Silent and graceful, they come and go—the Fassis in their yellow babouches. Their attire is modest in the extreme: immaculate among the wealthy, somewhat neglected among the lower middle class, artisans, and the poor. Yet, it is the same white wool that clothes them all. Only the students wear garments of color, but under the midday sun, filtering through the reed screens that cover the narrow streets, even the boldest hues are softened, as if bathed in moonlight.
— You, young man with the deep, dreamy gaze, have carefully chosen that vibrant orange or rich violet from the wool merchant who smokes his kif pipe in his stall at the wool souk. But you know that under the light of Fez, the orange will take on delicate grayish tones, and the violet will darken into a muted black. That is why you often prefer soft pinks, subtle grays, and celestial greens.
A City Without Women in the Streets
Women are scarcely seen in the streets, save for a few elderly slaves carrying provisions balanced on their heads in coarse towels, a handful of veiled Black women in blue, and beggars of indeterminate age, endlessly repeating their plaintive invocation of Allah.
The charm of Fez’s streets owes nothing to the presence of women. One must admit that their absence is part of what makes the city’s unique atmosphere possible.
The women of Fez live behind the walls of homes that appear modest from the outside. Nothing but a heavier door, adorned with larger nails, or a slightly bulging Andalusian window distinguishes the residence of a wealthy man. There is no rich quarter, no poor quarter. The affluent do own beautiful country houses on the surrounding hills, but within Fez, all live in fraternal proximity, where the wealthy must practice discretion, and the less fortunate maintain dignity and politeness.
There is an Arabic word that perfectly captures this subtle, soul-deep politeness that defines life in Fez: hichma, or more commonly, hachouma.
Hachouma: The Spirit of Fez
Hachouma is a profound sense of decorum, a moral restraint that compels one to turn away from improper sights and conversations.
Hachouma, combined with Islamic serenity, gives the Fassi people an air of noble detachment and distinction. It dictates the conduct of young men:
They do not speak loudly in the presence of elders, nor even before slightly older brothers or cousins.
A younger man does not smoke in front of his elder, let alone his father or uncle.
It is improper to show anger, walk hurriedly, argue in public, or express joy too openly.
Affection is never displayed without restraint.
Here come two pale and refined young men—students of the Al-Qarawiyyin University, no doubt—walking side by side, carrying loose pages of a book from one of their lessons. They do not speak. Instead, they hold each other gently by the little finger.
Let us follow them. They climb a small hill, from which, at sunset, silhouettes of women slowly gather on rooftop terraces, while unseen music drifts up from hidden courtyards. Even here, they remain silent, or speak so softly, in such measured rhythm, that they seem indifferent to the beauty before them.
But do not be deceived. These young men are artists in their own way. They savor the moment when Fez takes on the luster of a fine pearl, but it would be indecent for them to marvel aloud, joke, or express their pleasure too openly, as Western students might.
Hachouma in Art and Architecture
Hachouma is everywhere in Fez. It shapes life, art, and architecture.
It would be shameful for a person’s wealth to be visible on the exterior of their home. Only mosques, medersas, and a few public fountains—endowed as religious foundations (habous)—may display intricate geometric designs, delicate stone lacework, and elaborate mosaics to the eyes of passersby.
Let us step inside a wealthy home, granted the rare privilege of entry.
Despite the dazzling interplay of colors, the mosaics and paintings remain discreet. Their patterns are purely geometric. This is not unique to Fez but to all cities where Islam remains deeply preserved, shaping all aspects of life.
Reflect for a moment: the geometric patterns in Islamic ornamentation, rooted in religious doctrine, are the result of successive refinements—stripping reality of its picturesque elements to stylize it into calm, meditative forms.
Scholar E. Borrel notes that:
- A polygon with an even number of sides evokes stability and, when repeated, creates a feeling of peace.
- A polygon with an odd number of sides, on the other hand, suggests imbalance, which, when multiplied, can become unsettling.
Interlacing patterns, Arabic letters, and numerical figures carry mystical meanings, much like numbers did in medieval Europe. The scholar Louis Massignon, in an article on Arabic as the liturgical language of Islam, explains how each letter of the Arabic alphabet holds a transcendent value.
A believer, spending long hours in quiet contemplation within his home, finds endless themes for meditation in the calligraphy woven into his walls.
Yet, all of this remains subtle and understated. It is suggested, never imposed. It lacks the harsh realism and aggressive slogans that define much of modern ornamentation.
A City Beyond Materialism
Another defining feature of Fez’s ancient culture is its indifference to material gain.
Despite being a historically bourgeois city, Fez has escaped the vulgarities of wealth.
“The forces of money have not yet debased them,” writes Philippe Guiberteau. “That is why there is still light in the faces of Fez’s many workers… They never forget that we are but dust. The merchant, crouched behind his stall, does not answer me, for he is reciting his prayer beads. At the news of a misfortune, great or small, people say: ‘It means nothing.’ On every wall in Fez, the name of Allah is written a hundred times over.”
Faith and Generosity
The Fassi is deeply religious. Allah is at the center of his life.
- He attends the mosque several times a day, each trade having its own religious brotherhood and patron saint.
- He gives a significant portion of his earnings to the poor, as instructed by the Qur’an.
- On certain days, swarms of beggars gather at the homes of the wealthy, seeking alms. No one leaves empty-handed.
Even those whose faith is merely ceremonial are too conscious of their reputation and dignity to allow themselves to appear driven by greed.
There is grace and nobility in the way they wear eternity in their garments, their gestures, and their presence.
It suits the very soul of their city, where the most familiar sounds are the murmur of underground waters and the strange, rhythmic clatter of storks’ beaks, echoing above the rooftops.