The horde that had betrayed its land to live like rats in another land to fake pride back in its own, gathered in masses at the shrine. The shrine itself was based in the heart of the city, the same city in which they slaved day in and day out while they lived on its outskirts like petty mongrels whist telling everyone of their great life in stories of photographic lies. For one day, their messiah had come to the shrine to make them feel like they had some honor left, that their exodus was not shameful and the petty lies they led as lives were not a disgrace. And the exiled masses loved him for those lies. For one day, they felt their shame subdued, like pain in alcohol, like mindlessness in religion. Their messiah was there. They chanted NaMoh NaMoh.
This is a fictional story and bears no resemblance to anyone living or dead.