lost recently.

The pain was still fresh — not just from Sayyed’s loss, but from the ongoing suffering in Gaza, the destruction in Lebanon’s South, and the ever-present fear that the next bomb could fall at any moment.

This year’s Ashura happened under the dark cloud of a region on the brink. Imam Sayyed Ali Khamenei, leader of the Islamic Revolution, has been openly threatened by US President Donald Trump, by the apartheid “Israeli” entity and by the wider Western power trying to break the heart of the Resistance. Iran is still suffering harsh sanctions and looming threats of war. The whole Axis of Resistance is under attack from all sides. The region feels like it’s on the edge.

Yet despite it all — or maybe because of it all — people showed up.

Old men walked with canes to keep up with the crowd. Young boys marched in rows, their voices rough from shouting slogans. Mothers carried their children through the heat, some with tears on their faces. And everywhere you looked, there were pictures of Imam Khamenei held high, with people shouting the rallying cry: “Hayhat minna al-dhilla” — “Far from us is disgrace”.

We walked together in black, carrying more than just sorrow. We carried defiance. A message to our enemies: We will not abandon this path. Not after Karbala. Not after Sayyed Hassan. Not after Gaza or the South. Not now.

What happened in Dahiyeh this year was not just a religious ceremony. It was a political statement. The Ashura march this year was the voice of the Axis of Resistance — a movement stretching from Beirut to Tehran, Damascus to Sanaa, Baghdad to Gaza. It’s a movement under siege by global powers, but still standing. Still fighting. Still mourning. Still marching.

One participant, holding a flag with Sayyed Nasrallah’s picture, quietly said, “He’s not gone. He’s with us. Every step, every tear, every chant — he’s here.”

This year in Dahiyeh, Ashura wasn’t just about remembering. It was about renewing. In the shadow of martyrdom and the weight of threats, people walked with heads held high. Not just to mourn — but to say to the world: “We’re still on this path. We’re still Imam Hussein’s people. And we won’t forsake him”.

This year’s march wasn’t just any march — it became a living testament to Sayyed Nasrallah’s legacy, a march full of love, loyalty and quiet but strong defiance.

This is for the martyrs — whose sacrifice we can never fully repay. For their mothers, who carry an unbearable pain with quiet strength. For their children, who grow up too soon knowing what loss means. For the families left behind, who give more than words can ever say. And for Imam Khamenei, our protector, and for Iran — may they stay safe and strong. We hold them in our prayers, our loyalty and in our promise to never abandon this path.