Initially, I hadn’t planned for this feature to contain much text. I was hoping photographs could speak for themselves and offer people space to build their own imaginaries in relation to the zaouia.
A building and institution associated with Sufis in the Islamic world.
Spending time in and around the zawaya, I witnessed such a multitude of social dynamics, architectures, energies and narratives.
Plural of zaouia.
To try and convey these through images only began to concern me. Uncomfortable to document rituals and intimate devotional moments through photography, I ended up spending most of my time observing and listening to people’s dhikrs, pleads, stories, and the zawaya’s environments. From all of the zawaya I visited, I ended up only taking photographs in Sidi Ali El Mekki, a zaouia which I found empty during most of my visits. I resorted to text and sound to avoid the discomfort of photographing these intimate spaces, as well as depicting the zaouia as an empty place devoid of social life, an idea which couldn’t be further from the truth.
Sound also plays an important role in this research. Due to gendered spatial separations, I was unable to enter rooms of worship at certain times. By recording sound, I was able to catch some of the voices which poured through the walls. Since the dhikr is such an important element of the zaouia while it brings people together through collective chanting, audio felt like the most direct medium to convey emotions and impressions from these moments of worship (ritualizing togetherness).
Dhikr is a form of Islamic prayer in which phrases or prayers are repeatedly chanted in order to remember God.
The text was born thanks to the generous sharing of experiences and stories by friends as well as visitors and members of diverse zawaya. I would like to particularly thank the communities of Sidi Ali El Mekki, Sidi Belhassen Chedly, Sidi Mehrez, Saida Manoubiya, Sidi Ali Lasmar, Sofiane from Espace Diwan, Nejia, Iheb Guermazi, and Katia Boissevain for supporting my reflections while searching for traces and gestures of commoning in the zawaya.
All photographs were taken by myself with a Leica AF-C1 on Kodak Gold 35mm iso 200.
My quest begins with the following question and curiosity:
How is the land around a zaouia managed? Who owns current-day zawaya? Are they run by the state or private owners? While researching the commons in Tunisia, I’ve often come across the term waqf. Waqf or habs according to its local terminology, is a permanent endowment of property or assets for charitable use under Islamic law. Through the waqf, private landowners in Tunisia were able to convert their property into land which’s sole purpose was to serve the common good. It could neither be bought, sold, donated nor inherited. Several hospitals, mosques, and zawaya in Tunisia owe their foundation to the waqf system.
Waqf, also referred to as habs or mortmain property, is an inalienable charitable endowment under Islamic law.
The waqf status allowed the zaouia to establish itself as an important safety net for many students, travelers and people in need by offering them a place to rest, eat or sleep. Jankowsky (2020) states that shrines, besides being places of worship, served as vital community hubs, offering assistance to the needy, settling disputes, accommodating pilgrims, providing religious education, and hosting recreational activities. In Tunisia, these social institutions have long been intertwined with politics. During the Husaynid era, rulers and subjects alike frequented saint shrines. The beys upheld the tradition of shrines as sanctuaries for fugitives, with many even funding the construction or renovation of shrines for specific communities or revered saints (Brown, 1974). However, their support wasn’t solely altruistic; it also served as a means of integrating and regulating minorities and marginalized members of society who were not part of mainstream social institutions (Montana, 2004).
Plural of habs.
With the waqf system now absent in Tunisia, how do people continue to care for and maintain the country’s zawaya ? I speak to Iheb Guermazi, who is an architect, author, urban historian affiliated with the Al Qadiriya order. He tells me that it is impossible to understand the management of zawaya without looking at the hbous.
Tourouqat: plural of Tariqa. Tariqa al Qadiriyya is a Sunni Sufi order which got its name from Abdul Qadir Gilani (1077–1166), a Hanbali scholar from Iran.
“All the zawaya used to be hbous“
Most of them are houses where saints lived which were later transformed into shrines. Ben Arous used to be the waqf of Sidi Ben Arous. Usually zawaya are given very fertile lands as hbous. The waqf made the zawaya rich, but before they could do their magic, president Bourguiba dissolved the waqf, leading to the disappearance of the majority of zawaya in Tunisia. There was a time when Bourguiba thought very little of Sufism because its ideas and practices stood in opposition to the modernist project. Bourguiba had many zawaya torn down and resettled to Djellaz.
Today the zaouia can only function if they are approved by the ministry of religious affairs who will assess if the zaouia is really needed by its people. Adherents of certain saints can ask for support from the state which has led to some zawaya becoming attached to mosques. This way they get their bills as well as three salaries for one muezzin, one imam, and one worker (mostly for cleaning) covered. The zawaya that have survived are sustained to a large extent through donations from their followers, or from bigger zawaya in countries where the waqf still exists such as transnational Tourouqat like the Tariqa Al Qadiriya which is based in Iraq.
Although the wakf system only dissolved under Bourguiba, it began to decline already during the late Ottoman Empire. Methods were being found to bypass the immutability of endowed properties as some of them were neither cared for or sold. Alongside the wakf status for charitable purposes (wakf khairi), there were also family endowments (wakf ahli), aimed at maintaining property within the family. The abolition of the wakf under Bourguiba posed a significant financial challenge, particularly for maintaining mausoleums. Despite the modern state assuming control over numerous social services offered by shrines, there remained a continued demand for devotional and healing rituals. This demand was now concentrated in fewer shrines and ritual groups that were able to maintain regular schedules of ceremonies (Jankowsky, 2020).
Iheb comes from a family with a long history of Sufi practice. He tells me, “some people like the teachings and values of Sufism but they don’t like the environment or agree with the idea of having a cheikh. There is a big trend to de-islamize Sufism, similar to what happened to Hinduism or Buddhism.
Djellaz Cemetery is a large hillside Muslim cemetery in Tunis, Tunisia, established in the thirteenth century.
A Cheikh is a Sufi who is authorized to teach, initiate and guide aspiring Sufis in the Islamic faith.
Spirituality is detached from God and its devotional practices and what remains are commodifiable symbols, values, and slogans that are ready to be consumed.” Jankowsky (2020) argues that the term “Sufism” is complex and often misunderstood. Western perspectives on Sufism tend to focus on mystical and individual experiences, overlooking its social and communal aspects. This view of Sufism as a universal spirituality accessible to all has been shaped by Orientalist scholarship and commercial interests in poetry and music. However, Sufi practices are deeply rooted in specific cultural contexts and are integral to Islamic traditions. Despite efforts to portray Sufism as a distinct religion or global phenomenon, it remains deeply connected to Islam and local traditions.
My friend Nejia is a devoted member of Tariqa al-Qasimiya, a sufi order with its roots in Kasserine. She visits its satellite zaouia in the Sidi Salem neighborhood of Tunis multiple times a week to join the hour-long dhikr gatherings.
She tells me, “there are two types of zawaya“. The more common model is called Tabarrek, implying that people go to a zaouia, bring a monetary or material donation such as incense, candles, or henna and in return ask for success in love, work or study.
A corner for lighting candles and prayer in Sidi Mehrez.
To bless.
Then there is the Tasawwuf model which is very different. Through tasawwuf people come together to recite the name of God. There are no material donations, only sharing of time and communion through invocations and meditation.” When I join Nejia for the weekly dhikr at her zaouia, she introduces me to the cheikh. I ask him about the differences between various zawaya and tourouqat. He names several popular zawaya in the capital which he considers have lost their spiritual dimension and have become more about tabarrek than actual devotional practice. A form of fast-religion where a few coins and candles replace hours of dhikr.
Another word for Sufism.
As I tell Iheb about the cheikh’s opinions, he argues that the two models of tabarrek and tasawwuf are not mutually exclusive. “The cheikh of the al-Qasimiya Zaouia may be right about some of the zawaya, but not about el-wali Sidi Bel Hasan for example.
A wali is a saint who is acknowledged for their spiritual influence and divine blessings known as baraka. Sidi Bel Hasan is the common name given to Abu al-Hasan al-Shadhili, a Moroccan Islamic scholar and Sufi who founded the Shadhili Sufi order. The main zaouia is located on the hill of the Djellaz cemetery.
. There’s a split between the muriid, the Sufism of the elite who consider themselves the “real” Sufis, and the Sufism of the aama, the everyday people. The way of the muriid is that you pledge allegiance to a cheikh who will tell you how to pray and take you on a spiritual journey.
Can be translated to “the one who seeks” and is used to describe a novice committed to spiritual enlightenment under the spiritual guide of a cheikh.
Step by step the phrases may change and repetitions of recitations will increase until one reaches a state of soul perfection and sainthood (wilayMuriia). A saint, or a master can then guide others on their spiritual paths. What exactly is recited how and when depends on the tariqa. Each tariqa takes you to the same place but they each have different paths, hence one refers to them as turuq. A saint has the baraka, and can spread it to those around him or her. This can be said of the saints who are believed to have helped people through miracles. Some people only want this part of Sufism and others want everything, but that doesn’t mean that they contradict each other. Those who believe that they do are either afraid of or brainwashed by Salafism. It’s a common thing and unfortunately Sufism has suffered a lot from Salafism. If people gather and recite God’s name thousands of times, then there’s no problem. But when you have people who come and pray to a dead saint while offering him gifts then their mosque might be blown up. Those who fear the Salafis, who are in my opinion the most modernist Muslims of all, are turning Sufism into a dogmatic science with strict rules.
On January 12, 2013, the tomb of a revered Tunisian spiritual leader, Sīdī Bū Sa‘īd al-Bājī, who lived in the 13th century, was set on fire by arsonists. According to Jakowsky (2020), this was part of a series of attacks on similar sites in Tunisia over the span of two years. These attacks were fueled by the release of accused Islamists from prisons and the newfound acceptance of Islamist political groups after the overthrow of President Ben Ali in 2011. The attackers saw these shrines as symbols of a localized form of Islam centered around saints, which they considered to be blasphemous and incompatible with their strict, modern and globally-oriented interpretation of Wahhabi-inspired Salafism. The increase in such attacks led to the cancellation of important pilgrimages and a significant decrease in activities at these shrines.
Iheb is not impressed by what modernity offers as a global project. “It may have given a lot to the Western world but what it gave to Tunis is insignificant compared to what it took from us. It took away forms of social organization that were not allowed by the nation state, which in and of itself is a modern invention. The nation state, which as a system is inherently western, leaves very little space for non approved identities. Voluntarily forms of identity are suppressed and forced ones are enabled. As a citizen of a nation, you have to be Tunisian. However the choice to be a Sufi is yours. We could look at football supporters as one example. Together they create one collective outfit. Adhering to a football team does not necessarily make you a better person. Sufism can be considered a very strong collective identity based on a moral premise. People are linked in an attempt to do good through spiritual practice, followed by good moral practice on the ground. These forms of collective identity were fought when the modern state began to impose its own form of collective identity.
He goes on to tell me about the fluidity of Sufism. “It’s not like football teams”. Take Kharjet Sidi Bou Said as an example. During this two-month period between June and September every year, all of the zawaya of Tunis serve each other.
A yearly sufi festival in Sidi Bou Said, Tunis .
They organize Ziyarat, through which the people of different zawaya visit each other. The end of this season is celebrated with Kharjet Sidi Bou Said which coincides with the end of the harvest season. When farmers finish harvesting their land they give a percentage away to charity (usually 2,5 %). The zawaya that were connected to farmland through their waqf would use the harvest surplus to pay their students or to pay for renovations of the zaouia. Since the abolition of the waqf, this tradition has disappeared.
Forms of pilgrimages or visits to sacred sites in Islam.
Sofien, a devout Chedli and owner of Espace Diwan in the Medina, tells me that in some places in the countryside, the rules of the waqf or “hbous” continue to exist in an informal manner, especially in places where tribal societal structures can still be felt.
A Chedli or Shadhili is a follower of The Shadhili Order, a tariqa of Sunni Islam.
They live on as social contracts that assign certain lands and buildings devotional purposes (relationalize property). In urban environments where every last square inch is privatized and sold off, these social agreements are not as easily kept in place. Sofiane goes on to tell me about how Sufism and the zawaya have changed over time. “When I was little, people had a different sense of time”. Today time means money, every moment of the day is calculated and generosity only exists where there is direct and guaranteed reciprocity (contribute freely). “Tqaddem winti feragh” (you advance yet you’re empty). Sofien is upset about Tunisia’s political and economic perspective which he considers has caused immense cultural and social losses in the name of “progress” and “economic growth”. When I speak to Nejia about her experience with the al-Qasimiya community she emphasizes the deep need of the members of the zaouia to practice the dhikr as it offers them time and space to connect to themselves and God through the recitation of the name of god and music. It’s important to note here that the music of marginalized communities plays a significant role in the overall musical landscape of Sufism, even though it’s often overlooked in mainstream narratives of Tunisian history, music, and society. In his book “Ambient Sufism” (2020), Jankowsky explores in detail the unique ritual practices of women, Jews, and Tunisians of sub-Saharan descent, highlighting their contribution to the creation and spread of musical expressions invocating and honoring Muslim saints. Music serves as a powerful medium for conveying Sufi beliefs and emotions across Tunisian society.
Janakowsky (2020) stresses the significance of shrines in decentralizing and offering alternatives to the bureaucratic and market-driven approaches to care adopted by the state. Shrines advocate for social justice through a radically inclusive form of hospitality that not only offers an alternative to dominant bureaucratic and market-driven charity models but also has the potential to anticipate and contest them. This approach extends beyond challenging secular justice systems and individualized clinical healing methods (Jankowsky, 2010; Mittermaier, 2014; Bellamy, 2011). According to Moroccan feminist scholar Fatima Mernissi, the sanctuaries serve as a space where women can freely express their grievances against societal injustices. These sanctuaries, which house mythical figures opposing the establishment and patriarchy, enable women to develop critical perspectives on their circumstances, identify issues, and seek solutions (Mernissi, 1977: 111).
Sofiane recalls how back in the day, the adherents of a certain zaouia felt a certain moral responsibility to their cheikh, like a moral code which held people accountable when dealing with each other. He tells me, “a Chedli merchant would think three times before cheating someone because he knew that he could be reported back to the cheikh, damaging his reputation in the community.” I mention this example to Iheb. He adds that he doesn’t think anyone should be held accountable for their actions through a cheikh or religious community. “The cheikh will not put you in jail. He’ll try to fix a problem that you’re going through. This type of reform is not necessarily wrong. You don’t have to follow but you do because you think it’s the right thing to do. It’s not coercive or aggressively implemented, it’s something that you choose (shared purpose and values). It’s about being humble enough to acknowledge that no one is perfect. This modern idea of the individual free being is linked to the belief that a human individual is ideal. If you don’t agree with something the cheikh says you can always leave the tariqa.” Iheb considers Sufism a form of self discipline and asks himself why self discipline is so widely celebrated when it’s connected to sports but regarded as “outdated and stupid” when it is about the soul. Unless of course one pays for a godless yoga or transcendental meditation course. “The first thing that is told to you when you join a tariqa is that you’re not so great and the first thing you need to do is work on your ego.”
Citations:
Brown, L. Carl. 1974. The Tunisia of Ahmad Bey, 1837–1855. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press.
Bellamy, Carla. 2011. The Powerful Ephemeral: Everyday Healing in an Ambiguously Islamic Place. Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press.
Jankowsky, R. C. 2020. Ambient Sufism: Ritual Niches and the Social Work of Musical Form. University of Chicago Press, 3-75.
Jankowsky, R. C. 2010. Stambeli: Music, Trance, and Alterity in Tunisia. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.
Mernissi, Fatima. 1977. “Women, Saints, and Sanctuaries.” Signs 3 (1): 101–112.
Mittermaier, Amira. 2014. “Bread, Freedom, Social Justice: The Egyptian Uprising and Sufi Khidma.” Cultural Anthropology 29 (1): 54–79.
Montana, Ismael Musah. 2004. “Enslavable Infidels: Sūdān-Tūnis as a Classificatory Categorization for New Wave of Enslaved Africans in the Regency of Tunis.” The Maghreb Review 29 (1–4): 78–98.
