From Leo Schaya’s Diary, Translated by Fatima Jane Casewit. Part 1 of the travelogue can be read here.
Meknes
11 November 1950
Before noon on 11 November, we left Fez for good and headed to Meknes where we had our midday meal with Sidi Mohamed Faroul. From there, under pouring rain, we went to Salé, arriving in the evening. We penetrated the beautiful grand Arab house of Sidi El-Hadj Abderrahman Buret.[[1]] This elderly scholarly Frenchman, completely resembling a native, received us with the utmost kindness and total Islamic hospitality. A black servant brought one dish after another and we had to once again “attack” a mountain of couscous. If it were only a matter of a mountain of couscous, that would have been fine, but before that we were served a thick rice soup, followed by the usual mutton, and then the couscous, then the salad, then honey cakes dripping with oil and finally the “liberating” green tea. After the evening meal we spoke about the events of recent months. Hadj Abderrahman considered them with the discernment of a man who had a long and loyal existence behind him. Whilst Sidi Ahmed and his wife returned to their hotel in Rabat, I retreated to my room which had been set aside for me in the home of the Hajj. On the Arab bed, I had a very bad night because I could hardly breathe due to swollen tonsils; I couldn’t call for anyone in the house either because I didn’t know who was behind each door. Finally I grabbed my large wooden rosary, put it around my neck and asked God to cure me.
Mazagan
12 November
The next day – 12 November – I felt a bit better. Thank God. After breakfast, Sidi Ahmed came to fetch us with his car to drive us to Mazagan (Al-Jadida) to Sheikh Muhammed ben Ali at-Tadili.[[2]] To my great surprise, Sidi Mohammed Faroul had already told me that the old Sheikh was expecting me. I was surprised at this, because during my journey I had never thought of visiting him. The words of the Sheikh could, however, be attributed to my Moroccan friends, who, when they learnt of my arrival, spoke about me to the Sheikh and asked him if he would receive me. However it was, I was extremely happy to be thus received without any more formalities by one of the greatest sages of Morocco.
In addition, Hajj Abderrahman had himself suggested that he accompany me to the Sheikh and serve as interpreter. In this way, I felt as though I was transported to Mazagan as if by the wind, without any personal effort. We went through Casablanca, penetrating more deeply and deeply into Morocco. A vast reddish plain; here and there a camel and a young donkey pulling a plough.
Finally Mazagan emerged: a bouquet of luminous white houses on a peninsula extending almost into the wild, blue, foamy sea. Since Fez, this was the most beautiful scenery that I had seen in Morocco. My heart pounding, I stood in front of the Sheikh’s house, who by this time was so ill that his family feared he would die any day. We were invited to go in. Hajj Abderrahman preceded me and greeted the venerable Sheikh who was sitting between two cushions. Today he seemed better, thank God! Blind, paralyzed and leaning forward, he was sitting there like Job. Overwhelmed, we knelt down in front of him and kissed his hand.
With some difficulty speaking, he said that it was the Prophets and the Saints and those who resemble them whom God tested the most.
With some difficulty speaking, he said that it was the Prophets and the Saints and those who resemble them whom God tested the most. This first statement was for me an answer to all the questions I could answer in my state of deep sadness. Did I not come here with a completely broken soul that was blind and paralyzed? At that moment, it was as if my soul had taken on a physical form, as if I were face to face with my own inner state. In fact, at that moment the extraordinary experience that had invaded me the first time I had met Sheikh ‘Isa[[3]] returned to me. At that time, an inner voice had said to me: “This man is your own inner face!” And today, seeing the Sheikh Tadili, my soul cried out to me once again: “I am you! You are me!” It was as if there were not the slightest inner barrier between the elderly Sheikh and myself. My soul was, so to speak, overflowing into him, whereas his spiritual radiance irresistibly invaded me. His spirit was like an immeasurable crystal in which a luminous flow ceaselessly rises.
No sooner had the Sheikh pronounced the first sentence, than the second one followed. The Sheikh repeated the tradition according to which the Prophet – peace and blessings be upon him – said one day to his companions:
“Oh, how I would love to see you all, my brothers!” His companions then answered:
“But we are in front of you!” the Prophet added:
“I’m not thinking of you, but of my brothers at the end of time who will convert to Islam through what they see in black and white (meaning the simple reading of books). For them, I have more affection for them than for you, and each of their actions weighs seventy times more than your good deeds; because they have accepted the Tradition without having seen me. They are those whom I do not see and whom I would love to see. Thrones made of pearls on which they will sit the day of the great gathering are prepared for them and their faces will be radiant with light, and they are neither prophets nor martyrs.
As for the prophets and martyrs, they will jealously ask:
“Who are those sitting peacefully, full of peace and light, and amongst them those who rejoice with great fear as they must account for their actions?”
Then the divine response will be heard: “Those are the lovers of God at the end of time.”
And the Sheikh Tadili answered: “It is you who have accepted Islam and love one another in love for God; the Prophet would so much have loved to see you; and he has a special affection for you.”
Overwhelmed, we listened to the great striking words of the elderly blind man, who also meant that he himself would have liked to have seen us.
Then, despite his difficulties in speaking, he continued and said that human kind constitute a quarter of the quantity of jinn, the jinn a quarter of the quantity of devils, and the number of human beings of jinn and devils together, a quarter of the quantity of the angels in the lowest heaven – of those who descend to earth, and of those a tenth of the quantity of the angels in the second heaven, and thus so up to the angels in the seventh heaven; and all the angels and the rest of living beings take place in one of the 70,000 parts of the divine throne.
It was thus that, in a few instants, the Sheikh made all of creation disappear before our eyes.
Then he spoke of the end of time, when the Messiah would descend from heaven and reign forty years according to the law of Mohamed.
“…then the trumpets will sound and the world will be submerged for 40 years, burying everything that is earthly. After these 40 years the bodies of the deceased will grow out of the water like mushrooms without yet having life. These bodies will resemble what the deceased possessed during their past lifetimes, and then their souls will return like bees into their bodies and an angel will come and say to them: “Gather unto the meeting place!” All the human beings will then go to the meeting place to account for their actions. But the prophets, martyrs, saints and lovers of God in the last days will gather without having to account for their actions.”
The Sheikh himself gave me the following rosary, remarking that if I recite it I would receive three million graces:
Glory be to Thee Oh God, by thy Glorification! I bear witness that there is no divinity but Thee! I have committed evil and my soul is at risk; forgive me because no one except Thou can forgive sins! Oh Thou Who forgives all sins! Oh Thou Who forgives all sins! Oh Thou Who forgives all sins!
Oh God! Bless our Lord Mohammed, Thy slave, Thy Prophet and Thy Messenger, the unlettered Prophet, and his family and his companions, greet them by the power of the Lordship of Thy Nature, now and evermore.
There is no god but God, His Unity. He has no associates; His is the Kingdom and the praise, He gives life and death and He is the Living. He who never dies. His High Hand is over all becoming and He is Powerful over everything.
(Each formula is to be recited 100 times.)
The Sheikh added that he had the idhan, the permission, to transmit this rosary. Later Hadj Abderrahman told me that the Sheikh had received this rosary from Al-Khidr, the mysterious master of all the masters.
Since I already had a prescribed rosary to recite, and thus could only occasionally recite the one I had just received, I asked the Sheikh to give me another spiritual means, something I could use all the time, a means of combatting the ego. At this, the Sheikh called his grandson again who had just transcribed the rosary for me, and gave him a new text. It is the following prayer coming from the Prophet which I could recite after every prescribed prayer with good intention so that it could put me into a corresponding psychological state:
O Allah, I ask You for a mercy through which You guide my heart, bring together my affairs, remove my trials, protect me in my absence, elevate me in my vision, purify my deeds, brighten my face, and protect me from every evil.
O Allah, I ask You for sincere faith, a heart full of reverence, and mercy through which I may attain the honor of Your generosity in this world and the Hereafter.
O Allah, I turn to You in my need, even if my opinion is weak, my actions are lacking, my lifetime is limited, and my means are little, I am in need of You.
O Most Generous Beloved.
Then the Sheikh Tadili raised his hands and implored blessings from Heaven upon us. For me, he asked for the state of Arif billah and for Sidi Ahmad he also asked for knowledge and for his wife, opening of the heart and for grace. Then he asked for news of Sheikh ‘Isa and wished him a blessed marriage.[[4]] He also asked for news of Sidi Ibrahim[[5]], and said that he loved him dearly because he was a very zealous disciple with whom at that time he had debated the 360 barazikh[[6]] of creation. Then we performed the afternoon prayer with the Sheikh, who was sitting and without movement, following Hadj Abderrahman. Later, we drank green tea and had a meal of eggs in the company of his son and grandson. As for the Sheikh, he neither ate nor drank anything.
“When the friend comes, we cry for joy and when he leaves, we cry with sadness.”
After the meal, we told him that unfortunately we had to leave. Then the Sheikh started to cry and said: “When the friend comes, we cry for joy and when he leaves, we cry with sadness.” We knelt before him and kissed his hand once more. I couldn’t resist pressing my mouth to his hand several more times and it was terribly difficult for me to separate myself from this great and marvelous man, who in an instant had bound me to him forever. It was as if in leaving I had left myself and I couldn’t believe that the door was already behind me. It was as if the Sheikh had detained me from within. In fact, I suddenly heard a voice call out, “Sidi Abdel Quddus!”[[7]] Joyfully surprised, I hastily returned to the room with Hajj Abderrahman and knelt once again before the Sheikh and kissed his hand again. But the Sheikh took my right hand into his and said: “May you reach your goal!” It was with these words that I took leave of him for good.
After the visit to the Sheikh Tadili I felt full of his own spiritual nature. During the return trip back to Salé, I was still humbled by the meeting with this spiritual giant, resembling a prophet of the Old Testament. It seemed as if he lived in another world, a better world, a world which radiated with wisdom, strength and goodness. For a long time I could feel the old man’s warm, gentle hand resting in mine and en route I could still hear his broken voice which, like a miracle, poured blessings upon me. Already when I had thanked him for the rosary and the prayer emanating from the Prophet, he said to me: “I would like to give you all that you desire from me, and if I had a mountain of gold I would give it to you.” And he blessed me with a blessing that incommensurably surpassed a mountain of gold, and was the most magnificent of gifts that I could be given, that is, the wish of a saint that I reach my spiritual objective. That evening in Salé, I asked God to make me worthy of this great blessing and that I would be able to do everything necessary to reach the supreme Goal – He Himself.
Salé
13 November
I put into writing everything that Sheikh Tadili had said and Hajj Abderrahman verified the accuracy. He spoke to me of Sheikh Tadili’s youth. He had been a merchant in the souk of Fez, without being interested in tasawwuf. One day he saw some fuqara walk by his shop and was so taken aback by their radiant expression that he abandoned everything, turned his shop over to his neighbor, and without worrying about his wife and family, he followed “the poor in spirit.” He went with them to the Rif where they finally took him to their master. The latter lived in the mountains surrounded by 400 disciples. The master received Sidi Tadili into his order and directed him to retreat into a cave in the Rif.
The Sheikh Tadili gave himself up with extreme zeal and fervor to the spiritual exercises that had been prescribed for him. When this time had passed, his master told him that he could be released and that he could return to his home again. In fact, during this short period, Sheikh Tadili had attained Ma’arifa,[[8]] in the sense that, after reading the most arduous Sufi texts, he knew them by heart as it were, and if one recited to him a doctrinal sentence of Muhiddin ibn al-Arabi, he could recite the entire page containing this sentence.
But this faculty of knowledge did not rest solely on a phenomenal memory, but signified a real vision into the purely spiritual world. That is why Moroccans say that the Sheikh Tadili became blind from having looked too much at the Light. After these two years of study, he returned to his family. By this time he was so transformed that he couldn’t remember how many children he had. His shop in the meantime had been taken over by his neighbor, and the Sheikh Tadili had to survive with his own feeble resources. His spiritual mission was to teach tassawuf and he carried this out daily from sunrise until late into the night. Some fuqara told me that when they visited him, he would begin right after the morning prayer and the rosary explaining the texts of Muhiddin (Ibn Arabi) and discussed them until late in the night. He was not only a spiritual giant, but also a physical giant of approximately two meters in height with a powerful and large stature. The spiritual exercises that he imposed upon his disciples were consequently almost impracticable for a Westerner. As mentioned above, Al-Khidr had appeared to him and had instructed him. The Sheikh Tadili wrote three Sufi works and a collection of poems which are at present being prepared for publication. In every way he seemed to me to be what the Indians call a jnanin.[[9]] His manner of speaking was dry and of crystalline rigor and extreme precision. The first impression one had of him was that of a sage, then one of a spiritual man of will, for whom the entire world is but a breath, that is, that he was completely detached from it. But apart from this, one instantly and insensibly felt in his proximity, wrapped into great, unlimited goodness and the heart was seized with a burning love for him. His goodness was that of the Spirit; that is why it lights up like lightning in the inner depths of the soul. Every time I think of the Sheikh Tadili, it is as if he were really standing in front of me, as if he really lived within me, as if our encounter were permanent.
In the afternoon, Sidi Ahmed, his wife and I accompanied Hadj Abderrahman to the Ecole Supérieure de Rabat, the college located near the Sultan’s palace where the Hadj had to give his Arabic lessons.
That evening we were once again invited to the home of Hadj Abderrahman, and when we arrived, two other guests were already waiting for us: the Derqawi muqaddem Sidi Abd Al-Kabir Al-Djaidi and the old faqir Sidi AL-Hajj Mohammed Bouchara; both of them greeted us cordially. We prayed with them, and then once again sat down to a sumptuous meal.
“Your outer life and its tiring work and difficulties are your jihad and your dhikr.”
The two fuqara remembered Sidi Ibrahim very well. He had visited them in Salé sixteen years ago. I spoke to them about the difficulties in practicing Islam and tasawwuf in the West, of the worldly environment, and the exhausting daily work routines. Hajj Bouchara responded: “You cannot separate your outer destiny and the spiritual inner life because your destiny is given to you by God. Your outer life and its tiring work and difficulties are your jihad and your dhikr; if you invoke correctly during your free time you will receive spiritual graces for your daily efforts as you would have received them with your invocation which you prefer to your outside activities.”
Marrakesh
14 November
The next day at 6:30 in the morning, I got up and went into the great mosque of Salé wearing Arab clothes where we prayed the morning prayer with a line of believers. After the prayer I leaned towards my unknown neighbor, a veritable elderly man, who kissed my hand and disappeared without me being able to prevent him from doing so.
Then we went to walk in the dawn of the city which was just waking up; first to the cemetery near the sea, then the Derqaouia zaouia where we didn’t meet any faqir. Then we returned home where the black servant prepared coffee for us. After reciting the rosary and drinking coffee, we spoke of tasawwuf. Hajj Abderrahman offered us three volumes of a French translation of Al-Bukhari. Around 10 o’clock Sidi Ahmed and his wife arrived from the hotel to fetch me; we had a long ride ahead of us to Marrakesh that day. We bade farewell to Hajj Abderrahman; it hurt us to leave such a friendly host.
Then, between the white walls, under a dark blue sky and with splendid weather we crossed Salé and Rabat on the main road which first of all took us through Casablanca. We had barely left Casablanca, this large chaotic city swarming with all races and all peoples, when the vast deserted stretch of reddish earth already began; we had already experienced it during our trip to Mazagan. This seemingly unlimited stretch, interrupted by a few hills, is labored by peasants in many places, all the way to Marrakesh. We didn’t see many people; here and there a shepherd, once in a while a peasant behind his plough pulled by a camel. The sun became hotter and hotter: we felt more clearly than ever that we were in Africa. In the distance, blue hills emerged and behind them the royal white Atlas chain of mountains; we knew we were approaching Marrakesh; and once we had crossed the hills, like a vast unique lake, the immense thick forest of palm trees stretched in front of us into which Marrakesh seemed to be drowning. Only the high tower of the Koutubiya mosque alerted us first of the presence of an agglomeration, and we still had to go a great distance to notice other buildings.
Finally we penetrated the garden of Allah – Marrakesh, constructed with red earth fortified like a mediaeval town and surrounded by numerous towers. It was an intoxication of colors and shapes out of the 1001 Nights stories. The continued vast forests of palm trees and olive trees continued, then again the red houses, then the powerful Koutubiya and the main market[[10]] where great varieties of animation and movement reigned: a black story teller in a black jellaba on his camel, surrounded by a large curious crowd, savage dancers accompanied by flutes, cord instruments and tambourines; snake charmers, comedians, fire eaters, and so on. Behind the souk invaded by the crowd and, from our imposing hotel Mamounia, a magnificent view of the Atlas. To my great joy, a letter from the Sheikh awaited me there.
15 November
In the morning of 15 November, we went into the souk which was much calmer, larger and more pleasant than that of Fez. The inhabitants of Marrakesh are also friendlier, kinder, and cheerier than the Fezzis although, on the other hand, they are more argumentative and bellicose than the latter. This afternoon we travelled through the vast gardens of Al-Glaoui, until we arrived in front of a large house. The guardian, Sidi Abul-Abbas was an acquaintance of Sidi Ahmed. He greeted us cordially and showed us the immense water reservoir of Marrakesh, which is hidden and guarded here in the gardens of the Glaoui. We climbed up onto the roof of the house. Below us the unlimited garden of trees of Marrakesh stretched in all directions of space. To the north the red city shown with the Koutubiya, to the south, the Atlas covered with snow stretched towards the sky. Behind the house vast, calm water basins stretched between palm and olive trees; and above us a celestial vault of sapphire where the radiating golden sun shown in all its force. Everything was as if plunged into a deep eternal, primordial, eternal peace. Sidi Abul ’Abbas brought us a carpet and tea on the roof, and we sat there silently drinking with him, as if it had always been that way, as if we had been there a long time. Time seemed to have stopped; I could do nothing else but invoke God inwardly. This place was like the center of the world; a great and luminous benediction filled me and stayed with me for several days.
From there, we went with Sidi Abu l-Abbas to the Sa’adien tombs near the Mansur mosque. These are located in admirable building which are similar to the beauty of Al-Hambra; in fact they are built in the same style as the palace of Grenada.
We arrived at the tomb of the saint Lalla Mas’uda, the mother of the great conqueror and king Ahmed Al-Mansur who in the sixteenth century penetrated as far as Sudan which he converted to Islam. The women of Marrakesh pray here and on Friday address their requests to the saint, all the while making knots in the extremities of long narrow leaves of the sacred tree which is in front of the tomb. I prayed for my wife and took with me a leaf to give her for her personal prayer. Then we crossed the town with Sidi Abu Al-Abbas looking for a Darqaoui Muqaddem who had, however, left on travels. Arriving at the hotel, I received my first word from Saida Aziza[[11]] and so this paradisiacal day had found its crown.
16 November
I am travelling alone in an open carriage through the vast forests of the palm groves of Marrakesh and learning by heart the prayers given to me by Sheikh Tadili.
Again, this paradisiac peace; this air full of Islamic sweetness. From time to time peasants with their women and children fit perfectly into this beautiful dreamlike scenery. In the afternoon we went once again into the souk, where there was still the same variegated activity.
On 17 November I was woken early in the morning by cannon blasts. Today was the feast of the Sultan’s ascension to the throne.[[12]]
We went into the souk. All the shops were closed and decorated with the most beautiful Berber carpets of Marrakesh, in red, ochre, black and white. The ground was also completely covered with carpets because the Pasha of Marrakesh was to make his solemn tour around the city. We took off our shoes as the people of Marrakesh were doing who carried their belleras[[13]] in their hands. The great square of the market place was filled with story tellers, preachers, tambourine players and singing fuqara, doctors with their “murder instruments”, dentists with all the teeth they had pulled on display in front of them, children, nursing women and on and on. One couldn’t imagine a more joyous, colorful activity. In the evening there was sword dancing; some twenty tambourine players beating and around them men sang and breathed heavily. In every neighborhood of the souk, a brotherhood continually recited prayers on the Prophet or the Qur’an. Once in a while the melodies were interrupted by a slurp of green tea.
19 November
I received a letter from Sidi Ismael[[14]] saying that he would arrive that very day in Fez. I put in a telephone call to him and we agreed to take the boat together in Casablanca. I gave up my original intention to go on to Mustaghanem with Sidi Ahmed, given that I was feeling too tired for such a long journey. I gave Sidi Ahmed the letter of the Sheikh addressed to Sheikh ‘Adda and left it in his hands to offer the Sheikh the beautiful gift we had bought for him in Fez. My poor state of health was one reason for not going to Mustaghanem; another reason being, and perhaps the most important one, was the certitude of having received in Mazagan all that would echo with me during my pilgrimage to Morocco.
Today was the last evening in Marrakesh. With Sidi Ahmed I visited Sidi Moulay Hasham[[15]], a black sherif who is an official guide of the Medersa Ben Yousef. Approaching his home, we found ourselves in a narrow, dark street. Above us, the moon shone and the large stars of the Moroccan sky were sparkling.
Everything was calm; through a wall pierced the voice of a man reciting the Shahada. Then we entered the poor little house of Moulay Hashem. We sat in the half lit shadow of an almost empty room; on a small wobbly table the end of a candle was burning; in one corner a small child was sleeping; in an adjoining room another was crying whilst the black sherif prepared the tea with great nobility. He was one of the most sensitive, refined and most cordial men I had met in Morocco. We spoke about Islam, and he finally told us that he knew all of the Qur’an by heart. He had the title of Al-Qur’an and could act as Imam in any mosque. When we told him who we were, he was overjoyed and confided in us that he prays much during the night. The benediction that had invaded me in the Glaoui gardens was still shining in my heart and filling all of my body. I was sitting in the middle of poverty as if it were the chateau of a king. It was thus that our final night in Morocco ended.
Casablanca
20 November
We returned to Casablanca where Sidi Ismail was waiting. I was sitting in Sidi Ahmed’s car and felt enveloped in a spiritual intensity which became so strong that I could hardly pronounce a word to my friend. Then I boarded the Azrou with Sidi Ismail which was to take us to Marseille in two days and three nights.
After a rather “lurching” night we got up in our little cabin where, thank God, we were alone.
The Return to France
21 November
Today on 21 November we passed Tangier, Algeciras and Gibraltar. Long live Africa! A circle is closed. We left the Atlantic Ocean and approached the softest waves of the Mediterranean in the direction of the Baleares. At our table a Moroccan officer was seated, Sidi Mohammed El-‘Arbi. He greeted us and we began a conversation. Finally we spoke of Islam. The Sultan’s officer asked me what I thought of Morocco’s development; I sensed how proud he was of the new modern institutions that the French had brought to the country. To his great surprise, I blamed all modern innovations and praised all that was left in place of the strict Tradition in Morocco. The more I explained the meaning of this, the more the Moroccan’s attitude changed, and finally he enthusiastically spoke to me of Islam, continually citing verses of the Qur’an, and told me one Sufi story after another. He stayed with us until Marseille, and asked for my advice about his children’s education. He had to go to Mayence (France) for two years as captain of the Franco-Moroccan army and wanted to visit me in his time off. On the train from Marseille to Dijon, we spoke further about the Tradition, although it was finally in Dijon that we had really left Africa behind us.
After the capital of Bourgogne, Nancy emerged where we were welcomed with open arms by Saida Aziza and the group of friends. I had to recount my adventures almost until the early morning; and once again I plunged myself into the Islamic world, in the land of Allah, which rests profoundly in my Heart.
The translator of this piece, Jane Fatima Casewit, is a writer and educator in Morocco with a background in linguistics. She has worked on rural girls' education & is currently part of the USAID/Morocco education team.
[[1]]: A French Muslim, disciple of Schuon and Valsan long settled in Rabat where he taught French. He became the disciple of Sidi Muhammad at-Tadili whose collection he intended to publish in the collection “Sufism” which he directed with Jean Herbert. A friend of T. Burckhardt he collaborated with the latter to translate the Hikam of Ibn Atallah al-Iskandari (Paris 1989)
[[2]]: On this master of the Derqawi way, see J. Herbert, “Le Sheikh at-Taddili” – in Le Soufism: voie d’unite, Paris, 1997
[[3]]: Frithjof Schuon
[[4]]: F. Schuon who had recently married in May 1949
[[5]]: Titus Burckhardt
[[6]]: Burckhardt provides a teaching on this subject in the name of the Sheikh in his article “Concerning the Barzakh” Etudes Traditionelles (1935)
[[7]]: Leo Schaya’s initiatic name
[[8]]: Spiritual knowledge
[[9]]: A Sanskrit word designating an individual who seeks to reach God by jnana, or spiritual science
[[10]]: Jem’a al-Fana
[[11]]: Leo Schaya’s first wife
[[12]]: Mohammed V who took the throne in 1927
[[13]]: Slippers – balgha, plural balaghi in dialectical Arabic
[[14]]: A modest Alawite sherif (1909-1980) a serious adept of the Jazouliya Shadhiliya order, and reader/reciter of Dalail al Khayrat/ “Indexes of Prophetic graces” by Ben Sliman Al-Jazouli (died 1465) whose mausoleum is located in the neighborhood bearing his name and who is one of the seven saints of Marrakesh. The small, poor house referred to is located in the Sidi Ben Sliman Al-Jazouli neighborhood
[[15]]: Not identified
