Inside the Holy City of Touba
Nigerian Muslim Kabiru A. Yusuf visits Touba - Senegal's city of Islam - as 200,000 followers of the Islamic Mouride brotherhood which emphasizes hard work and generosity commemorate the anniversary of the exile by the French colonial government of their movement's founder, Sheikh Ahmadou Bamba Mbacké.
The Weekly Trust (Kaduna, Nigeria), May 8, 2000

To the uninitiated, the city of Touba, some 200 km north of Dakar, the Senegalese capital, is a hot and dusty, interior commercial centre, a lot like Maiduguri in northern Nigeria. But to members of the Mouride Islamic movement, Touba is not what it appears to the ordinary eye. To the Mourides, Touba is a holy city, where the tomb of Sheikh Ahmadou Bamba Mbacké, founder of the movement, is located. It is also where his descendants rule the roost to the present day.

Senegal is a country of sheikhs. They are the ones who quietly carry the religious burden, while most ordinary Muslims attend to the more pressing needs of everyday existence. But no matter their sophistication, most Senegalese have occasions when they consult their own trusted Marabouts (or Mallams) who would guide and pray for them on intricate matters of life. There are therefore marabouts everywhere, including Dakar, which contains nearly half the country's population of 8 million people. But the really 'Grand' marabouts are far from this madding crowd. They can be found at religious centres like Kaolack or Touba or in even more obscure villages, from where their fame filters to the worldly.

Many Nigerians have heard about Kaolack from where the Tijjaniya brotherhood spread to many parts of West Africa, especially Mauritania, Nigeria, Niger, Ghana and neighbouring Gambia. In 1992, this reporter passed through Kaolack en route to Banjul, Gambia and still retains a faint impression of the town. Kaolack is a town of mosques and Zawiyyas (Sufi schools). It is an important centre of Islamic and Arabic studies to which students still flock from all over the world including Nigeria, and surprisingly America! Since nearly half of all Senegalese belong to the Tijjaniya movement, Kaolack with its international connections, is the most important religious centre in the country.

But Touba, and the smaller Mouridiyya movement which has some one million adherents, is what is now in the news, especially since the election of Abdoulaye Wade as president. Mr. Wade is a Mouride (while defeated Abdou Diouf belongs to Tijjaniya) and he surprised many, especially outside his country, when the day after his election, he travelled to Touba, to seek the blessing of the Grand Marabout, Serigne Saliou Mbacke. Mr. Wade's action typifies the contradiction in the life of the educated Senegalese. Here's a man with a Ph.D in law from a leading French University (Sorbonne) with one (French) wife and two children and yet the morning after his election his first thought is his Marabout on whom he made the obligatory call for blessings.

I made the trip to Touba to understand more about the mysterious world of the Marabouts. Like in Nigeria, the station-wagon taxi was packed with seven passengers, who chatted away in Wolof, while I observed the surroundings. The road was rough in some places; the driver took a few hair-raising bends; and from the carcass of some cars by the road side, I could see that accidents were not uncommon. Yet sandwiched though I was between two passengers on the back-seat, the journey was not uncomfortable.

I knew we were approaching holy territory when on passing a big road-side mosque, two of the passengers turned in its direction, bowed their heads and prayed. Shortly after that we entered the town of Touba. It was already noon and the temperature was probably in the upper 30s. The motor park looked no different from that of Dakar (or Kaduna for that matter). Young men and women were hawking all types of food and there was nothing particularly religious about their dressing or manner.

In a taxi into town, I noticed that many signs on shops and other buildings were in both French and Arabic. As we entered the part of town called Darou Salam, I noticed that there were many mosques in the area. But from almost any part of town, the main mosque could be seen dominating the skyline. As every traveller knows, if you are lost in an Islamic city, head for the main mosque!

Eventually, I found someone to show me round. The main mosque is one of the largest I have seen outside the Middle-East. Like the mosque in Medina, it seems to be permanently under construction. I was told that every new leader of the Mourides tried to make additions to the mosque. There are, therefore, several domes, minarets and sections named after particular individuals. The tomb of Sheikh Ahmadou Bamba, who started the Mouride movement in 1886 is also there, and after the five daily prayers, the faithfuls move into the inner sanctum to seek baraka (or blessings) through prayers and alms-giving.

When he died in 1927, Ahmadou Bamba could not have suspected he would become an object of such veneration. In his life-time, he was a member of the Qadiriyya sect, but in 1891, he was reported to have seen Prophet Muhammad (SAW) in his dream at Touba and as word spread, disciples flocked to the (then) village to join his movement. The French colonial government was so alarmed that it exiled Bamba to Gabon in 1895. Eventually, he was allowed to return home after making peace with the French and his movement grew and eventually became distinctive from the Qadiriyya. Every year, the Mourides commemorate the return of Ahmadou Bamba from exile, with a week-long religious ceremony - the Mangal - which is attended by 200,000 or more pilgrims from all parts of Senegal.

I was shown the exact spot where Bamba dreamt of the Prophet, which today has been turned into a lovely garden within which there is a spring of cool, sweetish water. The story was that when the Prophet asked Bamba to make a request, in hot and dry Touba, he naturally requested for a never-drying spring (like Zam-Zam in Mecca). and this body of water which has continued to sprout from the ground is called "Ain er Rahma" or the spring of mercy. Visitors to Touba need no urging to refer to this spring, for after walking about for an hour, the cool water of the place is indeed a great blessing! Many carry it home in bottles and jerry cans, believing that it has medicinal powers.

Indeed, there are many things about Touba that reminds one of Medina, in Saudi Arabia. The mosque is of Medinaic proportions. Like in Medina where the chief attraction is to pray at the tomb of the Prophet, many come to Touba to pray at the tomb of Sheikh Bamba. The descendants of Bamba, like those of the Prophet, are venerated, and it is believed that they continue to carry his torch.

Indeed someone explained that Bamba asked the Prophet to make Touba a second Medina so that poor African Muslims who cannot make the long journey to Saudi Arabia could go there for blessings. The Mourides believe prayers at the mosque in Touba have an excellent chance of being accepted by Allah.

Waiting for Sheikh Mbacke

While mosques and the water spring are definite attractions of Touba, most people go there to meet and receive the blessings of the leading marabouts of the city. Many of them are direct descendants of Sheikh Ahmadou Bamba. Their chief is Serigne Saliou Mbacke, who is the grand marabout of Touba. His house is right next to the mosque, and when I arrived there about 1p.m., there were already large groups of supplicants waiting to see him.

In an open courtyard, in the midst of which is a huge tree which provides tolerable shed, visitors sat in small groups waiting for the Sheikh. Most simply sat on the sand, young women with shawls covering their heads (not a common sight in Senegal). women with small children, elite-looking types with clean gowns. People sat talking and hoping. The word from his attendants was that the Sheikh returned that very morning from his dara (huge collective farms in the outlying villages where disciples work for the Sheikh). It was not clear when, or even if he would come out again that day.

I sat with a group of schoolteachers from Thies, a town near Dakar, who came in a bus to receive blessings from the Sheikh. A few of them could speak English, and one of them, Mohammed Rassoul, is in fact, an English high school teacher, with a Master's degree from Liverpool, England. The schools were closed for a few days to mark the change of government in Dakar, so this group hired a bus to spend the day in Touba.

At 2.p.m., there was the call to prayers and we all trooped to the mosque to pray. The Sheikh did not join us. So huge was the mosque that we barely formed two queues for the Zuhr prayer. The Imam does not say on rising from bowing (ruku'u) "Sami Allahu liman hamida" (as is usual) but he begins with "Rabbana…" and the muezzin (Ladan) would finish the sentence "wa lakam hamd." After the prayer, we moved to the area of the mosque where the tomb of Sheikh Bamba is located. Someone signalled to me to remove my cap before I entered (Mourides, and most Senegalese for that matter rarely wear caps). Some prayed two rakats of Nafil prayer but most just sat down on mats and prayed. Then they deposited small offerings, mostly coins in an opening provided around the tomb structure.

After the Zuhr prayer, our hope was raised somewhat when we were invited by an attendant into an inner courtyard, where again we squatted on the ground before a chair clearly meant for the Sheikh. I positioned myself for a miracle interview (Mohammed Rassoul, the school teacher from Thies had promised to translate, 'if the condition is right'). But it soon became clear that we were invited inside to eat, not to talk. Large bowls were brought out with jollof rice, chicken and beef. On the side with small cups were buckets of Zobo drinks). It was a sumptuous meal by any standards and the grateful and patched pilgrims quickly did justice to it.

Our spirits revived, I asked my companions how the Sheikh could afford to feed 50-60 people on such a lavish scale. I was told this was a regular occurrence…Mouridism encouraged hard work (hence the huge farms and other commercial projects run by the Sheikh) and generosity (the sheikh has to feed his visitors and also attend to the needs of his followers). Even the local beggars hanging around the courtyard had something to eat from the left-overs of the visitors. Then they continued chanting the name of Allah, or as in the case of one shabbily-dressed young woman praying for whoever gave her alms.

Soon it was time for Asr prayer and again we trooped to the mosque. Still no sign of Sheikh. But after the prayer and with the weather beginning to get friendlier, activities in the courtyard began to pick up. Occasionally there would be a buzz when dignitaries arrived. The attendants to the Sheikh would rush to usher them into the inner courtyard. A few of these visitors were well-known Sheikhs as people flocked to shake and kiss their hands. You know a Sheikh is important sometime by what he wears, usually white kaftan or big gown with a white shawl around his shoulders. When one such a gentleman showed up, there was a big buzz and people went forward for a shake and the kissing of hand. The eyes of a woman sitting near me, waiting with her husband, seemed to fill up with tears!

As the shadows lengthened and the procession of minor Sheikhs entering the inner courtyard increased, your correspondent began to worry about the return trip to Dakar, three hours away. but just before the Maghrib prayers, there was a sudden uproar as the humanity in the whole outer courtyard rose to its feet. Out of the door came Sheikh Mbacke, with the retinue of other Sheikhs behind him. Many were longing to, but no one dared approach to kiss his hands. He proceeded straight into the grounds of the mosque where we all trooped, keeping a respectful distance. A chair was found for him and other Sheikhs soon sat behind him. With the attendants trying their best to keep as many people away, I had to struggle to squeeze into the circle that quickly formed around the Sheikh.

Sheikh Saliou Mbacke sat on an easy chair seemingly oblivious to the fuss around him. He is a small dark and grizzled man, whose appearance is not improved by the half-white unkempt hair and beard. He was dressed in a white flowing gown, with a white shawl around his shoulders. Both were not very clean, and would appear to be what the Sheikh wore on his return journey that morning. In any case, his slightly indifferent appearance contrasted sharply with that of his entourage, some of whom wore starched white gowns and kaftans made of the finest brocade. With hands that looked like that of a practising farmer and his unsophisticated airs, he comes across as a genuine Sufi marabout.

Also while he sat gazing into the distance and mumbling on his Tazbih, the object of hundreds of eyes, the other Sheikhs were quietly chatting and laughing. However, this did not distract Sheikh Mbacke who continued to pray and occasionally read from a book passed to him by an attendant. For thirty minutes he spoke to no one and as darkness descended the whole gathering focused on his large white eye-balls which were constantly turned towards the sky.

This performance was the more hypnotic because it was all done without words. But the calls to prayers soon broke this spell and the Sheikh just as suddenly as he came, rose and departed. That would be his public appearance for that day. In the tumult, I couldn't even locate my interpreter, Mohammed Rassoul. There was nothing left to do but to say the Maghrib and Isha prayers and hit the road to Dakar.