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One evening, I took my mom up to a place I had visited before with friends, and would later return to with the Rujulah Retreat attendees: the Merinides Tombs. They overlook Fez from the opposite side of the Bab al-Futuh cemetery, and are the ruined tombs of the Merinides dynasty royal family.
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I, my parents, my sister, and two of the daughters of my Sheikh went on a spur-of-the-moment road-trip to Al Hoceima, a city in the north of Morocco on the coast of the Mediterranean. The route we chose was on snakelike roads, winding and twining and clinging to the edge of the mountains, roads upon which drivers roared down and around corners like there was no such thing as oncoming traffic. It was both a terrifying and absolutely brilliant drive.
The last time I saw clouds like this was in Istanbul, Turkey. It's a double cloud shadow, which i think means that the highest part of the cloud is casting a shadow on its lower part.
And then we crested one final hill, and below us was Al-Hoceima, a city like pearls strung along an azure coast. It was really pretty, is what I'm saying.
our hotel room right on the beach
purple mountains at sunset!
a sky so clear you can photograph the stars while in the city!
We arrived in the evening, got our hotel rooms, broke our fasts, and went to sleep. My sister and I spent the night on the balcony, listening to the sea. At dawn, the daughters of my Sheikh and I went down to the beach for a little morning meditation and recitation of the Quran, and then waded in the water.
There were jellyfish!
There were jellyfish!
The water was crystal clear and warm...
via Instagram
By midmorning we had packed up and left. This time, we took a route along the coast back to Fez, passing through some of the most incredible terrain. The earth was red as Mars in places, and the hills looked like they belonged in an alien world.
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Around the middle of Ramadan, my family and I and a group of international students we'd befriended went to pray tarawih (supererogatory prayers done in Ramadan) in the Kairaouine. Praying under the stars, surrounded by hundreds of people, was an incredible, mindful experience.
Afterwards we headed out to do some mausoleum visits. Some, but not all, would be open late on Ramadan nights.
The doors to the Kairaouine
We went first to the mausoleum of the Muslim saint Ahmed Tijani. We begged entry as they were just then locking the doors and we were graciously welcomed in. It was empty save for its caretakers and the disciples of the saint. Every inch of it was resplendent with intricate design, but it was not at all overwhelming, almost organic instead.
Finally, we came upon innocuous if pretty doors of what seemed to be a shop. In fact, it used to be a store when one night the owner dreamed of the Prophet (ﷺ) entering his shop. This inspired the owner to turn his shop into a zawiyah; a place dedicated to the remembrance of God and his Prophet (ﷺ). It is only open for mawlids; a celebration specifically for the Prophet's birth (ﷺ). In the Muslim tradition, all dreams of the Prophet (ﷺ) are visions of his actual presence.
I'll leave you with a short, inexpertly shot and edited video I took after praying...
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We spent only a few days in Essaouira, and then it was back to Fez and our temporary home. Before leaving, we stopped at this beautiful landmark that reads 'Barakatu Muhammad' (ﷺ).
The adventures didn't stop just because we were heading home though! On our way back we came across a women's co-op for argan products. My parents stopped there to buy argan oil for their business, happy to support a small business that was fair-trade, organic, and dedicated to helping local women.
Then we were back on the blazing road...Until my mom urged us to stop and look at the argan trees surrounding us (it was an empty road and quite safe to pull over on).
We started driving again before practically screeching to a stop, yelling excitedly. Why? Well...
That baby goat was the softest, warmest, sleepiest animal I'd ever held, and I'll never forget the experience.
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Our parents left us after breakfast, heading back to Marrakech to shop for their store Al-Kahf. Delighted to have free reign, us kids headed straight to the beach. The water was cold but we didn't care. After lapping in the water and sunbathing on the sand, we decided to go looking for lunch in the fortress.
It was a fairly quiet souq, which probably had something to do with it being siesta time. Still, we poked around various sleepy restaurants and cafes before deciding on a tiny little place which smelled heavenly and was brightly painted. There, I and my brothers ordered mini tajines, while my sister ordered spaghetti bolognese. It was delicious.
It was a fairly quiet souq, which probably had something to do with it being siesta time. Still, we poked around various sleepy restaurants and cafes before deciding on a tiny little place which smelled heavenly and was brightly painted. There, I and my brothers ordered mini tajines, while my sister ordered spaghetti bolognese. It was delicious.
via Instagram
Essaouira has a lovely feel to it. It's calm and quiet and peaceful, like the ocean has smoothed away its rough edges. The ancient architecture reminds you of sleeping ghosts, history under every stone and behind every door. It feels...authentic.
Two days later and our parents had returned. With them came the Muslim holy month, Ramadan. There's nothing like fasting while at the beach. You're simultaneously starving and soothed by the sea-smell. After breaking our fast we headed out together to stroll through the fortress. It was alive with music and people breaking their fasts and enjoying the sights.
Two days later and our parents had returned. With them came the Muslim holy month, Ramadan. There's nothing like fasting while at the beach. You're simultaneously starving and soothed by the sea-smell. After breaking our fast we headed out together to stroll through the fortress. It was alive with music and people breaking their fasts and enjoying the sights.
The Ramadan moon, clearer than I've ever seen it.
That night we had a magnificent fish dinner so fresh the flavours flooded your mouth. We chose from the catch of the day whilst sitting right on the quay, and it was cooked for us and flavoured with lemon, salt and pepper. My mom was in raptures of delight, she hadn't had seafood like this since she last visited the Bahamas, where she grew up.
On a whim, we also ordered sea urchins, having never tried them before. They taste like and have the texture of phlegm, salt, and sand. It was gross, but at least I can say I tried it!
On a whim, we also ordered sea urchins, having never tried them before. They taste like and have the texture of phlegm, salt, and sand. It was gross, but at least I can say I tried it!
Another night, we went for a post-dinner cafe hunt, and found Regragui Cafe and Restaraunt. It's family-owned and run, and the people there were so incredibly friendly, welcoming us like long-lost friends, serving us the best pastilla I've ever had and copious amounts of tea, and excitedly showing us their renovations. They even took us up to their roof!
The sky was so clear that I got an as-seen-by-the-eye shot of the stars!
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From Marrakesh we drove halfway through the night to our next destination: Essaouira! This fortress-city on the coast of the Atlantic was no place I'd ever been to before, but at that point I was so tired I was only thinking longingly of bed.
We drove and drove, the highway cutting through barren desert and small neon-lit towns, the stars wheeling overhead. I sat with my head craned up for hours, slipping into and out of a doze, the smell of salt and sand growing stronger.
We drove and drove, the highway cutting through barren desert and small neon-lit towns, the stars wheeling overhead. I sat with my head craned up for hours, slipping into and out of a doze, the smell of salt and sand growing stronger.
The hotel we chose was right on the coast and cheerily accepting check-ins despite the lateness of the hour. It was a beautiful place, with a winding white-washed staircase, a pool, and a cozy, semi-open dining and lounge area. The whole hotel is inclosed by a high wall, ensuring privacy. The staff betrayed no hint of exhaustion, helping us with our bags with smiles on their faces.
We burst into our rooms, excited, (the best parts of travelling, for us kids, were always the flights and the hotels), and immediately began to wreak goodnatured havoc in our rush for the beds, the showers, unpacking...
Eventually, we fell asleep.
We burst into our rooms, excited, (the best parts of travelling, for us kids, were always the flights and the hotels), and immediately began to wreak goodnatured havoc in our rush for the beds, the showers, unpacking...
Eventually, we fell asleep.
We woke to the sounds of me sneezing violently, and the plaintive crying of seabirds. My allergies were terrible for our entire stay in Essaouira, which made me pretty miserable, but I still look back on the trip fondly.
We breakfasted in the dining room, wide-eyed at the prettiness of the place. We were alone but for an older French couple and the servers. After eating, we went exploring our quarters. We (or, to be more accurate, I) noticed details that had escaped us in the night. The walls, for example, were mostly curved, and our hotel room had a loft where my parents slept, and two balconies from which you could see over the neighbour's right to harbour.
We breakfasted in the dining room, wide-eyed at the prettiness of the place. We were alone but for an older French couple and the servers. After eating, we went exploring our quarters. We (or, to be more accurate, I) noticed details that had escaped us in the night. The walls, for example, were mostly curved, and our hotel room had a loft where my parents slept, and two balconies from which you could see over the neighbour's right to harbour.
It was probably the nicest, prettiest hotel we had ever stayed in.
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From Imam Suhayli's we returned to Jamaa el-Fnaa's souq, delving on foot into its delightful maze. As it was just after the hottest part of the day-when most take the opportunity to rest and the shops close down-the souq was quieter. There were less tourists, and more native dwellers, milling about in the shadows.
No one could point us directly to Imam Jazuli's maqam (mausoleum), seemingly lost as to who it was we were looking for. Miraculously, their directions pointed to the other Seven Saints we had not visited, and in this way we saw all (or nearly all) of them, though their maqams were often closed. We stopped just outside their entrances to send quick greetings and prayers anyways. And then, at last, we came to it.
It was incredible. Immediately we were engulfed in a sense of sacred, hushed joy. We were alone but for a group of four or five caretakers reciting devotional prayers. The time we spent there was restful and solemn and comforting all at once.
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Our next visit was intended to be the maqam of Imam Jazuli who compiled the Dal'il al-Khayrat, a magnificent book of litanies divided into chapters for each day of the week.
Due to a misunderstanding, our coachman took us to the maqam of Imam Suhayli instead, leading us out of the cramped souq towards the king's palace. We did not mind, and it turned out to be an incredible visit, further compounded by the fact that this maqam is apparently difficult to find or visit.
Due to a misunderstanding, our coachman took us to the maqam of Imam Suhayli instead, leading us out of the cramped souq towards the king's palace. We did not mind, and it turned out to be an incredible visit, further compounded by the fact that this maqam is apparently difficult to find or visit.
On route to the maqam. It's not easy taking photos while in a moving carriage.
There we were greeted by a tiny elderly women in bright blue, with a deeply-lined, friendly face. She was the great-granddaughter of Imam Suhayli and the caretaker of the mausoleum, and welcomed us with a wide smile and open arms, delighted to have visitors.
Imam Suhayli was famous for, among other things, a seven volume commentary on Ibn Hisham's biography of the Prophet Muhammad صلی اللہ علیہ وسلم.
Imam Suhayli was famous for, among other things, a seven volume commentary on Ibn Hisham's biography of the Prophet Muhammad صلی اللہ علیہ وسلم.
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Marrakesh, besides being a hotspot for tourism, is also (and more importantly) the grave-sites of many Muslim saints. As the morning sun rose blisteringly hot above us, we decided to try to visit some of them and pay our respects. We had no firm plans as to who to visit first, but its a family tradition that our best laid plans are spontaneous.
My father waved down a carriage, told the driver our goals, and we piled in, delighted. The first maqam (mausoleum) we arrived at was Qadi Iyad's, one of the most famous scholars of muslim law and author of a wide variety of texts. Read more about him here.
My father waved down a carriage, told the driver our goals, and we piled in, delighted. The first maqam (mausoleum) we arrived at was Qadi Iyad's, one of the most famous scholars of muslim law and author of a wide variety of texts. Read more about him here.
On our way we clattered through streets crowded with wares and foot- and animal-traffic, the walls of buildings often close enough to touch as we squeezed by, donkey brays and hawkers and dogs barking and the clip-clopping of myriad of hooves crowding the air, so that we were pressed on all sides.
Entering the maqam by passing behind a wood door and high walls was like entering a bubble of peace and quiet. All the sounds of the throughways around us were distant mumbles. The courtyard stretched before us, ringed by shadows but blazing at its center. Across the distance of light was a building with green, pyramid-shaped domes, indicating the final resting places of the saints and their attendants and companions.
A baby bird fell with a flutter from its hidden nest just as we approached the main arch. When I bent to check on the poor thing, various boys emerged out of various doorways--the caretaker assistants and some wandering visitors. With hand motions and rattling Arabic I could barely understand, they promised they would take care of it.
When I looked back, the cool cavern of the room of the grave waiting for me, they had gently picked up the bird and were hurrying into the shadows where it would be able to recuperate...
Entering the maqam by passing behind a wood door and high walls was like entering a bubble of peace and quiet. All the sounds of the throughways around us were distant mumbles. The courtyard stretched before us, ringed by shadows but blazing at its center. Across the distance of light was a building with green, pyramid-shaped domes, indicating the final resting places of the saints and their attendants and companions.
A baby bird fell with a flutter from its hidden nest just as we approached the main arch. When I bent to check on the poor thing, various boys emerged out of various doorways--the caretaker assistants and some wandering visitors. With hand motions and rattling Arabic I could barely understand, they promised they would take care of it.
When I looked back, the cool cavern of the room of the grave waiting for me, they had gently picked up the bird and were hurrying into the shadows where it would be able to recuperate...
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Koutoubia Mosque in the morning...
After a deep sleep, we woke bright and early to embrace bright, sunny, heated Marrakech.
My parents, founders and suppliers of Al-Kahf Moroccan Imports Inc., were in Marrakech to shop for their store. Us kids were, of course, happy to delve into Marrakech's glorious souq along with them. It was an Aladdin's cave of wonders: just as full of treasure and spice and anything you could possibly want or need and more that you couldn't have ever wanted or needed, and just as labyrinthine. I'm certain you could get lost for weeks if you weren't careful.
My parents, founders and suppliers of Al-Kahf Moroccan Imports Inc., were in Marrakech to shop for their store. Us kids were, of course, happy to delve into Marrakech's glorious souq along with them. It was an Aladdin's cave of wonders: just as full of treasure and spice and anything you could possibly want or need and more that you couldn't have ever wanted or needed, and just as labyrinthine. I'm certain you could get lost for weeks if you weren't careful.
My favourite thing about the maze-like souq is that its avenues are sometimes tight paths where you brush against people from all over the world, and sometimes broad highways wide enough for donkey-pulled carts and innumerable mopeds, and sometimes just a crack between stalls for cats and small children to dart through.
And beyond products, Marrakech's souq houses incredible artisans and craftsmen, hard at work at their crafts, using both traditional, ancient methods and more contemporary methods interchangeably. Marrakech is truly a city that marries the past and the present without difficulty or complaint.
The video below is of a man hand--er, foot-carving prayer beads.
The video below is of a man hand--er, foot-carving prayer beads.