Al-Shabaka Cemetery in Makkah: A Tale of Loss, Justice, and Eternal Hope
The Pre-Islamic Shadow: Jahiliyyah and the Burial of Daughters Alive
Centuries before the spread of Islam, the Arabian Peninsula was dominated by tribes bound by ancient customs, belief in many gods, and social norms that modern sensibilities find shocking. Among the most tragic of these practices was wa’d al-banāt—the burying alive of newborn daughters. In the harsh desert societies around Makkah, many considered a daughter to be a burden, a source of shame, or a liability in inheritance. Thus babies born female were sometimes buried alive shortly after birth by their own families. This practice was not recorded in neighbouring literate civilizations at the time, so most of what we know comes from later narratives grounded in Qurʾānic verses and Hadīth. Scholars differ over how widespread it was, but there is no question that the Qurʾān confronts and rejects it with moral force.
One vivid Qurʾānic passage stands as testament and indictment of this cruelty:
“And when the female infant buried alive is asked, for what sin she was killed?”
— Surah At-Takwīr 81:8-9. Allah raises the scenario of the female infant, victim of this cruelty, asking in the Hereafter why she was destroyed. Through this lens, Islam speaks: even when no one in the worldly life intercedes for the innocent, in the Divine Court every wronged life will be vindicated.
In pre-Islamic poetry, oral traditions, and later tafsīr, we hear of families decorating a newborn girl, letting her live until she can speak or run, then burying her in a pit when the father decides to expunge the shame. Some sources say they even dressed her in finery on her last day, adorned her, and then told her she was going to visit relatives—only to push her into her grave. These heart-rending stories highlight both the innocence of the child and the cruelty of systemic social ignorance.
Islam Arrives: Moral Revolution and the End of Barbaric Custom
Into this darkness, Islam brought piercing light. Revelation came gradually to Prophet Muhammad ﷺ in roughly 610 CE, not as political force but spiritual transformation. The Qurʾān did not merely condemn wa’d al-banāt; it reframed the value of life so radically that a person’s gender could no longer justify murder. The verse of At-Takwīr is only one among many: “Do not kill your children for fear of poverty. We provide for them and for you. Surely killing them is a great sin.” — Surah al-Isrāʾ 17:31.
And the Sunnah (teachings and practices of the Prophet ﷺ) affirmed dignity for girls and women in countless ways—through his treatment of his own daughters, through injunctions that forbade slighting or preferring sons over daughters, and through rewards promised for those who rejected the buried-alive practice. One hadith in Sunan Abū Dāwūd requires an oath: “Whoever has a daughter and does not bury her alive, nor slight her, nor prefer his sons to her, Allah will bring him into Paradise.”
Al-Shabaka Cemetery: Place of Grief and Redemption
Near the great Masjid al-Haram in Makkah lies a cemetery known variously as Al-Shabaka, also called the “Jahiliyyah Cemetery” by some—so called because it is believed to be one of the locations where pre-Islamic Arabs practiced the burying alive of their daughters. The name “Shabaka” or “Shabeka” has been used on local maps and travel accounts; descriptions place it southwest of Masjid al-Haram, close to the King Abdullah expansion of the Haram.
But perhaps its deepest claim to spiritual significance is that it is believed (though not universally confirmed by classical sources) to be the burial place of Sumayyah bint Khayyat (ra), the first female martyr in Islam. Born a slave in Makkah, married to Yasir ibn Amir, she and her family accepted Islam early, without protection from powerful tribe members—making them easy targets for the Quraysh elite. Her persistent faith, even amid torture and insult, led Abu Jahl to kill her by a spear during persecution.
Sumayyah’s Martyrdom and Legacy
Sumayyah’s story is one of the most piercing in early Islamic history. An elderly woman, poor, belonging to no major tribe—but chosen by Allah’s Mercy for greatness. She was among the “first seven” to manifest Islam—alongside figures such as Khadijah, Abu Bakr, Bilal, Khabbab, Suhayb, and her own son Ammar. They were not just converts; they were symbols of what Islam demands when faith has no fortress.
The Quraysh responded with cruelty. They made Sumayyah and her husband and son stand in the searing sun, forced them to wear iron armour, deprived them of shade. And in the end, Abu Jahl, in fury, stabbed her—some narrations say in her private parts—with a spear. Thus she died, enduring torture rather than renouncing Tawḥīd (strict monotheism). Her husband Yasir was also killed later. And their son Ammar survived to become a Companion under constant trial. When the Prophet ﷺ walked past them as they suffered, he said: “Be patient, O family of Yasir! Your meeting place is Paradise.”
A Place Like Al-Shabaka: Historical Facts vs Tradition
The exact location of Sumayyah’s grave is not confirmed in early classical sources with absolute certainty, and there is some scholarly caution about asserting that Al-Shabaka is definitively her burial ground. Local tradition holds it, travelogues mention it, but among early biographers and historians like Ibn Ishaq, Ibn Saʿd, al-Tabari, etc., there is little that places her grave in what today is called “Al-Shabaka” with certainty. Scholars distinguish riwāyah and taqrīb (approximation) from sound evidence. So while Al-Shabaka cemetery is revered by many as her resting place, the matter remains in category of pious belief rather than incontrovertible historical fact.
Scriptural Foundations: Qur’an, Hadith, and Scholarly Notes
Islamic scholarship finds in the Qurʾānic verses clear condemnation of infanticide. In addition to Surah At-Takwīr quoted above, Surah al-Isrāʾ stresses that fear of poverty cannot excuse the destruction of life. Scholars such as Ibn Kathīr, al-Qurṭubī, al-Rāzī, and others have discussed these verses at length, showing that the divine message abolished not only the act but its root causes—poverty, shame, misogyny, and powerlessness.
Hadīth and narrations also support moral reformation. One hadith related by Qays ibn ʿĀsim: after Islam’s arrival, he realized that during Jahiliyyah he had buried some daughters alive. He asked the Prophet ﷺ what was the expiation; he was told: “Free a slave for each one of them, then sacrifice for each one of them an animals (badanah).” This shows not only condemnation but a chance for atonement.
On Sumayyah’s martyrdom, while some of the details—such as where exactly she was buried—are not explicit in all sources, we have hadīth and biographical narratives confirming she was killed by Abu Jahl during early persecution of Muslims, and that the Prophet ﷺ passed by her family while they were exposed to brutal treatment, saying the words above about Paradise. These are recorded in works like Kitab al-Tabqāt, Annal-Tabarī, and Ibn Hisham’s Sirah.
Thematic Reflections: Morality, Social Reform, and Lessons for Today
- The sanctity of every life: From the womb to grave, Islam teaches that life is sacred. Whether male or female, powerful or powerless, every human possesses dignity because Allah has created them. The past practice of wa’d al-banāt reminds us how social norms can blind societies—if we do not ground morality in revelation and conscience.
- Courage under persecution: Sumayyah’s martyrdom is not merely a historical event—it is a moral epic. An elderly woman, unprotected by tribe, possessing no wealth or status, choosing truth over safety. Her stand invites reflection for communities today: what value do we place on conviction? Even in the face of injustice, whose truth will we defend?
- True equality beyond lip service: Islam did not arrive with laws only—it came with a transformation of hearts and minds. The Qurʾān’s message is consistent: no one’s worth is tied to gender or social station. Discrimination rooted in tradition must always be questioned. The story of burial of daughters—and the punishment, and atonement—emphasize that.
- Justice deferred is justice assured: That we do not have many worldly records of every atrocity does not mean they are forgotten. The Qurʾān promises that every oppressed will be heard, every injustice judged on the Day of Resurrection. Even infants buried without witnesses will be questioned in the eternal court.
- Memory and tradition: Places like Al-Shabaka, even if their exact veracity is not perfectly preserved, play a vital role in keeping faith history alive. They serve as reminders, physical anchors of spiritual lessons. To visit, imagine, reflect—this is part of preserving the sacred legacy.
Walking the Grounds: Imagining Al-Shabaka Today
Close your eyes and picture yourself in the steaming heat of western Saudi Arabia. The desert air presses against your skin. You approach the edge of Masjid al-Haram, then turn southwest, streets humming with pilgrims, shops, LED screens and hotel lights everywhere—except here. Al-Shabaka cemetery lies quietly nearby, an unassuming plot of graves, modest tombstones or none at all, enclosed perhaps, but not lavish. It is a place of solemn gratitude, sorrow, and reflection.
You walk among the graves, the dust underfoot, the dry wind rustling. You pause by what local tradition says is Sumayyah’s spot: perhaps a little flower, or a shaded marker, or maybe just a simple stone. No grand mausoleum, no gold—just faith. You imagine her, old, frail, enduring torture, offering no word except belief, until the spear struck. You see the pit where pre-Islamic infants might have been placed; disturbing, yet here as a living memory. You think of those hidden cries, unrecorded by human historians, but remembered by Allah and by scripture.
You stand still. Above, the minarets of the Haram call the faithful to prayer. Below, beneath the sand, lie bones, stories, prayers. And you feel something swell in your chest: gratitude that such evils were abolished; sorrow for what was lost; responsibility that you live in times shaped by such sacrifice; hope that your life, small though it is, can honor those who spoke truth at terrible cost.
Conclusion: A Reflection that Transforms
Al-Shabaka Cemetery is more than a spot on a map—it is a mirror to our humanity. It reflects our capacity for cruelty when custom blinds us, but also our capacity for resistance when faith illumines us. It stands as tribute to the nameless infant, buried alive but spoken of in Qurʾān, and to Sumayyah, the woman who refused to be silent in the face of oppression. Their voices echo across centuries.
For Muslims today, walking past Al-Shabaka (or its symbolic equivalent), let us remember: life is precious regardless of gender; justice is not merely legal but lived; standing for truth may cost us dearly, but faith fulfills what our kind of time demands. Let the story of Sumayyah inspire our daily choices—kindness to those despised, courage to speak when silence is easier, integrity when compromise seems tempting.
May Allah grant mercy to those who suffered, reward the martyrs, elevate the status of those oppressed, and make us among those who remember well, live well, and act justly. And perhaps, in our reflections by the dusty grave, in whispered duʿāʾs, we touch something divine—remembrance, humility, hope—that transforms not just our gaze, but our lives.
