It is purely a home industry; there is nothing of the factory or workshop about it as yet. The loom, large as it is, with its heavy beams and many cords, takes a good deal of space in the characteristic narrow room, yet it is set up in the guest-chamber opening out of the quiet court. It is placed as near the door as may be, for the sake of light and air, the windows being small and of little account. It casts a dark shadow over the divan in the alcove, which in Kairouan is often of wood elaborately turned or carved, gilt and painted in brilliant colours. The mother sits and works steadily; the babies play with her skeins and balls of wool; the husband dozes or meditates; other women come and chat, and prepare vegetables, though the cooking is done in another room on the other side of the courtyard. All the time the threads are being deftly tied and knotted, clipped with big scissors, and beaten down at intervals with much energy and a heavy iron comb, shaped like a hoe. The carpet grows visibly in a rather mysterious way, as often there is no pattern to be seen, the worker apparently evolving the design out of her inner consciousness, which accounts for the delightful irregularity and vagaries of hand-made rugs.
The maze of the narrow streets is more puzzling than usual; there is a mean and squalid look, a hopeless sameness about them that makes threading one’s way difficult at first. The great Mosque has to be sought carefully, although from outside the town it is the most conspicuous object. Massive walls, huge buttresses, and towers with fluted domes, protect the inner court, which is entered by gateways under the towers. Vastness and simplicity as befits its name are the keynotes of the building, the slight efforts at decoration lost in the blinding whiteness that is almost unbearable in those hours when the noonday sun beats down upon the city.
Sidi Okba is said to have traced out the foundation of the mosque himself, which he called the Mosque of Olives, and on this ground, already held sacred, he caused prayers to be celebrated before the work of building was even begun. The great difficulty was to find the true position of the Mihrab, the niche which indicates the direction of Mecca. In all other mosques the Imaum who leads the prayers turns slightly to one side or the other of this Mecca niche, to show that the direction is not absolutely correct. Here, however, he stands perfectly straight, because the Mihrab was miraculously revealed to Sidi Okba in this wise. Wearied out by long prayer he fell asleep, and in his dreams an angel appeared unto him saying: “Thou favourite of the Ruler of the Universe, thy prayer is heard. Behold, when day dawns, thou shalt take thy standard and bear it upon thy shoulder, then shalt thou hear a voice crying before thee Allah Akbar (‘God is great’). No ear but thine will hear this voice. Follow, and where the cry ceases, in that place shalt thou build the Mihrab.”
MOSQUE OF SIDI OKBA, KAIROUAN
At daybreak Sidi Okba heard a cry, and when he demanded of his companions whether they heard ought, they answered, “Nothing.” “It is the command of God, the All Powerful,” he said, and raising the standard he followed the voice till the cry ceased. Immediately he planted the standard, saying, “Here is our Mihrab.”
The minaret stands at one end of an immense courtyard, partly paved with Roman tombstones and surrounded by a double cloister. Underneath the court is a vast cistern to hold a reserve of water. At the opposite end, under a fine colonnade, in which Roman columns are found as usual, are the nine great doors of the mosque. These doors are of good old Moorish design, worn with age and softened in colour, but still truly magnificent.
The sudden change from the glare outside to the darkness within transforms the mosque into a forest, mysterious and vast, glowing with rich colour beneath the gloom. And indeed it is a forest of stone, for there are seventeen naves and who knows how many columns. The columns are antique and of fine marbles, onyx, and porphyry, rubbed by the shoulders of the Faithful till they shine. The capitals are also spoils from other buildings, Roman or Byzantine, and one there is of a design so unusual as to be considered unique in its treatment of plant form. Matting is swathed round the base of the columns and covers the floor with its cool cleanliness. The great horse-shoe arches are whitewashed, the roof is rather plain, with heavy beams like a network between the columns. In the central nave hang some wonderful old lustres, with myriads of tiny lamps.
Before the Mihrab is the one incongruous and tawdry decoration—a crystal chandelier, but the darkness happily hides it, and prevents its interfering with the general impression of stately simplicity.
The Mihrab, with its inlaid work and tiles, its coloured marbles, graceful columns, and finely cut capitals, is worthy of the shrine, and shares the admiration of the pilgrims with an exquisitely carved Mimbar, or pulpit, polished and worn with age, which is said to be made of wood brought from Baghdad on purpose.