The Mu’adzin of Sefrou II

بِسۡمِ ٱللهِ ٱلرَّحۡمَـٰنِ ٱلرَّحِيمِ

The following is adapted from Signs on the Horizons by Shaykh Harun Michael Sugich. 

 “I made my way to the Siddiqui Zawiya, in the ancient part of Tangiers and, in the time-honoured tradition of the Sufis, requested lodging.  After explaining my circumstances, the caretaker of the zawiyah, showed me to a windowless cupboard behind the qiblah wall of the mosque, with a small bed.  I gratefully accepted. 

The first day I was at the zawiyah, I joined the weekly laylat al-fuqara’.  I sat in the back of the gathering in a state of extreme helplessness.  As qaswa’id from a diwan were sung by the large assembly, I began to remember Haj Muhammad (q.s.) for no particular reason.  His beautiful old face loomed up in my mind’s eye, and filled my heart.  An overwhelming desire to see him welled up within me.  I knew he lived in Tangier, but had no idea how to find him.  I longed to see him and began to weep, his face etched in my memory, the sound of remembrance surrounding me. 

I put my face in my hands, and wept for a very long time.  At the conclusion of the first phase of the invocation, the gathering began to recite the Laa ilaha illa Allah, over and over again, in a wonderful lilting melody I had never heard before.  My weeping subsided.  I looked up, and across the circle, I saw Haj Muhammad (q.s.).  It seemed as if he did not notice me, but when the assembly stood to perform the hadhrah, Haj Muhammad (q.s.) purposefully moved around the circle beside me, and took my hand.  We performed the hadhrah hand in hand.  At the end of the dance, he turned to me, kissed my hand in greeting, and departed.  In a state of high excitement, I rushed to the caretaker of the zawiyah, and pointed out Haj Muhammad’s (q.s.) departing figure.  I asked him if he knew him.  He said, ‘No, I’ve never seen him before.  He never comes here.’”