First published as a Brunei Times feature (June 9, 2007):
Visiting Eyüp Sultan
by Abd al-Hafidh Wentzel
All over the world, and especially in the Middle East, we find that places are named after great personalities. Be it cities or towns like the Egyptian Alexandria or its Turkish equivalent Iskenderun, both presumably named after Alexander the Great, or city quarters, like Shaykh Muhyiddin in Damascus, named after the renowned Sufi master Ibn ‘Arabi, as well as Fatih in Istanbul, so called after the fortunate Ottoman conqueror, Sultan Muhammad Fatih Khan. Another one of Istanbul’s famous historical quarters derives its name, Eyüp, from Abu Ayyub al-Ansari, a distinguished companion and one of the standard bearers of the Prophet Muhammad – blessings and peace be upon him and his family and all his companions. Since Ottoman times the Turks have called him Eyüp Sultan, expressing thereby his high rank in the spiritual realm, as amongst the pious he is without a doubt considered the greatest of Istanbul’s countless friends of God – be they among the living or the dead. So it is no surprise that the district where his mausoleum and mosque are situated, a few hundred meters outside the ancient city walls and close to the banks of the estuary known as Golden Horn, should bear his name.
Abu Ayyub al-Ansari was born Khalid, son of Zayd ibn Kulayb, belonging to the clan of Banu Najjar, in the year 587 in Medina al-Munawwara. He embraced Islam at the hands of the Prophet – may blessings and peace be upon him – and swore him fealty at the second pledge of Aqaba. Of all the many Medinan ‘Helpers’ of the Prophet, the ‘Ansar’, he was granted the honour to be the Prophet’s first host when he arrived in Medina after his migration from Mecca. Later on in his life, Abu Ayyub took part in many battles and expeditions, the last of which set out from Damascus during the reign of Muawiya in 668 against the Romans, and was led by the latter’s son Yazid. This campaign had almost reached the outskirts of Byzanz, when its octogenarian standard bearer fell seriously ill. He called for the commander and informed him, that he was about to leave this world. He asked Yazid to press on towards the Eastern Roman capital as far as possible and then bury his body there. When it became obvious to the Muslim army that they were unable to conquer the city, Abu Ayyub was buried outside its walls. The exact burial site was soon forgotten and only rediscovered after Sultan Muhammad Fatih took Istanbul in 1453.
The story goes that after conquering the city the Sultan asked his spiritual mentor, Shaykh Akshamsuddin, to help him find the grave of the noble companion. They set out with great entourage into the woods and thorny thickets outside the city walls, until, after a while, the sage asked for a mat to perform two cycles of prayer asking for divine guidance. When he had completed his prayer and supplicated God, his eyes flowed over with tears. Some of the less pious courtiers started giggling and made comments like, “look, he is crying, because he cannot find it!” But, far from that, his tears were tears of joy, as he had been inspired that just where he had prayed, beside a large plane tree, lay the body of the venerable Abu Ayyub – may God be pleased with him. The plane tree still stands, framed with decorative latticework, in the middle of the inner courtyard of the mosque complex. After Shaykh Akshamsuddin’s words had proved true and the body of Abu Ayyub, untouched by decay through the centuries – for such is one of the divine grants to the friends of God – had been discovered in the spot indicated, Sultan Muhammad Fatih had a finely embellished mausoleum and a magnificent mosque built in memory of the distinguished companion. Each generation of rulers, and countless individual sponsors, have left no effort to adorn and beautify the mausoleum. Calligraphies, crystal chandeliers and silver decorations from different centuries cover the mausoleum’s hall and the radiant tomb chamber. Embedded in the wall facing the direction of prayer is a footprint of the Prophet – peace be upon him – in marble stone framed in silver. Thousands come to visit Abu Ayyub al-Ansari’s grave. Istanbul workers and businessmen in their suits and ties, farmers from Anatolia and modern girls with flashy headscarves casually thrown over, traditionally black clad Muslim ladies, countryside women in their colourful dresses, intellectuals, students and, of course, so many foreigners from all over the globe – they all come to pay their respect, to recite from the Qur’an, to ask for Allah’s blessings, to breathe the subtle air of spirituality in the presence of this great friend of God.
Since Abu Ayyub’s mosque was erected, thousands of prominent personalities, and even more common men and women, have been buried in its vicinity, all in the hope of being raised on Judgment Day together with the Prophet’s standard-bearer. Today Eyüp’s graveyard is one of the biggest of Istanbul; still, almost every pious Muslim of the city would like to be buried here.
From the mosque, framed on both sides by century old graves of Ottoman family members and state officials, towards the landing place of the ferryboats crossing the Golden Horn, leads a stately road, which for a lengthy time in history witnessed the “dressing-of-the-sword” ceremonies marking the ascension of a new sultan. At one side of the road, tucked away inside a green garden full of trees and flowers, lie the premises of a traditional soup kitchen belonging to the ‘waqf’, the endowment, of the Eyüp Mosque. Here, since the days of Sultan Fatih, free food for the poor and needy, the widows, elderly and orphans is cooked in enormous steaming kettles and huge stew pots.
On the opposite side of the mosque, beyond the outer courtyard with its ‘shadirvan’, the round, roofed place for ritual ablutions, typical for all Ottoman mosques, lies a spacious, newly outlaid square, paved with traditional cobblestone, offering an invigorating fountain at its centre and plenty of benches to sit and relax. From a small side street of souvenir shops, bursting with all the paraphernalia a visitor to the mausoleum might want to purchase, be it headscarves, prayer mats or beads, religious books or fragrances, one can hear the sounds of Turkish ‘ilahi’ songs, religious tunes in praise of Allah, Prophet Muhammad, or his companions – blessings and peace be upon him and upon all of them. Around the square, vendors sell ‘simit’, Turkey’s famous sesame curls, which go so well with the strong, sweet local tea, while close by a number of street cafes and several restaurants offer their services.
My personal favourite snack though is a local speciality called ‘güvec’, a flat, oval yeast-dough pastry, covered with minced mutton mixed with a special blend of herbs and spices, sold hot out of the oven in a few small eateries in the neighbouring pedestrian precinct. ‘Güvec’ is typically served with ‘ayran’, a lightly salted yoghurt drink. I have tasted nothing like it anywhere except in this area of Eyüp.
Naturally, there is more to Eyüp than the vicinity of the mosque. Eyüp is a large, densely populated district throbbing with activity, like any other part of Istanbul, packed with businesses, workshops, factories, schools, offices and shops. But, unlike other districts where high rising office towers have taken over, Eyüp has kept its traditional flair; many of the old wooden houses still stand, painstakingly restored under the strict and exacting eyes of the district administration.
Eyüp’s coastal road along the Golden Horn towards Eminönü is lined with time-honoured mosques, dome-covered tombs and a multitude of historical buildings. One of these edifices is the ‘Mehteran’, which used to be the seat of the Ottoman army’s marching bands. Even today, on special holydays, the Mehteran serves as the starting point for processions of turban clad men with huge moustaches, marching in goose step wearing their colourful band uniforms, chanting heroic war tunes to the rhythms of kettle drums and timpani, to celebrate the unforgotten glory of the Ottoman Empire.
Opposite the Mehteran, along the banks of the Golden Horn, stretches a huge, flat, reddish building complex: the ‘Feshane’, erected by Sultan Mahmud II. in 1826, where, until their prohibition by the Kemalists, the ‘fes’, the typical red felt hat worn by Ottoman state officials was manufactured by the hundred thousands. After several years of refurbishment, the Feshane has been turned into an exhibition centre that accommodates a variety of smaller fairs throughout the year. In the month of Ramadan the Feshane’s different halls house expositions of Islamic arts and present, after the special ‘tarawih prayers’ performed during the fasting month, a multifarious cultural program, attended last year, free of charge, by almost two million visitors.
There is much more to be seen in and around Eyüp, but let me finish on this note: Since my first time in Istanbul a visit to Eyüp has always been a must; moreover, on every occasion I have left Eyüp I felt at peace, while at the same time longing to return soon to discover more of its mysteries.
