Twenty years ago when I arrived in Fes, I discovered my visa was running out for Spain and since I had to travel to Germany by land to catch my flight home I disappointedly boarded the next bus to Ceuta the following morning. I spent the night in the Ville Nouvelle, I did not see the old city. I did not see Fes. And it always seemed like unfinished business.
When we stepped off the train in Fes from Casablanca and took a taxi to the ancient medina it was a moment of sheer elation. After so many years of longing, we were finally there. Fes medina is now filled with luxury riads and I was tempted to choose a middle range one simply because we might never have that opportunity again to sleep in such a resplendent sign of our tradition. We were met at one of the many gates and taken to our destination by a man with a cart, red faced and puffed after what seemed like a sprint through the labyrinth alleys of the medina. The ancient medina is a car free zone, only accessible by foot or donkey.
Before you arrive in Fes everyone warns you that you will require a guide. It is impossible to find your way around at first because all the alleyways look the same and it is difficult to find any markers of landscape. I thought we were adventurous enough to try it without a guide but after our first day in which we walked in circles and did not find any of the landmarks we were looking for I decided to be a sensible tourist and do what we were told.
Considering it was only three days since we had left Australia the impact of visiting these places is very difficult to put into words. It was just overwhelmingly beautiful. It seemed fitting that we started with Masjid Moulay Idriss II because he was the founder of the city and the son of Sheikh Moulay Idriss I who is considered the Father of Morocco. It seemed that through greeting him, it was like greeting the whole country and it’s rich history and honouring the beauty that brought me into Islam in the first place. As I was standing in the courtyard I heard a voice cry out ‘Marhaba Hajja!’ and I turned and realised an old man was talking to me so I in a somewhat startled voice replied ‘shukran/thankyou’ to which he said ‘Yes! Shukran!’ and went back to sweeping the fountain. Later I discovered that H had taken a photograph of him at some point during our visit.
It was locked but there was a phone number on the door and my guide rang the number and soon a woman came and opened the door. My camera battery died the moment she opened the door. We entered into a lovely courtyard filled with fruit trees, it was still a family home tended by his descendants.
I think my expectation got the better of me on this visit, I had longed to visit here for so many years that to be standing there and with a rather stroppy ten year old, just left me not knowing what to do. It was only when we left and I thanked the woman and took her hand that those expectations just dissolved briefly and with tears in our eyes we said goodbye and stepped back outside the courtyard walls. She invited us back for the Thursday night dhikr but I had no idea how we would find our way there alone in the dark as it was quite a long way from where we were staying.
That night I lay on the bed in my room and imagined the dhikr that was occurring and how much I longed to be there. And I thought about how that was such a common theme in my experience, sometimes being so close to these things yet not being able to partake. And I stared up towards the incredibly high ceiling in the room and it felt as if we were sleeping in the very heart of the universe.
Fes felt like the heart of the world and I was so grateful to be there.
The following day we found our way back to Al Qarawiyyin for the Jama’a prayer. To be able to pray Jama’a beside the courtyard was a wonderful experience. And something we returned to do again when we visited Fes for the second time just before returning to Australia. The second time with my lovely friend M who had come from Belgium for us to be able to meet in Fes!
And still, every Friday now, I transport myself back here in my memory.
The film Fez – City of Saints is available to watch on Youtube.
If a man could grasp the bliss of his secret
he would shed a tear with every breath he breathed.
Sheikh Muhammad ibn al Habib, Diwan
When we arrived in Meknes I had no idea where the Zawia was but after some quick messaging to my friend in Edinburgh we worked out that it was just around the corner. I was so grateful for these instructions because the entrance is not marked and there is no way we would have found it without them.
We entered through the narrow alleyway and into the main room. After visiting Sidi Ali al Jamal in Fez I was again struck by the simplicity of the Darqawi Zawia’s in comparison with the opulence of some of the more famous Sufi orders. The space was empty except for an old man seated by the foot of Sheikh Muhammad ibn al Habib’s grave. We gave salams and as poor H was still feeling sick we asked if we could use the bathroom. The old man who was both blind and deaf led us to the door and unlocked it for us.
A little later we sat down on a majlis area and H fell asleep.
The old man started reciting from the Diwan of Sheikh Muhammad ibn al Habib.
This is a very special place.
Later H woke and it was time to pray maghrib. The old man made the call to prayer and a younger man who obviously loved him very much joined him. We prayed with them and then H asked to go home.
I really longed to know who the man was, to know his name. The whole experience had been wonderful. Because I am not connected to any groups where there is an actual physical presence between teacher and student these kinds of events are enormously significant to me. They are impossible to write about and there is no need really other than as a marker of gratitude and a means of recording details for later times when the memories may not be as clear.
Later back in Australia and scrolling through Facebook I suddenly saw a photograph of the old man and I was delighted to find out his name.
From Signs on the Horizons (THE CARETAKER)
I first met Sidi Ali in 1973 and heard this story from his lips. He was living in the zawiya, helping Sidi l’Ayyashi to take care of the premises. When Sidi l’Ayyashi passed away during the 1980s, Sidi Ali became the guardian of the zawiya. Completely illiterate, he has memorized large parts of the Qur’an and the entirety of the Diwan of Mohamed ibn Al Habib in addition to many Prophetic traditions, wisdom sayings and odes from the Sufis. He’s now totally blind and mostly deaf. He carries a card from the Moroccan government certifying that he is officially indigent (miskeen) that entitles him to beg, which he sometimes does when the guests in the zawiya need to be fed and there is no money. He flashes this card with a mischievous laugh. When I saw him in 1981, he told me proudly and with a chuckle, as if he had achieved the impossible, “You know, I got married.”
I don’t have permission to post the photograph but it doesn’t matter because not so long after this I finally purchased a copy of The Meaning of Man and there amongst the photographs he was again.
At the very top of Jabal Alam ( a mountain) is the shrine of Sheikh ibn Mashish, said by many to be the Grandather of Moroccan Sufism and one of the great Sheikhs of the Shadhili Darqawi Path.
This is a place I wanted to visit for a very long time. One of his grandson’s founded the town of Chefchaouen, the blue city that I fell in love with so intensely almost twenty years ago.
I wondered how we would get to the top of the mountain, I was nervous about just hiring a grand taxi and travelling a remote mountain road with few people and only wild cows for company! It seemed a bit reckless. But as it turned out, I need not have worried, one of the young men who worked in the place I stayed in Chaouen was from the town of Moulay Abdesselam and when I asked him about how to get there (not realising it was his family’s home town) he was very happy to be able to take us. So we travelled safely and later had lunch with his family in the town.
It was a really wonderful day and serves as inspiration for me now that I am back in the ordinary. There were difficulties that I now realise were really blessings. We set out with good intentions making sure to have wudu/ablution (ritual purity) but I lost it and after a series of events ended up at the summit without it.
Such a beautiful place. I need miracles. In my ordinary life my faith can fluctuate so much. At times when my faith is poor I remember these experiences. The summit of this mountain is an outpouring of beauty. I thought the trip was a disaster and I gave up all my expectations and I gazed out over the village below.
Then all encompassing Mercy, the most indescribable drenching in wonder, it is impossible to put into words and I only record it because of my struggles with faith. There is immense barakah in places like this and once experienced it can’t be forgotten no matter how stale we may become.
Our time at the top of the mountain was brief, we stopped by a roadside stall to buy some meat and then Muhammad took us to have lunch with his family. I sat with his aunt Aisha in this little dark room that looked out across the supremely beautiful vista across the mountains. I was quite overcome by the whole event and I couldn’t help but cry. I still cry thinking about it now that it seems so many lifetimes away.
The other day I came across the story of when Imam Shadhili first encountered Sheikh ibn Mashish and although I had read the story before I had not recalled the section about ablution. Reading it recently I was just overcome by gratitude and that incredible awe that you feel when you realise the marvellous patterns that God weaves in our lives. Some would call it coincidence but I don’t see it that way.
He went forward in reverence and awe to meet his Master, who greeted him with the words, “Have you made ablution (wudu)?” When Abu al-Hasan answered him saying, “Yes,” he was told, “You cannot come to us in a state of impurity. Return and make wudu.” So Abu al-Hasan returned to the bottom of the mountain, remade his ablution and climbed again to its top, and having reached the presence of the Shaykh, asked him if he would accept him as his student.
The Shaykh replied, “I told you to return when you had purified yourself with the ablution.” Once again Abu al-Hasan returned to the bottom of the mountain with the question for his rejection turning in his heart, until he was shown what was necessary for him to do, because he came to realize the meaning of this initial trial and test, and the depth of the purification which it was necessary for him to make before he could enter into the Path of Allah with this holy Shaykh.
This time, as he made his ablution, he emptied himself of everything that he knew, or thought he knew, or that he had learned and taken in from other teachers, and he destroyed all his attributes, pictures, and prejudices, until he knew that he was left with only a vast space of nothingness inside him which was waiting to be filled. He was now totally surrendered to whatever this Master, whom he desired with all his being, would send him.
He climbed once more to the top of the mountain, but before he reached its summit he was met by the Master who greeted him by pronouncing his full line of descent back to the Prophet Muhammad, may prayers and peace be upon him.
The Shaykh now embraced him with the deep Love of acceptance. He could find no words with which to return the greeting, but the Master said to him, “If you wish to fetch water, you take an empty bucket to the well to do so. A full bucket has no room for water.” With these words he took his beloved student by the hand and filled him to overflowing with the holy Water.
Afterwards Abu al-Hasan said: “Allah! I have washed myself of my knowledge and my actions so that I do not recognize any knowledge or action except what comes to me by the hand of this Shaykh.”
The knowledge of this ablution has become the habitual practice (sunna) for all those of this holy Path who have followed after him, because it is the only way to reach the knowledge of the Reality, and the Light from that meeting continues to pour out without ceasing to both the East and the West.