Salé faces Rabat, on the other side of the estuary of the Bouregreg and the North. I had the chance to attend the March 31 last moussem candles which takes place every year on the eve of Eid al Mawlid, the celebration of feast of the birth of the Prophet. This procession originated in Turkey, where it was imported to Morocco after a Saadian Sultan of the XVI century, on a trip to Istanbul, was impressed by a similar ceremony. This is the patron saint of the city, Sidi Abdellah Ben Hassoun, the Sultan gave the mission to be the first officer of this unique procession in Sale. Today the organization of this procession is the prerogative of the descendants of the saint.
To be more exact, the ceremony began for me the previous Saturday, while with a friend we had left in Salé with the intention of visiting the beautiful madrasa mérinide of time in it. Unfortunately it was closed, but we found vaons Fatah - faux guide his condition, as it has presented itself to us - who was able to make us forget this monument as we walked in the very historiqueme rich medina Salé. We put a foot (in fact I am content to be a big thumb, as I am traumatized by the ban on non-Muslims from entering mosques) in the courtyard for ablutions of the mosque; we went outside the entrance to the house of a famous "psychiatrist" slaoui the XVI century (which can be seen near the marabout borj beachfront) Sidi ben Asher; the souk el Ghezel we saw artisans weave in a small room above the shop where they are sold, the famous covers of Salé, thick, hot and scratchy, the blue color and deliciously tangy blood orange.
Especially, we have to finish this round, had the chance to enter the house where the candles were then still being made in anticipation of next Saturday's ceremony.
A word about this traditional house whose door opened at the end of a small alley walls whitewashed and whose central space surrounded by walls were painted a soft and creamy blue sky. To make the candles, meticulous sculptors melted wax in a tagine, and then plunged into a form consisting of a small handle and a tapered end. When we withdrew it from the tagine, the film of wax to coat the, cooling, hardening, and that it was not enough to remove it gently, like the cap of a pen. This collection of small multicolored cones were then placed one by one on the media candles where they stuck them by dipping the tip in a brownish paste. All these little cones pressed against each other, like so thin petals of flowers in a garden, formed a fragile and ephemeral mosaic zelliges day.
The reception of this family of artists was great, as always in Morocco, and I even left with a plate of these cones planted, as well as an ornamental pendant weighted with a wax egg, we should have - but we did not - hide once outside in a bag, as you will understand by reading the following.
For the world, I would not have missed the procession was to take place the following Saturday. A Salty, we learned that she had to leave this house exactly where we were warmly welcomed and where we had been lucky witness the manufacture of candles. We headed toward her again, along with colleagues we met by chance. Soldiers formed a cordon on each side of the street, on both sides of the mouth of the alley. We stayed between the cords, nobody told us anything. A man, wearing a cream djellaba and a vermilion tarbouche - ceremonial robes - invited us, without us asking him anything, to enter the house. He was the member of a very respectable old slaouie family, a descendant of Sidi Abdellah Ben Hassoun, the patron saint of the city mentioned above. Just before entering, we already hear the musicians. A bedecked crowd - family members, relatives or strangers, party clothes, T-shirt or sneakers - huddled in the central space of the house - qu'inondait crystal light - also on the first floor and on the terrace too, and the shadows projected on the blue smooth walls. We visited the rooms where based around the candles pending departure, draped in their fragile garment wax flakes. I took lots of pictures, attracted by the festive atmosphere. I was not the only photographer. A friend of mine thought he noticed a young, he thought to belong to the host family places, railed against the crowd that prevented him from taking pictures in good conditions.
Once back on the street, we waited to wait to see circulate candles. First, men in jabador went before us with the candles from that moment in serious danger of disintegration, taking into horizontal and protecting the recklessness of the spectators. They quickly went to the esplanade of the souk el Kebir, where, over the heads, the candles were, one after the other, erect, a little shaky in the beginning and rights as i. All terraces around the square were filled with people. They even waved flags.
Straight, undulating like a Saharan caravan, the candles were started. We were accompanied by a lady with whom we began the conversation shortly before, when we were waiting for the candles go out of their box: she offered to take a shortcut to join the procession to a place where we could enjoy good the show. As the iron curtain of a small kissaria got up, we rushed it. We took a walkabout in the mall through which traders were a little worried that pass this human tide. We parked a little while, blocked, and then finally out, we continued on our way to the goal that we set.
From there, we saw unfold the whole procession composed as follows: notable musicians, flag holders, candles themselves, jumpers provided valuable gun to the last stand, little girls dressed as brides seated in carriages or worn in aânmaria (chair that looks like a wedding palanquin), brassware towering conical structures for receiving the gift of married, tanks evoking different aspects of Morocco (with the picture of his Majesty King Mohammed VI, his father another evoking the Green March, showing a dove of peace, al-Quds (Jerusalem), the pirates of Salé ...).
The procession had passed. As the sun disappeared behind the horizon, we found near the marabout Sidi Abdellah Ben Hassoun, the final stage of the parade. Spectators stood behind iron gates. Again I was taken aback because we we were just ahead in the bend that goes up to the marabout, and no one told us anything, while uniformed guards - or not - drove back dryly anyone who ventured to Step outside the gates, in the "no man's land." I got the explanation when the candles have appeared, approaching their end, and that young people crossing the barriers have sought to rob them of their one or two wax flowers, so they wear their happiness. Near the marabout, the tension was palpable and candles ran great danger, that of being stripped in seconds by the greed of a few aspiring to happiness ...
Wrong?
The following Saturday, we were again and again in Salé, to visit the madrasa. And we passed by the marabout Sidi ben Hassoun. That day, there was still a crowd! It is seven days after the parade, a candle was transported to the marabout Sidi ben Asher, a little below that of Sidi Abdellah ben Hassoun. Children fluttered outside the doors of it, where a man also offered on a stand inordinate choice nougats most improbable colors each other. In a hallway hung an honest height famous candles which one could see that they had suffered significantly and that the surface had serious shortcomings.
A friend told me the same day, the seventh day of Mouloud, a candle was also conveyed to a marabout Bab el Alou located in Rabat.
This adventure both spiritual and tourist three Saturdays ended behind the wall surrounding the Salt Cathedral, an interesting monument now abandoned Protectorate. Churches and temples Rabat are many and that I deserve fisse find yourself in a future article.
Wrong?
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