Author: Helen Malone

Storymap

The most significant difference between al-Idrisi’s Tabula Rogeriana and our modern Google Earth map, is, of course, its orientation: the Tabula Rogeriana is oriented south-up, and we in modern times are most accustomed to thinking of north as upwards. This difference reflects a variation in religious and cultural beliefs. Muslims, such as Muhammad al-Idrisi, the map’s creator, and Ibn Battutah, a well-traveled medieval jurist, would think of south as being downwards and closer to hell, because in Islamic cosmology hell was cold. On the other hand, our modern satellite maps, made in a culture dominated by those of European descent, continue to place the European continent at the top of the world. And because this culture is also largely dominated by Christianity, we might tend to think of the hotter southern lands as being more hellwards. Ibn Battutah might have thought of his journey as being relatively safe (at least, as safe as travel could be in that era), because he remained mostly in warmer, more “heavenly” zones, and didn’t journey terribly far into the hellishly cold northern climates. The Tabula Rogeriana also places Mecca as the center of the world, which is something Ibn Battutah likely would have internalized as well. A modern satellite map, however, has no center, and one can scroll across the whole map in one seamless loop.

The Tabula Rogeriana contains only the world that was known at the time, and focuses mainly on Europe, West Asia, and North Africa. It is most detailed around the Mediterranean, and becomes less detailed the further east it goes. Eastern cities such as Delhi, which Ibn Battutah visited during his travels, are nowhere to be found on the map. So embarking on such a journey could feel dangerous, as one is quite literally stepping into the unknown. Travel during modern times, on the other hand, is far easier to navigate, since satellite maps are able to provide an accurate image of an area, down to specific buildings and landmarks. Traveling is far less stressful and pathways are less unknown, because if one is lost, one can simply open the satellite map and use their location to pinpoint exactly where they are in relation to everything around them. Modern maps also allow us to view the entire world, because we are able to literally send a camera up into space and take pictures of everything, and so we have knowledge of entire continents and landmasses that were completely unbeknownst to the people of Ibn Battutah’s time. 

The Tabula Rogeriana is surprisingly accurate for a map made long before the era of satellite photography. To draw the shapes of the landmasses so faithfully, especially over such a large area, is an impressive feat indeed. That being said, the map is the most accurate along the coastlines of the Mediterranean. It would, after all, be far easier to draw a city located on the coast than to draw one further inland, where there may not be as significant a geographical feature to locate it by. While mapping Ibn Battutah’s journey on the Tabula Rogeriana, I had a far easier time locating the coastal cities he visited. With the inland ones, though, I sort of had to take my best guess and zoom in, and then scan around a lot until I found a phonetically similar name (as I cannot read Arabic, I used a version of the map that had been helpfully transliterated into the Latin alphabet). For travelers such as Ibn Battutah, moving away from the coastline may have felt more like entering uncertain territory, since it’s easier to get lost and disoriented without an idea of what landmarks you can reference along your way. The Tabula Rogeriana also does not make any real distinction between cities based on size or landmarks, although there are a few exceptions. Alexandria is drawn with its iconic lighthouse, and there’s a grouping of four cities further east surrounded by a circular, almost spiky looking wall. Beyond that, though, there’s very little to differentiate one city from the next. Natural features such as mountains or rivers abound, but if one were to become completely lost and stumble upon some mountain or river, it would be very difficult to identify exactly which one you were looking at by using the map. Or, worse, you could follow a river or navigate around a mountain believing it to be the landmark needed to stay on your route, only to discover they were two completely different mountains and you’ve gone the wrong way entirely. Your best hope in order to ensure you take the right path and get to your destination would be to rely on locals familiar with the area. Much different than travel in this day and age, when any idiot can pull up Waze to tell them which route to take.

Ibn Battutah dedicates two full chapters to the city of Delhi and the Sultan Muhammad Ibn Tughluq. As usual, he describes the pious men he meets there, as well as some of the unique architecture he sees, such as the wall surrounding the city, the Cathedral Mosque, and several great reservoirs of water that crops can be planted around. But the majority of his writing revolves around the Sultan and his two main hobbies: giving gifts and ordering executions. Ibn Battutah spends several sections displaying the wealth and power this king possesses, from the elaborate arrangement of his court during an audience to the elephants adorned with precious stones that he rides upon. He is very generous, and Ibn Battutah dedicates multiple sections to detailing the many fine gifts he has made to other men of note. He also once distributed stored food during a famine to provide for his people, and allowed a young boy to beat him as justice for a wrong he had committed against the boy, so he overall just seems like a pretty great and charitable guy. 

And then we hard pivot into his “murders and reprehensible actions” (176).

The sultan is, at least, an equal opportunity aggressor, and will punish people regardless of their status or the severity of their crime. It’s at this point that Ibn Battuah seems to balk a little at the sultan’s violence, seeing the bloody bodies left outside the gates and praying “may God deliver us from misfortune!” (176). He is very strict about religion being properly observed, and will kill people to punish them if they do not pray. Ibn Battutah, who went on this journey to uphold religious law in the first place, does not express an opinion either positive or negative on this choice. He does, however, seem reasonably fearful in the sections recounting the executions of multiple jurists, probably worried that he will end up next on that list. And indeed, towards the end of his stay there comes a point in which that seems to be a distinct possibility. The Sultan commands Ibn Battutah to stay in the capital, and sends slaves to follow him everywhere. Fearing for his life, Ibn Battutah spends nine days fasting and reciting the quran, at the end of which the Sultan decides to spare him. He is then given permission to travel as the Sultan’s ambassador, at which point Ibn Battutah decides not to test his luck and leaves as quickly as possible in case he changes his mind. 

Throughout these chapters, Ibn Battutah is, once again, concerned with slaves. Not in the sense that he is concerned with the institution of slavery and how slaves are treated, but in that he is very concerned about making sure his readers know just how easy it is to get slaves on account of how cheap they are here, even the educated ones. When he gives an account of an incident he had with one of his slaves, wherein a slave boy ran away from him and was found in the possession of another man whom he would eventually kill, Ibn Battutah calls this incident “a miracle,” after which he “withdraw[s] from the world and giv[es] all that I possessed to the poor and needy” (165). He shows no concern for the man who was killed, or gives any acknowledgement that a life in slavery might have led the boy to such violence in an attempt to gain his freedom. His only concern is that he was not the one owning the slave when he decided to kill his master, and so fortunately kept his life. He also gives the account of the death of his infant daughter, the child of one of his slave girls, and the funeral ceremonies the Sultan has performed for her. The sultan gives the mother of the child many fine gifts, but rather than allowing this grieving mother to retain the things that were given to her, Ibn Battutah casually redistributes it all to his companions, because she is his slave girl and he is free to do whatever he likes with her. 

Upon his arrival in Constantinople, Ibn Battutah describes the welcome procession that comes out to greet them. However, this seems to be far more for the sake of the Khatun, who had escorted Ibn Battutah’s party on a recent leg of their journey, as her parents, the sultan and his wife, welcome her home. Their procession kicks up so much dust that he is afraid of being trampled in the confusion, so he sticks close to the Khatun’s party. He notes that Muslims are not allowed to enter the palace without permission, and so special permission has to be granted by the Sultan for them to be let inside. He is also concerned with the gifts of hospitality that are made to him, which are mostly food, but seem acceptable based on his lack of further commentary. Before meeting the Sultan, Ibn Battutah is searched for knives, but he is assured that this practice is common and would be done no matter who he was— that is, they are not doing this merely because he is a traveler or a Muslim. He notes that the mosaics of the Sultan’s hall depict both animate and inanimate beings, which would be important to him because in Islamic art, it is forbidden to depict living creatures. The Sultan asks him about the Christian landmarks he has visited, and their conversation is interpreted by a Jew. Continuing with his custom of noting the marvels and holy people he encounters, Ibn Battutah describes the exterior of the great Aya Sufiya church, and the former King Jirjis, who renounced the throne in order to become a monk. He notes that within the Aya Sufiya, there is a separate church exclusively for women, but that he was unable to see the inside of the church for himself, because he would be required to prostrate himself before the cross in order to enter. He doesn’t voice any opinion on the women’s church, and it isn’t clear from his writing whether he judges them for letting women study, or appreciates that they are kept separate from the men. In fact, there are very few aspects of religious life here that Ibn Battutah appears to judge, even when they differ from his own beliefs, such as the artistic depictions of living beings. However, as an Islamic jurist traveling to insure Islam is being practiced properly and its laws are being upheld, his concern lies solely among fellow Muslims, and so what the Christians are doing is of no concern to him. His negative comments in this section are few: that the bazaars are dirty, that the coinage the Khatun gives him as a parting gift is not good money, and that with the exception of the Aya Sufiya, their churches are also “dirty and mean” (132). In total, he spends a month and six days in the city, being provided for by the Khatun and her family. Though he disapproves of the money they give him, he is made many more valuable and useful parting gifts, such as a fine woolen cloth, silks, and horses for his journey.

Having joined a new caravan, Ibn Battutah travels over land and sea before arriving in Baghdad. He is far less impressed by this city than the others he has come to, as it seems to be on the decline and there is nothing stunningly beautiful about the city, save the Tigris river flowing through it, which he compares to “a necklace ranged between two breasts,” once again ascribing feminine traits to a city in his descriptions (75).  At this point Ibn Juzayy inserts a segment of a poem by Abu Tammam, which similarly laments the deterioration of Baghdad. While unimpressed by the city as a whole, Ibn Battutah is, however, greatly amazed by the bathhouses of the city, which have individual cubicles for privacy and provide their patrons with multiple towels in order to cover themselves properly. It’s clear from his tone that this is what he feels a bathhouse should be like, unlike the one in Egypt, where he was horrified by the way the patrons did not cover themselves. 

Ibn Battutah also lists the number of mosques within the city, and describes the Mustansiriyah College, and how teaching is carried out within it. He again speaks of the great men he encounters, this time the Sultan Abu Sa’id, who is of course also a man of great generosity and excellence. He breaks his account of Abu Sa’id’s charity towards a group of blind beggars to tell of the Sultan’s later life, how he killed the amir that had held power over him when he ascended to the throne at a young age, and his later death at the hands of one of his jealous wives. This section seemed a sharp contrast to the ones surrounding it, and I wondered whether it was inserted to give some more dramatic entertainment to the audience through a story of political and romantic intrigue. It is unclear when or from who Ibn Battutah heard this story, since he is recounting both his journey and the events of Abu Sa’id’s death after they happened, but it’s unlikely that Ibn Battutah was there himself when the fateful murders took place. So it is very likely that, even if he is getting this from another source, it may have already been dramatically embellished by the time it reached him.

Ibn Battutah then returns to the account of his journey, traveling along with the Sultan in his mahallah so that he can see all the ceremonials performed for him. He describes the musicians that play for him, the amirs, the standard-bearers, and the many soldiers that march with them, as well as the punishments they suffer for lagging behind their company. By doing this Ibn Battutah demonstrates the great power of the Sultan, to command so many, as well as a sort of equality in his treatment, as no one, whether they be of high or low rank, is exempt from being punished for wrongdoing. Ibn Battutah journeys with them for ten days, until they arrive in the city of Tabriz.

Leaving Cairo, Ibn Battutah continues along through some other cities before arriving in Mecca. He and his companions are overcome with wonder and joy, since making this pilgrimage to Mecca was the point of their journey, and completing the Hajj is an important part of every Muslim’s life. Before entering the city, they stop at a wadi, or river valley, to bathe themselves, exchange their regular clothes for pilgrim garments, and pray. He describes the shape of the city of Mecca, noting that, as is written in the Quran, it is within “a valley bare of corn,” and so “fruits of every kind” are brought to the city, providing it with many fine foods from different countries (48). He has nothing but praise for the people of Mecca, enumerating their generosity for the poor, their excellent grooming habits, and the beauty of their women who would sooner go hungry than not have the money to buy perfume. He also describes their eating habits, and that they only eat one meal a day and otherwise only eat dried dates if they get hungry, so they are all very healthy and don’t often get sick. Ibn Battutah mostly describes the people he meets and the interactions he has with them. While he is staying in Mecca at the Muzaffariyah college, he has a dream of the Apostle of God in which many, including the Shaikh Abu Abdallah, come in and give them his allegiance. When he wakes up he recounts this dream to the Shaikh, who weeps and, from then on, always upholds the pledge he made in the dream to never again turn away a hungry supplicant from his house. He also tells the story of the strange demoniac living in Mecca at the time of his visit, although he doesn’t specify whether or not he ever personally met him. Instead, he narrates the tale of the strange faqir Hasan met, and how he came to lose his voice and his reason. The people of the town looked after him until he was taken back to Egypt by a pilgrim. 

Interestingly, Ibn Battutah doesn’t describe the rites of the pilgrimage itself, only writing the date he left the city on after they were completed, and which caravan he was hired onto. Perhaps he feels he doesn’t need to describe the rites, since they would be familiar already to his imagined audience, who would have undoubtedly also been Muslims. Or he assumes they would have already heard accounts of it already from other writers, or perhaps people they knew personally who had made the pilgrimage. So instead he focuses on the personal details of his own journey: the interesting people he meets, the religious vision he has, and so on. Perhaps this is why he wishes to continue traveling rather than simply returning home after completing his Hajj, since he wants to tell stories of all the marvels and strange things he has seen, and collect experiences that can’t be found in other accounts.

Upon arriving in Cairo, Ibn Battutah focuses most on the religious people living there, the structures within the city, such as the pyramids and mosques, and the natural features, particularly the Nile river. As it is such a large city, he lists the many sorts of people that can be found within— “learned and simple, grave and gay, prudent and foolish, base and noble, of high estate and low estate, unknown and famous” (15). He does not seem to have a particularly low or high opinion of the people, as this general overview is really the only description he gives of most of the city’s population. He does however concern himself with the lives of those in the numerous convents of Cairo, one of which he stays at, describing the food and clothing its members receive, and the Qur’an readers hired by the people in the al-Qarafah cemetery. He stayed for what sounds to be a single night in a convent at Dair al-Tin which contained some relics from the Prophet himself, such as the awl for sewing his sandals, a fragment of his wooden basin, and his kohl pencil. However, he does not make any mention as to what his stay was like there, such as what he ate and who else was with him, only that the Sahib (of whom no description is provided, therefore it is possible Ibn Battutah never met him) provides it with funds to feed the travelers who stay there.He shows reverence for the current sultan and some of the amirs, describing him as “a man of generous character and great virtues,” who demonstrates his nobility through his service to causes of religion and charity, as do many amirs (18). He seems overall wonderstruck by the city and all it has to offer, making no mention of any negative experience he has while staying there.

Ibn Battutah is fascinated with the mosques and convents of Cairo, and offers a blessing after many of the names listed, such as (God’s blessing and peace upon him). Thus it can be assumed that Ibn Battutah is also Muslim, as he seems knowledgeable about the religion and writes in a similar manner to other Muslim travelers we have read. He also does not make mention of any cultural differences between Cairo and where he comes from, which implies that he comes from a similar culture—otherwise, he would likely note any differences in culture, food, or practices.However, from the sound of his writings, we know that many pilgrims travel through Cairo along their journeys, as one of the things the Sultan does is provide supplies for pilgrims without the means to supply themselves, and the convent he stays overnight at seems to be outfitted specifically to house travelers in need of shelter during their stay in the city. The Nile river is particularly unusual to him, as it runs south to north, the opposite direction of all the other great rivers, and that it floods during the dry season but diminishes when other rivers typically rise.