Is Harar 'the Forgotten City of Islam?'
Is Harar 'the Forgotten City of Islam?'
Will Connors
Middle East Times
January 25, 2007
DISHY HARAR: Harar, a city that is one of Ethiopia's Islamic jewels shows the encroaching signs of modern-day living. So far, Ethiopia's predominantly Christian government has done little to promote renewal and tourism here, chiefly for religious reasons.
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HARAR, Ethiopia -- Atop a narrow dirt road carved from sandstone, Ahmed Zekaria looks down, past cactus and fields of corn, toward the walled city of Harar. "This is my city," he says. "People need to know about this city."
As an historian and professor, but more importantly as a Harar native, Zekaria knows the significance of this place as well as any Ethiopian or Muslim scholar, and he is on a mission to call attention to the city, which to him is "the forgotten city of Islam."
Recently, Ahmed's job was made easier. In 2003 the city, 500 kilometers (about 311 miles) east of Ethiopia's capital Addis Ababa, was given a World City of Peace award by the United Nations, in honor of Harar's unique ability to accommodate many ethnicities in a small space without conflict, in a region often beset by tribal and border clashes.
Seventy-year-old Amina Adulahi, the great-great-granddaughter of the Harari king Abadir Shakur, believes the award to be well-deserved. "Harar is a city of love," the still-spry Amina says, bustling through the city's lovely environs, followed by her four beautiful daughters. "Regardless of religion or ethnicity, you can come to Harar and drink and eat in peace."
Shakib Djidawi, curator of the city's Rimbaud Museum, says: "Harar is like the Noah's Ark of culture. We have dark skinned people; light skinned people. Every Harari is multilingual, and they are very peaceful. Harar should be an example for the world - so many cultures coexist [here] peacefully."
More significant than the City of Peace award was the decision by the United Nations Education, Scientific, and Cultural Organization (UNESCO) to include Harar on its list of World Heritage sites this year, the seventh such distinction for Ethiopia. With this recognition, Harar's international profile should have risen dramatically. So far, though, it hasn't.
Special parliamentary representative to the city of Harar, Abdusamad Idris, says the city's oversight of the city has been largely due to the Ethiopian government's ill-will toward the city's Muslim community and the administration's efforts to suppress Harar's religious history.
"There is no promotion [carried out] by the central government for Harar; only for [Ethiopia's] northern cities," Abdusamad says, in reference to the tourism push for several historic Christian sites elsewhere in Ethiopia. He adds the government has "an agenda" to ignore Harar "because it's a Muslim city; they want it to be forgotten." What is crucial in letting the world know about this Ethiopian jewel therefore was indeed "promotion - from all sides. If the central government would only believe in it, believe that we are also Ethiopians, things could change."
According to Abdusamad, little is done to encourage Muslims from abroad to visit Harar because when "Muslims come to Ethiopia, the government puts them under suspicion. Questions from officials such as 'why are you going to Harar?' and 'why not travel to other parts of the country?' are common," says Abdusamad, concluding "it is not comfortable for Muslims to come here." He adds that "even with aid money, it is difficult for Arab countries," because "the [Ethiopian] government does not want to be associated with those countries."
Ethiopia is considered by most a Christian nation, chiefly because the ruling government is Christian, but according to many others, and to several studies, it has, in fact, a predominantly Muslim population. Some put the proportion of Muslims in Ethiopia as high as 65 percent. And the city of Harar represents a crucial part of Ethiopia's long history with Islam; its current status indicative of the role religion plays in government policies.
World officials all agree that Harar is an important Muslim city both because of its defiant and steadfastly religious pugnacity in the face of a growing Christian sovereignty hundreds of years ago, but also because it houses some 82 mosques and innumerable tombs within such a small area. Unfortunately, few agree on just how significant a role the city's Muslim roots should play in the country's self-promotion.
Harar has been cited by some as Islam's fourth holiest city, but the origins of this postulation are dubious, and invariably bring controversial reactions.
Ethiopia's supreme Islamic Council vice-president Sheikh Elias Redwan, who is also one of the country's leading voices of Islam, categorically denied this number. "We are very proud that Harar was named a UNESCO site," he said recently, "but the fourth holiest city? No."
However, Zekaria not only believes in such a ranking, but argues also that Harar should be listed even higher. He notes that before Islam traveled to Medina, the religion's second holiest city, it arrived in Ethiopia, where the country provided refuge for Muslims fleeing persecution in the time of the Prophet Mohammed.
"As far as I am concerned Ethiopia is the second home of Islam," he says. "Before it reached the [officially recognized] second city, Islam was here. So it ... may [even] be the first-and-a-half [most holy city], but not the second."
In light of Redwan's and the Islamic Council's denial of this claim, Ahmed offers a firm, measured response. "Forget them. They are not historians," he says, adding "they don't know what they are talking about." But he is swift to reassure that "we are not trying to get into religious provocations; we are simply trying to promote Harar."
Despite the efforts of those like Zekaria and Abdusamad to do so, despite UNESCO's distinctions, and despite a World Bank project to promote local handicrafts (which one official called 'sluggish' due to 'typical World Bank bureaucracy'), Harar has a long way to go to position itself as a world-class tourist destination.
In the past, local custom dictated that every homeowner cleaned the area surrounding their door, but few do so today. The once-spotless narrow streets are now lined with plastic bags and garbage, and the trash that does get collected is dumped directly outside the city walls, often into streams and riverbeds.
Satellite dishes protrude from almost every building within the walled city. Zekaria says that "the genie" of modern excess is "out of the bottle," and cultural preservationists are having a hard time keeping up. "The speed of change is beyond our comprehension," he says.
An apt illustration of the current state of Harar is the boyhood home of former emperor Haile Selassie. Selassie's father, Ras Mekonnen, was appointed governor of Harar after Prince Menelik (later the emperor) claimed the city in 1887. Unprotected and ignored, the residence is now in grave disrepair. According to locals, 20 families of squatters are currently living within its walls.
A Muslim holiday unique to Harar, however, shows that "the Living City" is by no means fading quietly away.
Showal Eid, the culmination of an extra six days of fasting in addition to Ramadan's original 30, is a buoyant affair that brings Hararis from all over Ethiopia and the world to the city's ancient walls.
Traditionally, the day was a celebration of breaking fast but also a time for young men and women to find their spouses. Singles members of both genders dressed in colorful, resplendent attire to attract attention, and marriage unions were widely organized.
Things are slightly less traditional today, but according to many who were out on the streets during this year's Showal Eid, the spouse-hunting element is alive and well.
Attendees noted that a significant number of well-dressed young people crowded the narrow roads, looking for - if not husbands and wives - at least boyfriends and girlfriends. Questioned about the holiday, one young man in a dark blue business-suit exclaimed, "I can't talk to you - I'm looking for my future wife - she could be out there right now!" The half-dozen young men at his side laughed and nodded in agreement. They, too, peered into the heart of the festivities in search of a beautiful Harari girl.
An older woman named Meftuha, holding her own in the dance-area of a large tent concurred that Showal Eid is a great holiday worthy of attention. "All [single] women who were previously just staying ... home alone come out to dance and to find a husband," she said. And she wasn't above looking a male visitor squarely in the eye, urging him to go out and do exactly the same. "This is the perfect chance for you to find a wife [so] get out there and dance ... now's your chance!"
Will Connors
Middle East Times
January 25, 2007
DISHY HARAR: Harar, a city that is one of Ethiopia's Islamic jewels shows the encroaching signs of modern-day living. So far, Ethiopia's predominantly Christian government has done little to promote renewal and tourism here, chiefly for religious reasons.
( )
HARAR, Ethiopia -- Atop a narrow dirt road carved from sandstone, Ahmed Zekaria looks down, past cactus and fields of corn, toward the walled city of Harar. "This is my city," he says. "People need to know about this city."
As an historian and professor, but more importantly as a Harar native, Zekaria knows the significance of this place as well as any Ethiopian or Muslim scholar, and he is on a mission to call attention to the city, which to him is "the forgotten city of Islam."
Recently, Ahmed's job was made easier. In 2003 the city, 500 kilometers (about 311 miles) east of Ethiopia's capital Addis Ababa, was given a World City of Peace award by the United Nations, in honor of Harar's unique ability to accommodate many ethnicities in a small space without conflict, in a region often beset by tribal and border clashes.
Seventy-year-old Amina Adulahi, the great-great-granddaughter of the Harari king Abadir Shakur, believes the award to be well-deserved. "Harar is a city of love," the still-spry Amina says, bustling through the city's lovely environs, followed by her four beautiful daughters. "Regardless of religion or ethnicity, you can come to Harar and drink and eat in peace."
Shakib Djidawi, curator of the city's Rimbaud Museum, says: "Harar is like the Noah's Ark of culture. We have dark skinned people; light skinned people. Every Harari is multilingual, and they are very peaceful. Harar should be an example for the world - so many cultures coexist [here] peacefully."
More significant than the City of Peace award was the decision by the United Nations Education, Scientific, and Cultural Organization (UNESCO) to include Harar on its list of World Heritage sites this year, the seventh such distinction for Ethiopia. With this recognition, Harar's international profile should have risen dramatically. So far, though, it hasn't.
Special parliamentary representative to the city of Harar, Abdusamad Idris, says the city's oversight of the city has been largely due to the Ethiopian government's ill-will toward the city's Muslim community and the administration's efforts to suppress Harar's religious history.
"There is no promotion [carried out] by the central government for Harar; only for [Ethiopia's] northern cities," Abdusamad says, in reference to the tourism push for several historic Christian sites elsewhere in Ethiopia. He adds the government has "an agenda" to ignore Harar "because it's a Muslim city; they want it to be forgotten." What is crucial in letting the world know about this Ethiopian jewel therefore was indeed "promotion - from all sides. If the central government would only believe in it, believe that we are also Ethiopians, things could change."
According to Abdusamad, little is done to encourage Muslims from abroad to visit Harar because when "Muslims come to Ethiopia, the government puts them under suspicion. Questions from officials such as 'why are you going to Harar?' and 'why not travel to other parts of the country?' are common," says Abdusamad, concluding "it is not comfortable for Muslims to come here." He adds that "even with aid money, it is difficult for Arab countries," because "the [Ethiopian] government does not want to be associated with those countries."
Ethiopia is considered by most a Christian nation, chiefly because the ruling government is Christian, but according to many others, and to several studies, it has, in fact, a predominantly Muslim population. Some put the proportion of Muslims in Ethiopia as high as 65 percent. And the city of Harar represents a crucial part of Ethiopia's long history with Islam; its current status indicative of the role religion plays in government policies.
World officials all agree that Harar is an important Muslim city both because of its defiant and steadfastly religious pugnacity in the face of a growing Christian sovereignty hundreds of years ago, but also because it houses some 82 mosques and innumerable tombs within such a small area. Unfortunately, few agree on just how significant a role the city's Muslim roots should play in the country's self-promotion.
Harar has been cited by some as Islam's fourth holiest city, but the origins of this postulation are dubious, and invariably bring controversial reactions.
Ethiopia's supreme Islamic Council vice-president Sheikh Elias Redwan, who is also one of the country's leading voices of Islam, categorically denied this number. "We are very proud that Harar was named a UNESCO site," he said recently, "but the fourth holiest city? No."
However, Zekaria not only believes in such a ranking, but argues also that Harar should be listed even higher. He notes that before Islam traveled to Medina, the religion's second holiest city, it arrived in Ethiopia, where the country provided refuge for Muslims fleeing persecution in the time of the Prophet Mohammed.
"As far as I am concerned Ethiopia is the second home of Islam," he says. "Before it reached the [officially recognized] second city, Islam was here. So it ... may [even] be the first-and-a-half [most holy city], but not the second."
In light of Redwan's and the Islamic Council's denial of this claim, Ahmed offers a firm, measured response. "Forget them. They are not historians," he says, adding "they don't know what they are talking about." But he is swift to reassure that "we are not trying to get into religious provocations; we are simply trying to promote Harar."
Despite the efforts of those like Zekaria and Abdusamad to do so, despite UNESCO's distinctions, and despite a World Bank project to promote local handicrafts (which one official called 'sluggish' due to 'typical World Bank bureaucracy'), Harar has a long way to go to position itself as a world-class tourist destination.
In the past, local custom dictated that every homeowner cleaned the area surrounding their door, but few do so today. The once-spotless narrow streets are now lined with plastic bags and garbage, and the trash that does get collected is dumped directly outside the city walls, often into streams and riverbeds.
Satellite dishes protrude from almost every building within the walled city. Zekaria says that "the genie" of modern excess is "out of the bottle," and cultural preservationists are having a hard time keeping up. "The speed of change is beyond our comprehension," he says.
An apt illustration of the current state of Harar is the boyhood home of former emperor Haile Selassie. Selassie's father, Ras Mekonnen, was appointed governor of Harar after Prince Menelik (later the emperor) claimed the city in 1887. Unprotected and ignored, the residence is now in grave disrepair. According to locals, 20 families of squatters are currently living within its walls.
A Muslim holiday unique to Harar, however, shows that "the Living City" is by no means fading quietly away.
Showal Eid, the culmination of an extra six days of fasting in addition to Ramadan's original 30, is a buoyant affair that brings Hararis from all over Ethiopia and the world to the city's ancient walls.
Traditionally, the day was a celebration of breaking fast but also a time for young men and women to find their spouses. Singles members of both genders dressed in colorful, resplendent attire to attract attention, and marriage unions were widely organized.
Things are slightly less traditional today, but according to many who were out on the streets during this year's Showal Eid, the spouse-hunting element is alive and well.
Attendees noted that a significant number of well-dressed young people crowded the narrow roads, looking for - if not husbands and wives - at least boyfriends and girlfriends. Questioned about the holiday, one young man in a dark blue business-suit exclaimed, "I can't talk to you - I'm looking for my future wife - she could be out there right now!" The half-dozen young men at his side laughed and nodded in agreement. They, too, peered into the heart of the festivities in search of a beautiful Harari girl.
An older woman named Meftuha, holding her own in the dance-area of a large tent concurred that Showal Eid is a great holiday worthy of attention. "All [single] women who were previously just staying ... home alone come out to dance and to find a husband," she said. And she wasn't above looking a male visitor squarely in the eye, urging him to go out and do exactly the same. "This is the perfect chance for you to find a wife [so] get out there and dance ... now's your chance!"
posted by Harar Connection at 8:56 AM
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