As soon as I stepped out of the taxi I knew I had chosen the wrong time of day. Without a cloud in the sky, the sun was beating down overhead and the heat was unforgiving. Rookie mistake, especially while fasting.
But we were here now, and the thought of having to explain to another taxi driver in broken Arabic (and even more broken French), that I wanted to go to the cemetery and not a funeral, was more than my Ramadan-in-the-heat brain could handle.
The white-washed graves of Bab al Fatuh (Bab Ftouh) cemetery are spread out upon the grassy hills outside the thousand-year-old walls of Fes al Bali. Named after the city gate beside which it is located, the cemetery is well known as the resting place for numerous saints and scholars who once lived and died within the walls of the medina.
Dotted about among the arch-shaped headstones are small domed mausoleums, qubbahs. I headed towards a cluster of them, knowing they belonged to the Seba’tul Rijaal, the Seven Saints of Fes- gnostics, scholars, spiritual guides, all of whom left their mark on the city in some way.
The graves are tightly packed on the uneven hillsides, and there is no clear order to their placement. Walking over them felt indecent, so I attempted to step along their tiny walled perimeters. When I reached the qubbahs, the gate to enter was locked. Disappointed, I walked away, berating myself silently for not coming earlier in the day (noon during Ramadan is quiet in Fes), but to my relief, a man in a djellaba headed towards me, key in hand. He gestured for me to follow him and we made our way back towards the buildings. Where I had moved awkwardly among the headstones, losing my footing several times, the man jumped, nimbly, from one grave to the next. Taking his lead, I followed suit.
Unlocking the gate, the man moved aside for me to enter. Inside was a sort of open courtyard; straight ahead of us, two thin horse-shoe arches led to a roofed enclosure, while a larger arch led to a domed enclosure on the right side. Inside were the graves of the individuals, beneath the tiled floor. On the wall were plaques in Arabic, stating their names. Among those buried here, on the far right of the qubbah, is Qaasim al Kasaasi (d.1672) master of the Shadhili Darqawi silsila (spiritual genealogy), who was born and resided in Fes, though his ancestors hailed from Andalusia. Read more about his fascinating story here.
The tile work inside the building, though beautiful and exactly what I would expect to see in Morocco, was in disrepair. Tiles were chipped and the paint on the walls was peeling.
By now, several other men had joined us, possibly other caretakers. When they saw I was filming inside the building, they began to sing in Arabic, poems of praise ending with a dua for myself and all those present. They then asked for sadaqah, one man bidding for the others.
I’ll be honest, I walked away from this scene feeling unsettled and unsatisfied, and at first, I wasn’t sure why. Anyone who has visited Morocco knows that being asked for tips forthrightly (though the term sadaqah is probably better in this situation) is pretty much the norm, so this aspect didn’t bother me (and besides, in fulfilling their roles as caretakers of the tombs, in a country were poverty levels are high, why shouldn’t they ask for a little something from visitors?). Though it looked good on the ‘Gram (oh yes, I still uploaded my videos), the whole scenario had felt contrived and performative. The interaction did not feel genuine, and that feeling was only heightened when one of the men tried to remove another’s Yankees cap before I took my photo, perhaps, I wondered, to look more ‘authentic.’
Though Fes is by no means even close to being the most touristy city in the country, it does get its fair share of, what I guess you could call, ‘spiritual tourists’, particularly Muslims from Western countries, such as…well, me. But as with shrines and zawiyas elsewhere in Morocco, I’ve been assured that this practice of ‘paying’ for duas is common even among locals, many of whom are willing participants, so my being a Western tourist was purely incidental. Through that lens, the entire encounter was perfectly understandable, and nothing unusual.
(I learned a real lesson from this encounter, realising that my feelings of dissatisfaction stemmed more from my own faulty intentions and misplaced expectations, but this doesn’t feel like the right place to discuss; if you are curious, I’ve written about it here.)
An elderly woman entered the courtyard and came over to greet me. The men sniggered, though not unkindly, at her attempts to converse with me in English (she knew a couple of words). She had deep lines on her face, few teeth, and the grey-ringed pupils of old age. I enquired of her, “Yusuf al Fassi?“
I followed the woman towards another qubbah close by. She opened the gate, which led to a small walled garden with a beautifully tiled floor. Ahead of us was the small domed mausoleum of Yusuf al Fassi (d.1604) founder of the Fassi zawiya and school, which ran for 300 years. He was a member of the Darqawi silsila and in 1578 he took part in the famous Battle of Ksar El Kebir against the Portuguese.
The woman opened the large, creaky wooden doors, and inside, where one could easily forget the time of day and the heat outside, the floor and one of the walls were adorned far more ornately than the previous qubbah, and in excellent condition. The grave of the Shaykh lay under the floor ahead of us, and the woman beckoned me to the left corner where a long tiled Arabic inscription conveyed a considerable amount of information, though I couldn’t decipher what.
Stepping out of the cool, dark interior of the mausoleum it seemed even brighter and hotter outside. The cemetery is divided roughly into two parts by a road that runs right through it. I knew there was no chance I could visit the other side. By this point the sun (and my fast) had beaten me, and so I decided it was time to head back.
The 12th century Amazigh scholar Sidi Ali ibn Harzihim (d1163) is also buried at Bab al Futuh. Born in Fes, he was the spiritual master of Abu Madyan, taught at the Qarawiyyin University, and was master of a Ghazalian zawiya in Fes. He also stood up against the injustices of the Almoravid dynasty. His mausoleum stands away from the others, and you can read more about his life, and visiting his tomb here. There is also the gnostic Abu Faris Mawlay Abd al-Aziz ibn Mas’ud al-Dabbagh (d.1719); you can read about him here and find the location of his tomb here.
Though I didn’t manage to visit all the sites I had hoped to, and left with the mixed feelings I described earlier (I almost left that part out, but I think honesty is important and my account would have been incomplete without it), I still look back on my visit to Bab al Futuh fondly. I would strongly recommend reading about the individuals buried there before visiting; knowing something about their lives and legacies makes the experience an altogether more meaningful one. Also, don’t visit at midday while fasting 🙂
I am indebted to the Fes Garden of Saints blog, which was useful in locating the tombs and the scholars laid to rest there. Check it out.
For more sites to visit in Fes, read 7 Places to Visit in Fes
