Blagaj Buna - The Sufi Tekiya

The next morning, Semir did bring us honey from the bees in his field and we all sat down to a big breakfast of freshly baked bread, jam, cheese, coffee and fruit tea. The area surrounding our cottage is picturesque. Several streams run through the fields behind the cottage. The cottage itself is is built of stone and its courtyard grows a few fruit trees.



"The kiwi will be ripe in September," said Semir as he pointed above our heads to a network of vines that resembled those of grapes. We could see lime-colored, oval shaped fruit with little colorful flower blossoms above our heads. "Wow," we gasped; I don't think any of us had really seen kiwi as it grows before.


Before taking off to our next destination, Abosondos promised to take us to a Sufi Tekke next to the big river - Buna River- running in the area. We packed our bags in the van and took off on what was supposed to be a 15 minute walk.


A tekiyya or zawiya refers to a place of isolation and worship used by sufi orders to close themselves off from the demanding world outside and dedicate themselves to worship and meditation. This place is usually a little room or it could be as big as a house. It is usually simply furnished to reflect the value of zuhud practiced by man sufis.


It was more like half an hour before we finally met the large wooden gates of the tekiya, but it was an enjoyable stroll. The river splashed our clothes as we walked on a hilly path. Fruit vendors were everywhere and we picked up some ripened peaches and figs to keep us entertained on the way. Oh and figs here are a bright green, even when they are perfectly ripe :)


The zawiya/tekiya we are visiting belonged to the Khalwati Order and before that to the Bektashi. Today, most pople who go to Blagaj Buna belong to the Naqshbandiyya Order. I've been reading about the Naqshbandi Tariqa in Turkey and Syria and so I was especially excited to see the place. Sufi orders played an important role in spreading and maintaining the Islamic faith across the Islamic world. Especially in Turkic and Caucasian states , Sufism remains one of the strongest spiritual inclinations among practicing Muslims. I am personally impressed by this particular order, specifically in the Ottoman lands during the 17th and 18th centuries. It's very interesting to see the extreme divergence between Sufism during those eras and Sufism today; and the difference between turuq in Turkey or the Caucuses and the Arab world.


I asked to have a look at their thikr booklets which would include all the awrad that are read on a regular basis by the followers of the order, but they told me the booklets were looked up! I didn't really believe what the man said, but I decided I wouldn't push my luck any further.


We took off our shoes and climbed a wooden staircase. The place had this airy feel to it; all the walls were white and the glass windows looked over the placid, blue-green river. As we entered the rooms, we came across the grave of an important wali related to the tariqa. The place was old. I can imagine how strategic the location was. The tekiya was at the mouth of the river, in an extremely isolated yet miraculously beautiful and serene surrounding. Worshipers looking for a quite place to meditate could not have found a better place.


Downstairs there was a busy little bookshop that sold some souvenirs for the tourists. Among prayer rugs, rosary beads (sibhas) and prayer hats, there was an interesting collection of books. Only a few were in Arabic, fewer were in English but of course the rest were all in Bosnian. I could only understand the transliterated titles; al-Risala al-Kusayria, Risal-e Nur for Said Nursi, a book for the Syrian Said Hawwa and most surprisingly, several books translated from Amr Halid's (Amr Khaled) writings!! I picked one up and went to the shopkeeper, who already did not seem to like me much because of my intrusive questions. I said in a mixture of broken languages, "What do you think of Amr Halid from Egypt?"







He answered back with a very positive expression; it was quite interesting that Amr Khaled's books are being read in Bosnia! I began to become slightly convinced of my supervisor's comparisons between Amr Khaled and Fethullah Gulen of Turkey and of his ideas on the supremacy of televangalist sufi spirituality across the Islamic world today. It is ironic to me however that the success of this phenomenon is tied to a commerciality that should be totally isolated from the non-materialistic concepts of spirituality and sufism.


The walls were all decorated with paintings of the Arabic word, 'HUWA', which is used in many Sufi texts to refer to Allah. I once read an old scripture written about a 1000 years ago. It was dedicated to explaining the meanings of "هو". I sat in Al-Azhar's library in the Mashyakha's premises, barely grasping any of the content because I was struggling to read the intricate Arabic script.







I love the scenery here. We are sitting on a flight of stone steps. The river has disappeared into a cave which makes us so keen to swim into it, just for the adventure. I drifted away into thought and contemplation; I could feel my spirit connect to the peaceful worshipers who once tread these footpaths centuries ago.


8/7/2010
8.20 am
Blagaj Buna
Mostar, Bosnia

Sarajevo

We are in Sarajevo, the city I had longed to visit throughout my life. People who know me well, have definitely heard me say, "I want to visit Sarajevo." Someone did once tell me, "You'll make it there one day"...

It felt quite surreal to be finally entering this historic city. On June 28, 1914, Archduke Franz Ferdinand of Austria and his wife were murdered on the infamous bridge here in Sarajevo; the incident that sparked the beginning of World War I. In 1984, the whole world assembled here for the Olympic Winter Games, one of the most magnificent olymics in history. This city witnessed many important battles when it was part of the Ottoman Empire, during the 16th century and into the 19th. Finally, in 1992 Sarajevo become the longest besieged town in world history.

As soon as we entered the city, we headed towards the mass graveyard where the late President Alija Izzet Begovic is buried along with thousand of soldiers who died as martyrs during the war. It was a sunny day; the grass was green across the hills and flowers were blooming with color. It could have been a very pretty site; for as far as our eyes could take us, we saw lucent white slabs with fine Arabic and Latin script, neatly dug into a carpet of greenery and blossoms of color. Looking more closely at the engravings however, we read names and years; the grave reality was unescapable. The journey between many of the birth and death dates on the white slabs, were so short . Many of these men were younger than myself I realized. We had stood ourselves in a half circle around Begovic's grave and put our hands together to read الفاتحة and a small prayer for the heroes. It was a solemn moment and the air seemed to stand still and heavy upon our shoulders as we recited holy words from the Qur'an and Hadith.

After we packed ourselves back into the van, we were on what seemed like an endless spin. We drove in an upward circle until we finally came to a halt and Abosondos shouted, "Get out everyone!"

The scene was breathtaking. We stood above the whole city and I could now understand how Sarajevo was besieged during the war. Below us in a deep valley lay the city with the Milijaka River running through it; it was surrounded by the towering Dinaric Alps from every corner.

"The Serbs stood with their snipers on these mountains," said our group leader as he pointed with is finger and twirled around himself in a full 360 degree spin. "For three years, people could not get in or out of the city except through the tunnel of hope," he reminded us.

I could have spent the rest of the day just sitting on top that hill, looking beyond the green mountain tops and down into the valley. I don't think I would have felt time pass; Sarajevo is a beautiful city indeed.

Not only is Sarajevo a city of natural beauty, it is also a cradle for several historical eras, cultures and faiths. As we drove along the roads taking us from the new city to the old, we passed by buildings of different styles and architecture. The new city has a clear European imprint. The older buildings are of magnificent Victorian architecture, like the national museum and the school or art and dance. The newer buildings are quite dull however and as I pass them by, I feel that I travelled back in time into Soviet Russia. Although I've never been to Russia, the novels I've read and movies I've watched make me feel that if I ever were to visit this country, I would find many similarities between it and this part of Bosnia that I am seeing now. We passed by a block of tall apartment buildings; their plainness, lack of beauty or elegance and practicality are overwhelmingly sullen.

Sarajevo still bares the scars of the war. More than any other city we've been through so far, bullet and shrapnel holes are everywhere; they still decorate all the buildings. "There it is, Holiday Inn," someone shouted in the car while pointing at a hotel as we drove. On our left was the yellow and white Holiday Inn, which was brutally bombed down and lit to fire during the war. Flash backs from TV news reports, nearly 15 years back, rushed through my head. It was surprising to me that I could still remember seeing this hotel in flames; it was so long ago. Today, Holiday Inn still stands, and the bullet holes and damage is quite visible on its edifice. I wonder if the owners have decided to keep this memory alive for their visitors...

Walking in the old city, was like walking through a story book. The cobble stone on the footpaths, the small Ottoman style buildings, the authentic feel to the city centre was a dreamy experience. We visited a big cathedral and then we went to the a synagogue built by one of the Ottoman sultans to provide for the city's Jewish citizens. They were preparing for a concert later that evening so we could not visit. The mosque was peaceful and pretty inside; it resembled the mosques of Istanbul a lot. We made friends with some Bosnian girls who speak Arabic quite fluently. They helped me buy a traditional pair of harem trousers and a copper coffee set for my mother.

The shops are small and they sell old fashioned clothes. Vendors insist on talking to me in Turkish, assuming that I am one of the many Turkish students studying in Sarajevo. Most of the covered women in the city center are Turks studying at the University of Sarajevo because of the Hijab issue at public universities in Turkey. Turks and Bosnians can enter each others' countries without a visa, one of the reflections of the tight relations between the two countries.

The sun is now setting and the dim lights of the wooden sebil/fountain built by the Ottomans in the Bascarija Square are beginning to become clearer. I am sipping at another cup of Bosnian kafa and I can hear Bosnian music in the background. I am at a crossroads of several civilisations, histories, religions and cultures. The richness of this moment will stay in my heart forever.

8/7/2010

8.20 pm

Bascarija Square

Sarajevo