Fearless Travel

On my second night in Cairo,  I tried going to Al-Azhar mosque - perhaps THE most famous Mosque in the Middle East - because was supposed to be a Sufi (Dervish) ceremony. The “Dervishes”, of which the “whirling” type are but one of the branches, are the mystics of Islam. Most Muslims don’t even consider them to be truly Muslim, like most Jews do not consider the crop of neo-Kabalists out of Hollywood to be true Jews.

Sufi mysticism, however, was responsible for the spread of Islam to areas that were not reached by Arab conquests; parts of Africa, Europe and Asia were infiltrated by Sufis and a version of Islam - which adapted some of the norms of the local culture - was born. When Genghis Khan reached the Middle East, he was already aware of Islam and believed it to be a great religion. In fact, after Genghis Khan’s death, the Mongol leadership of the Middle East quickly converted to Islam, much as the Turkish invaders before them had, because of the ministrations of Sufis.

Sufi literally means “a person who wears wool” in Arabic. Wool clothing is considered to be cheap, uncomfortable, and the minimum necessary for decency. Since most Sufis live an ascetics’ life, the physical discomfort of wool was perfect for mortifying the flesh while revering God. Sufis believe they can attain oneness with God through repetitive, somatic movements. Some rock, repeating the ninety-nine names of God, while others dance.

That night, I had hoped they would have been the dancing type - it would not have been nearly as fun seeing fifty-odd men rocking in unison chanting the appellations of God. Alas, it was all for naught; we were turned away at the door by the guys who guard peoples’ shoes because prayer was underway. It seems we had not only gotten the wrong address, but the wrong time as well - the Sufis were performing further down the street, I would later find out.

Anyway, my colleagues and I (who ranged from 18 to 36 [guess who was 36]) stood around outside the Mosque and soon attracted a crowd of Egyptians. First, small children still in school came up and asked us a myriad of questions in Arabic, most of which I could understand and replied to. Then older children - apprentice coppersmiths, hauling boys, and store-front shopkeepers not a day over 15 - came up and practiced their English on us; not bad for kids who only got a 3rd grade education before having to enter the workforce. Then the older men (though no women) came over and began talking to us. It was really fascinating; many of the onlookers tried to guess our nationality - to them Americans were blon haired, blue eyed Germanic stock it seems. I, with my brown hair and bushy brown beard, was mistaken for a Spaniard and possibly a Muslim. A young man who spoke not two words of Arabic and was of African American descent was guessed to be Egyptian since he looked so much like a simple country peasant from Upper Egypt. I had fun with those two, joking that I was a Spaniard, but decided to become Egyptian when I arrived in Cairo - that brought hoots of laughter. Also, I explained my companion was not Egyptian, but also wanted to become one since all Egyptians were handsome and he wanted to be handsome too. We received many slaps on the back and laughs at that. Then we all excused ourselves and wandered the bazaar called Kkan il Khalili, had dinner and went home. All in all, it was a nice night out even without the Sufis.

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