Badr : preserved for those who can find it

In the name of God, Most Merciful, Most Kind,

* * *

The small, palm tree oasis of Badr appears like a mirage amid the piles of dusty mountains framing a highway that twists as if to nowhere.


My husband triumphantly drives on.

"It's here," he says, a smile playing on his lips and I can almost feel him imagining the battle that took place over one thousand years ago between Prophet Muhammad, may peace be upon him, and his companions, against the people who had driven them out of Mecca for believing in one God.

We stop to ask directions to the sacred ground that holds the bodies of the martyrs who died in that first battle of Islam, fought in the second year after the Muslim migration to Medina. The deserted restaurant and playground speak of a time when tourists perhaps visited here, but now the history of the place has been all but snuffed out, and the few visitors who venture here have no idea where to go.

"Why aren't there anymore signs," I wonder aloud, as my girls jump up on down on the car seats, peering out the window. "Where are we going, mama?" asks the eldest, a bit drained after a day sightseeing at a port city nearby. She didn't understand why we had detoured away from the way home.

How to explain that we were going to where the Prophet, may peace be upon him, had famously challenged one of the most superior tribes of Arabia as a then insignificant but irritable thorn in their side -- and won? (Muslims, 313, & poorly equipped, against a rich army of about 1000).

I offer some simple explanation as we drive through the town of practical cement buildings, wide leafy roundabouts, and austere mosques, all complimented by a fading orange sun.

And finally, we think we've found what we are looking for. A white sign juts out of a tiny hill, circled by cars full of explorers like us who peer at the list of names of the companions who died trying to defend Islam that auspicious day in Ramadan, 2 AH --17 March, 624 AD.


But where was the battle fought?

"I'm going to ask that officer," my husband says, he stops the car on a ridge, overlooking sunken land, full of tired looking palm trees, straw and a makeshift water pump. I watch the man heave himself up from his chair, seated with a few others as if for a simple afternoon chat, and wave away my husband. He does the same to countless others who seem to be asking the same question. It's his job. My husband returns, scowling.

"I can't believe it," he says, starting the ignition as the girls hop around in the back. "What happened," they ask, as if caught up in the drama of it all. I, on the other hand, can already guess.

"He won't tell you - they don't want people to know where it is," I say, trying to fight the feelings of anger and disappointment that had threatened to shatter the peacefulness of Medina a few months earlier when we first discovered these concerted efforts to cover up information about cherished Islamic sites because of a fear that these historic places would be turned into shrines, a no-no in Islam, true, but unjustifiable when it leads to this.

Grabbing his phone, my husband starts dialing frantically. "He won't stop me," he says, his forehead creasing. We pass a map of the area, painted on a wall, and I'm reminded of the contradictory nature of the powers that be.


They'll paint me a picture to tell me that I'm near the site of an incredibly important historic site, and yet, they won't tell me where it is. Just like in Medina where garbage has buried the site of a companion's well, and they've put up a sign to tell me that the area within the fence is important historically - but not for what reason.

Then, like now, my partner-in-historic-reclamation, calls upon scholars to figure out the mysteries that should be public knowledge.

"We're here," he says into the phone, as we drive, retracing the grooves in the road as the shadows grow a bit shorter and the day starts to fall. "There is a large mosque, look behind it, near...." he takes directions and I wonder what we'll see, anyway. I imagine a stark desert scene, the same scene I often associate with anything to do with Prophetic history. How wrong I am.



Instead, I catch my breath when we finally creep onto the site where we believe the battle actually took place. Even if no one had told me that this was where it happened, I would have instantly known that it was. The palm trees gave away the secret. They were the only palm trees who appeared absolutely dead, wilted, wilted completely and so utterly compared to any other tree in the vicinity - any other tree, anywhere. They had been humbled.



As we move closer, around the pristine mosque which shielded a well perhaps the one mentioned in the story about the encampment, we came across what surely was a scene untouched.




One could almost feel the presence of the Muslims that day, waiting for the Quraish tribesmen to appear over the hill ahead, who were no doubt expecting a quick win against a poorly equipped band of renegades. But that ragtag army, according to the Quran, was supported by God, and His Angels that day, because it consisted of sincere believers in a monotheistic faith which confirmed prophets of yesteryear; among whom were Moses, Jesus and Abraham, may peace be upon them all.




Why couldn't there be a sign to tell us of the importance of this sight? Why was it only known to a few fortunate souls? The man who had told my husband where to look, his teacher, his shaykh, tried to phone up some locals to meet us and provide a guided tour that very few would ever take. He phoned us back to tell us that the authorities had turned up the heat on anyone who offered such services to us misguided folk. Indeed, a truckload of angry looking men drove by and stared at us, but thankfully drove off without incident. Nevertheless, their reach meant we wouldn't be able to get to where the martyrs were buried. So the secrets would remain secrets, to be preserved by God Alone.

"God gave you the victory at Badr , when ye were a weak force. So observe your duty to God in order that you may be thankful." [Qur'an, Chapter 3, Al-Imran, verse 123]

"O ye who believe! When you meet an army , hold firm and think of God much , that you may be successful . And obey God and His messenger , and dispute not one with another lest you falter and your strength depart from you ; but be steadfast! Lo! God is with the steadfast. [Quran, Chapter 8, the Spoils of War, verses 45-46]


For the benefit of the doubt:

Perhaps if these places did become touristic sites, their integrity would be harmed. However, it seems strange that the authorities would allow pilgrims to visit Uhud in Medina - so well-known that it is perhaps impossible to keep secret - considering the Muslims suffered a terrible defeat there. They lost that battle because some of the archers that day forgot the Prophet's instructions not to leave their positions. They couldn't resist going after the booty when the enemies initially turned back. So off they went after the spoils of war, before the battle was won, and the enemies returned and beat back the Muslims.

Or, is it more than a coincidence that we can visit Uhud and not Badr at a time when many Muslims think more of the luxuries of this world, than those promised to the God-fearing in the next life?