The road from Najaf to Karbala is about eighty kilometres and is marked with numbered poles. Along it, for the days around Arbaeen, stand thousands of mawakib: roadside stations set up by families, villages, tribes, trade unions, professional associations and neighbourhoods.
They cook. They serve tea and rice and meat continuously, day and night, to anyone walking. They put out mattresses and blankets. They run generators and charge phones. They wash clothes. They bandage and dress feet, and there are people whose contribution to the pilgrimage is to sit by the road for four days massaging the feet of strangers.
They do not charge, and they will not be paid.
Why this is the content and not the colour
It would be easy to file this under hospitality, of which every pilgrimage route has some. It is not that. The refusal of payment is doctrinally loaded and the participants say so plainly: the walkers are going to mourn Husayn, and to serve them is to serve Husayn. A transaction would convert an act of devotion into a service rendered, and there would then be nothing left of it. Offering to pay a mawkib is not generous. It is a category error, and it is received as one.
There is a second thing the arrangement does. It removes cost as a filter. Because the road is provisioned end to end for free, the walk is available to people with no money at all, which is a large part of why the numbers are what they are. Almost every other mass pilgrimage in the world rations itself by price, by permit or by both.
On the numbers
The figures published by the Karbala authorities run into the tens of millions and would place Arbaeen among the largest annual gatherings of human beings anywhere. They are also produced by the body with an interest in them being large, and there is no independent audit. The honest statement is the one this entry makes: the count is the organisers' own, it is very large, and it is not verified.
The suppression
The scale is recent, and the reason is political. Public Arbaeen processions were restricted and then banned under Ba'thist rule, and walking to Karbala was for years either impossible or actively dangerous. The practice returned immediately after 2003 and grew year on year. During the war with the Islamic State the routes and the walkers were attacked directly, with bombings aimed at the road itself.
The numbers went up in those years rather than down, and participants describe that as the point rather than as a surprising outcome. A pilgrimage that has been banned within living memory is walked differently from one that has not.