Author: Camryn Dailey

Ibn Battutah details his travels to Turkestan and Afghanistan quite extensively, particularly his journey to and experience in the town of Khwarizm. It is here that we get more detail than usual about the experience of traveling itself, as Battutah mentions the hardships and happenings on the way from al-Sara. It illuminates just how brutal traveling could be, even for the most seasoned travelers. First, he goes through the toll it takes on the animals they are traveling with. He talked about the animals “reach[ing] the limit of the journey” (137) and having to frequently stop to rest their animals or switch them out and find different ones. What surprised me most was that they would not just rest them, but sell and abandon them completely, basing the price off of their exhaustion level. It’s interesting that they seem not to form any attachment to the animals they travel with, and I wonder if it was hard to travel with animals you have no attachment to or that don’t trust and react to you. 

Battutah then goes on to describe his own hardships and the physical and mental tolls of traveling. He says they traveled on “forced” marches for thirty full days, stopping “only for two hours each day,” just long enough to make and eat a meal (137). All those on the journey slept (rather uncomfortably, I would assume) in the wagons while they were on the move. Although, of course, for someone of the same class as Battutah, they were allowed the slave girls in their wagon. I do wonder if the comfortability and ‘furnishings’ of each wagon was determined by class. Would it be a grander and more comfortable wagon for a successful merchant like Battutah than someone of peasant class? I can only assume that Battutah’s wagon had to be relatively large in order to fit him and three slaves with him. By the way that Battutah describes Khwarizm once he reaches it, I wonder if travel ever felt useless or not worth it for what they saw on their sights. While Battutah describes the city as large and grand with fine bazaars, he also says it was uncomfortably crowded, and then just to travel to the bazaar and back was extremely strenuous – more energy than I can imagine him willing to exert after traveling for so long. 

The rest of his account follows quite a similar formula to those we see in other cities. He begins, of course, with an account of the Amir of Khwarizm. He first does something that he does quite frequently, which is to tell what the name of the Amir means. He seems to often associate name meanings greatly with the qualities and honorability of people. We see this in another place in his interactions with the black man who helped him in times of trouble. He trusted him more when he learned what his name meant and its connection to an old Shaikh he had spoken with. Battutah also seems to equate honorability with the home and its embellishments, for he talks little about actual interactions with the Amir, and spends most of his time detailing the spread of food and decoration of his house. 

We also see here an insight to the treatment of women in Khwarzim that is different from Battutah’s own. When a heavily dressed woman accompanied by servants passes him, he makes no motion to pay attention to her when she greets him, offering confusion instead. When he learns she is a khatun, a woman of great importance, he feels highly embarrassed. This makes it clear however that women do not hold any roles of that same status in his homeland. Finally, Battutah rounds off the account of the trip by detailing the array of melons, always of course noting their similarities to those kinds of fruits back home, possibly as a way for readers to conceptualize such topics in their own minds. 

As Ibn Battutah nears the end of his journey, he travels throughout Sub-Saharan Africa to what he refers to generally as “the Country of the Blacks.” In particular, he speaks at great length about the city of Malli. In Malli, Ibn Battutah becomes far less concerned with musing over beautiful architecture and religious spaces. It’s possible that this is simply due to a lack of this, or at least a lack of impression made on Ibn Battutah. More likely, I think, is that there was such extensive cultural and biological difference that Ibn Battutah observed that he was simply too shocked by these other differences to note architecture. His main concern, like it is in many other places, is hospitality.

He first reflects on how they provided for him and make them welcome, which he praises, but then he becomes quite ill upon eating a cultural dish – so ill that a friend of his dies – and this is where his perception of their hospitality begins to change. The next section is filled with hatred about how they treat visitors. Here, however, he shows a mixed reaction. While we can infer his view partially changes because he thinks himself poisoned, he does seem to feel much thanks to the men for concocting him a purgative that rids him of his sickness. This scene is a great reflection of our class discussion centering around how Battutah thinks of race and how his perceptions are related to aid and care. When he arrives in Malli, he receives the customary welcome gifts. Being on the receiving end of presents and care to make them comfortable, Battutah praises them beyond their race. Similarly, he still speaks well of them when they heal him during his sickness. However, resentment for the poisoning and a new realization that the gifts presented aren’t “good enough” change Battutah’s mind. 

One care that he maintains from earlier sections is that of rulers and sultans. After he heals, he visits the Sultan of Malli, who he immediately begins to say terrible things about, citing him as “miserly” and says his gifts are not sufficient (286). The only thing more he mentions is that they share the same religion, before going on to complain more about the gifts. Battutah expects that his gift will be lavish – robes, money, etc – but is appalled to find that it is no more than a meager amount of bread and beef. He then begins to dig into the character of the people of Malli, calling out his surprise at “their feeble intelligence and exaggerated opinion of something contemptible” (287). Here, we see quite clearly that he thinks his own cultural practices of welcome gifts to be far superior, and that he and his peers find non-monetary gifts to be insulting, though we gleam through the gift and the serving of the favorite cultural food earlier that, in Malli, those gifts are of the highest regard. He goes as far as to accost the sultan into giving him something better.

We learn the most about the beliefs and customs of Battutah’s own country when we are given a detailed account about what was good and what was bad “in the conduct of the Blacks” (289). It is interesting to notice that the things he praises are majoritively religious in nature, while the things he despises are majoritively cultural. For example, he praises the Blacks “avoidance of injustice” and the ways in which the Sultan “doesn’t allow anyone to practice it in any measure” (289-90). He seems to go as far as learning a new practice he finds fascinatingly positive and may be willing to enact himself, and that is the binding of the children until they learn the Qur’an. Religion usurps race and culture in Battutah’s view. Among the “bad” practices are the “comical” recitation of poetry, the nudity of women, and the food they consume, such as dogs and donkeys. This, Battutah finds abominable. Between this and the meal he fell ill from, we can see that he cares greatly about food practices and finds those in Mali animalistic and inferior. 

From a brief stint in the city of Ba’labakk, Battuta travels at last to the city of Damascus, noting his hurry to arrive there. He takes a whopping six pages to tell of its tales, sights, and histories, the longest he has spent in one place up until this point. Interestingly, he favors this even over the arguably greater religious cities he has already traveled through, including Bethlehem and Jerusalem, noting that it “is the city that surpasses all others in beauty and takes precedence of them in loveliness” (36). Much like he does in other holy lands, he begins by relaying the city’s significance through the poems/stories of other writers; what he shares in this instance are the words of his father which call her a “lover’s torment,” for all her beauty, as well as the words of another poet. The relaying of others’ writing displays a love or trust in the works of others. Unlike other writers we have read, Battuta is not at all concerned with only speaking of what he himself sees. He loves to speak of the stories he hears from others and eagerly shares and praises them. It also showcases great respect and pride of the father, possibly a value of his culture.

To the point of embracing the tales of others, Battuta primarily relates Damascus through the narrative of Shaikh Abu Abdallah. He begins by moving through its religious buildings, firstly the great Mosque of the Umayyads which he designates the “greatest mosque on earth” with “no rival” (36). Once again, he takes time to praise the architects themselves. This may show a reverence and respect in Battuta’s homeland for hard work, creativity, and the beauty of design, for this is a theme he discusses in nearly every location he visits. Of the creation of the buildings, he is careful to note their loyalty to God – even their creativity and art is something of religious service.

For what I believe is the first time, he begins to discuss non-construction/religious professions (in the sense of priests) and begins to focus much on education practices – most importantly the virtue of those in that profession. He dedicates one section of his Damascus tale to the professors and teachers of the mosque. He seems very interested in the breadth of readings taught, as well as how specialized these courses are. In fact, there is one teacher for each subject, and students move classes to study the Qur’an, the Book of God, the books of Tradition, as well as writing and calligraphy. In almost a dumbfounded way, Battutah says they become masters in calligraphy because the teacher of writing “teaches nothing else” (38). From this, we can interpret that in Battuta’s home, education is much more “jumbled” and less individual in depth study rather than a general knowledge about a breadth of teachings.

Returning again to his own witness, Battutah is fascinated by religious cohabitation. All faiths seem to, with no animosity, pray and exist together: “they all walk…carrying Qur’ans in their hands…the Jews went out with their book of the Law and the Christians with their Gospel” (39). At a time when religious divide is much more apparent and forms the basis of many civilizations, Battutah likely hasn’t experienced this form of religious acceptance and freedom without tension.

Finally, Battutah praises the customs of the inhabitants of Damascus, including their graciousness and virtue, and how they nearly all expenses for those on Pilgrimage (again, we find that the focus is on religious piety). He recalls seeing this charity in action, writing about seeing a young boy accidentally drop and break an expensive dish. Marvelously, members of the crowd and the local custodian supply him with the means to purchase a new one. He is also amazed by their hospitality and communal style of living, for he experiences that no one eats breakfast alone during Ramadan, and he is invited to a home each day to join the locals in breaking the fast. Battutah holds virtue in high esteem.

Please find below the link to my map.

Journey of Ibn Battutah

Key:

Dark Yellow/Mustard: Focus on architecture/terrain

Bright Yellow: Focus on Hospitality

Pink: Focus on Religion

Purple: Focus on Local History/Folklore

Ibn Battuta, born in Tangier, leaves on a pilgrimage for Jerusalem from his birthplace in roughly 1325 at 22-years-old. From there, he travels along the Nile, going first through Egypt. Traveling alone seems to be peculiar for his time, as he takes particular care to mention that he does not travel with a caravan, and that though others offer him kindness and suggest they travel together, he continues on his own after sickness continues to render them immobile. One great hindrance to the early part of Ibn Battuta’s travels is sickness. He discusses coming down with fever multiple times, causing him to have to continue to camp out for nights longer than he plans – though these visits still usually land around 3-10 days. Battuta is not one for staying somewhere long – rather, he intends to make the most of his travels, hitting as many new towns and cities as he can along the way. One imam he meets even notes about him that he seems “fond of travelling and wandering from land to land,” which he confirms (8). Interestingly, though he is highly concerned with religion (though he is by no means critical of other religions. Rather, he is much more open about it than past authors, and comments with either curiosity or simply apathy when he notices other towns go about their practices differently) he seems only concerned with his own piousness. Any time God is mentioned, in a passing story or his own narration, he takes a number of lines to praise him, and dedicates an entire two of twenty-five pages in this section to the recitation of a litany. 

In each town or city he visits, he is primarily concerned with their local religious leaders. He makes sure to visit their holy sites or homes in each place to meet their shaikh. He talks at length of their conversations, but particularly the ways in which they display themselves as benevolent and kind leaders and make their towns better. He does not criticize any of their tactics, nor any of the people of the land. In fact, except for a couple of lines about clothing he finds interesting, he hardly mentions the physical characteristics of the townspeople at all. Though, like with each shaikh, he holds hospitality in the highest regard. One of his only criticisms throughout the journey is that one town refused to give him more guest-gifts after finding out he was traveling light and had nothing to offer them. Tied in with hospitality, he also discusses, again with curiosity and not contempt, the dining practices of each town or city he visits. He complains only when some Mongols he comes across don’t eat enough, and he constantly finds himself hungry in their presence (with the caveat that he himself is a larger man with a good appetite, while they are much more petite). He is also fascinated with local monuments and architecture. Though he never says exactly what buildings look like, he will go on for lines about how they seem to have been built with such grace, and how their buildings are fit to host the grandest of peoples and nature – he does this in many places. He has a genuine concern for the man-made wonders of the world. He disregards false wonders. He only shows true disgust once, when he discovers that the men in the bath house bathe naked together, and complains enough to get the law changed before he leaves. 

From his writing, I can assume his own culture is far more accepting of differences than earlier writers we have read, though this does come from a time with more cross-cultural contact. This does reflect a more open and less religiously strict – in terms of religious diversity and hatred across religious borders – than seems to have existed in earlier times. However, we also know from his concern with his own religiousness that Tangier likely followed religious doctrine very strictly – he is traveling to Jerusalem after all. It is unclear who he is writing to; he is merely accounting his journey. He wishes to visit all the great sites he has heard about through such religion, and longs to receive wisdom from religious leaders across the continent. He is a man with far more curiosity, acceptance, and genuine love of God and the world for its creation of humanity and longs to appreciate it all with his own eyes in order to understand it as best he can.