Walking into the Mosque of Al-Maridani from the busy Bab Al-Wazir Street in Cairo's Darb Al-Ahmar District is like walking into another world. The bustle of the street is left behind as we enter a garden filled with trees and shrubs. The noise of commerce is replaced with silence and calm as we step back over six hundred years and turn our thoughts heavenward for a few brief moments. In its day, the Darb Al-Ahmar District was prime real estate for those who could not build inside the walls of the already overcrowded city. On the processional route from Bab Zuweyla to the Citadel, it was lined with mosques and merchants' houses, displaying the wealth of their builders. Al-Maridani Mosque is well worth a visit. It was built in 1340 by Amir Altunbugha al-Maridani, son-in-law of Sultan An-Nasir Mohamed and cup-bearer at the royal court. To this day it remains one of the finest examples in Cairo of Mamluke religious building. Our purpose here is to reflect on something else, but let us pause for a brief moment to see how beautiful this mosque is. Apart from the garden, the most striking feature after you have entered is the mashrabeya screen which runs the whole length of the main prayer hall, separating it from the garden. Such a screen is not to be found elsewhere in Cairo, except something similar in the Mosque of Al-Azhar. Inside the prayer hall, the Qibla wall is finely decorated with tree motifs, again not found often elsewhere, and the recently restored coloured glass windows give a feeling of calm. It is a place to rest and to pray, apart from the noise and the confusion of life outside. Like many other Mamluke mosques, the entrance has been twisted from the street so that worshippers can enter facing the direction of Makkah. Such a technique was once revolutionary and solved the problem of worshippers walking into the prayer direction of other worshippers, just by shifting the mosque's direction. During Ramadan in years gone by, this would have been one of the mosques along the route of the procession which set out to sight the new moon. The sultan's courtiers would have been accompanied by ordinary folk carrying the now familiar Ramadan lanterns. It would also have been along the route of the Mahmal, or procession which set off each year from Cairo with the kiswah, or cloth that would cover the sacred Ka'aba in Makkah during the Hajj pilgrimage. The last Ramadan I visited, though, the visit to Al-Maridani Mosque left an altogether different impression on me. Only the day before, the whole of Egypt had heard the news of a tragic landfall near the Muqattam hills, destroying life and wrecking lives. In the face of such tragedy, a mosque in Ramadan, so peaceful and calm, seemed a fitting place to reflect on life and death. For Muslims, the holy month truly is a time to think about what is important for them and what their priorities are in this world. When those families went to sleep the night before the tragedy, little knowing that they would never wake again in this world, they maybe called out “goodnight” or wished one another a good sleep. Those they loved most dearly in the world would be taken from them, with no chance of ever speaking to them again. Life is full of “if onlys”. We can blame ourselves forever for the things we didn't do and for the words we didn't say. Instead of looking for blame, though, in such a tragedy, we might learn from it. What does it tell us all, whether directly involved in the disaster or not? It tells us that we should cherish every moment we have with those we hold dear. It tells us never to take for granted the people who are so important to us, since they could be taken from us at any time. It tells us to tell the ones we love that we love them, not when they are gone but while they are still here. And it tells us to thank God Almighty each day for the good fortune we have. Muslims read in the holy Qur'an in Surat Al-Imran: Nor can a soul die except by Allah's leave, The term being fixed as by writing. If any do desire a reward in this life, We shall give it to him; and if any Do desire a reward in the Hereafter, We shall give it to him. Holy Qur'an 3:145
The other lesson we learn from the tragedy is that tomorrow is promised to no one. The mighty and the powerless have no control over their destined time. Each Ramadan, and every day, we have time to reflect on that and to set our lives in order. By walking into a mosque, like that of Sultan An-Nasir Mohamed's cup-bearer, we get the chance to stop and think.
British Muslim writer, Idris Tawfiq, is a lecturer at Al-Azhar University. The author of eight books about Islam, he divides his time between Egypt and the UK as a speaker, writer and broadcaster. You can visit his website at www.idristawfiq.com.
