TEHRAN, Iran — Black are the streets of Iran. Disheartened voices emanating from huge speakers can be heard wherever you go, and large groups of men and women line up in front of mourning centers, tears in their eyes and signs of sadness on their faces. “Is there anyone to help me?” cries the aza, or mourning, reader, quoting Imam Hussein, the Shiites' third imam and the son of Fatima, the daughter of the Prophet Muhammad. “Is there anyone to help the grandson of the holy prophet?” he continues, as cries get louder. These sounds create the soundtrack of Tehran and other Iranian cities during the days of Ashoura.

Despite its religious roots, Ashoura is not just an occasion commemorated by religious people in Iran; it’s a part of the Iranian collective conscience, something that is treated as cultural heritage, like commemorations of Nowruz, the Persian new year. The values of the historic incident behind Ashoura make it relevant to everyone’s thoughts and beliefs in Iran: Who doesn’t want freedom? Who is against the struggle for reform? Who can’t respect sacrifice?

The aza reader says: “My son Sajjad, tell our followers that I died for truth and justice. Sister Zeinab, be patient, and let all know what happened to us.” He continues to read from the story of Imam Hussein, who, along with 72 companions, was killed in the Iraqi city of Karbala in 680 AD at the hands of Caliph Yazid Bin Muawiya's army, after refusing to grant the new caliphate his oath of allegiance.

In each and every street in Tehran there are mourning committees called “azadari.” Some are managed by families and individuals, others by members of Iran’s paramilitary organization, the Basij. Outside the azadari is a kiosk-like wooden structure where tea and food are distributed to passersby and ceremony participants.