The year is 1248: North Africa has been Islamicized for six centuries and Fes
has grown under Sultan Idriss II to become a center of learning unparalleled
across the Eastern hemisphere, and a place of spiritual importance third only
to Mecca and Medina. Meanwhile, across the Mediterranean, Europe lies so
profoundly entrenched in the religious dogma of the Dark Ages that science and
mathematics are regarded as practically akin to sorcery and devil-worship. It
is, for the moment, the Islamic world that holds the key to learning and the
avancement of civilization: even Pope Sylvester II has traveled to Fes to
study, and the Andalusian architects, mathematicians, and planners who have
come to participate in the society now run by the Merenids (the last of
Morocco's Berber empires) are building one of medieval Islam's most impressive
cities.
But it is equally a moment of transition: Portuguese sea power is growing and
European explorers are slowly gaining courage as they sail south of Cape
Boujadour, hoping to expand the trade routes that for the moment pass through
the Sahara. Mercantalism is winning over religious edict. Before long Spain's
Ferdinand and Isabella will drive the Moors from Al Andalus in the south of
Spain, and the balance of power will shift to the West. But for now, the
Merenid empire, and its capital at Fes, are on the ascent.den bins of
clementines, flat breads, and dates, stunning zellij tilework and calligraphy.
It is into this particular moment we plunged when we entered Fes, because as
the most complete example of a medieval Islamic city, Fes remains largely
unchanged since the 13th century. How fortunate for us, because as a result,
Fes is astonishing. Fes is also lovely and captivating. It's easy to wax
poetic about the narrow cobbled streets built to the dimensions of a donkey
cart, the souks (markets) shuttered under awnings of sewn rushes, and the
wooden bins of clementines, flat breads, and dates. Just as captivating are
the stunning zellij tilework and calligraphy of the Medersa Bou Inania and the
powerful stone archways of the city gates.
But what I really enjoyed was the sense of history and of humankind's
intellectual awakening from the slumber of the Dark Ages. On that topic I
highly recommend Daniel Boorstin's The Discoverers: A History of Man's Search
to Know the World and Himself, which tells in captivating detail the story of
humankind's gradual intellectual growth and understanding of the dimensions of
our physical and natural world. Having read it gave Fes a whole new dimension,
because a good deal of that narrative takes place in North Africa, while Europe
smothered in dogma (Umberto Eco successfully captures the mood in Europe at
that time in The Name of the Rose, a long but worthwhile read).
The water clock at Medersa Bou Inania is a compelling example. Dating back to
the mid-1300s, the clock consisted of a wooden structure, 13 brass bowls, and a
series of wooden windows that would open at prescribed times, causing a weight
to drop into or onto the brass bowl. Europeans' concept of measuring time was
centuries behind, and they thus began building clocks hundreds of years
afterwards.
In Fes I found it easier to marvel at what such a technological advance must
really have meant in that era because the city today is so similar to the Fes
of six hundred years ago: the markets, the call to prayer, the workshops, and
the people shuffling down the narrow alleyways in their thick, hooded robes.
To keep that spirit for so long makes Fes a special place indeed.
