The Tentmakers of Cairo

Egypt's Medieval and Modern Appliqué Craft

Seif El Rashidi, Sam Bowker

• Publisher: The American University in Cairo Press
• Year: 2018
• Print ISBN: 9789774168024
• eBook ISBN: 9781617979026
• Topic: Art
• Subtopic: Art General

"An expansive and captivating history of an often overlooked traditional art"—Egyptian Streets

In the crowded center of Historic Cairo lies a covered market lined with wonderful textiles sewn by hand in brilliant colors and intricate patterns. This is the Street of the Tentmakers, the home of the Egyptian appliqué art known as khayamiya.

The Tentmakers of Cairo brings together the stories of the tentmakers and their extraordinary tents—from the huge tent pavilions, or suradeq, of the streets of Egypt, to the souvenirs of the First World War and textile artworks celebrated by quilters around the world. It traces the origins and aesthetics of the khayamiya textiles that enlivened the ceremonial tents of the Fatimid, Mamluk, and Ottoman dynasties, exploring the ways in which they challenged conventions under new patrons and technologies, inspired the paper cut-outs of Henri Matisse, and continue to preserve a legacy of skilled handcraft in an age of relentless mass production.

Drawing on historical literature, interviews with tentmakers, and analysis of khayamiya from around the world, the authors reveal the stories of this unique and spectacular Egyptian textile art.

1

Early Cairene Tents

The Fatimids and Ayyubids

Fatimid Tents

For a sense of the importance of the ceremonial tent in medieval Cairo, the account of the fourteenth-century chronicler al-Maqrizi describing the storerooms of the great Fatimid palace cannot be bettered. The scene al-Maqrizi narrates is from an older text, capturing a time in the late eleventh century during famine, rebellions, and dire financial circumstances, when the “rogues’ demands were increasing”¹ and the Fatimid state was forced to act. In order to placate the rebels and save the state, the palace storerooms were emptied and their contents sold off. We discover that the storerooms were extensive and thematically arranged: there was one for books, another for garments, one for jewels and “wonders.” There were storerooms for furniture, weapons, saddlery, sugared drinks, spices, and of course, one for tents. The storerooms were kept in good order, for their contents were all highly prized items, under the care of custodians and subject to visits by the Fatimid caliph himself.

The description of the tent storeroom is attributed to a certain Abu al-Hassan al-Khayamy, meaning ‘the tentmaker,’ a man evidently knowledgeable about what must have been the best tents in Egypt at the time. Abu al-Hassan’s heart must have skipped a beat as he undertook the exciting but probably also heart-wrenching task of emptying the storeroom of its contents and divvying the tents up.

From the palace storeroom we brought out an immeasurable number of the walls of tents, and posts, and vases, and panels, and sections, and fortresses and palaces and awnings; and tents made of dabiqi [linen], and velvet, and royal silk, and Armenian and Bahnasi and Cordoban fabric, and quality Aleppine of all colours and types. And also of sondos [a green silk believed by Muslims to be worn by the pious in heaven], some of which have elephants, and some with leopards, and horses, and peacocks, and birds. And others have wild beasts and people of many types, and beautiful images. Some of them are plain, and others are patterned, and lined with wondrous designs. And the posts of these tents are covered with silver pipes. There are gold-threaded textiles, and textiles without gold of all types and colours. There are ropes covered with silk and others with cotton. There are skeins of Chinese silk, and tastari [heavy silk], and flattened silk, and feathered silk and other types of silks of all colours large and small.²

The “palaces” and “fortresses” found in the tent storeroom described above are a reminder that these tents were effectively ‘portable’ court architecture made of wood and fabric. At its most elaborate, the royal tent structure was an encampment rather than one simple tent space as such, and in accounts elsewhere, both by al-Maqrizi and other chroniclers, descriptions of people moving from one tent space to another confirm this. What was in the storerooms was clearly a wealth of expensive, lavishly-decorated tent parts—the trappings of an entire royal tent world—used to provide the ruler with a befitting setting whenever he needed a temporary base outside one of his ‘built’ palaces.

The tents were part of the royal insignia of the Fatimid court, along with a wide range of items, some of them textiles or textile-related, including the caliph’s parasol, his turban, and the solitaire that topped the royal turban, al-Yatima—the unique. The importance of the caliph’s textile world in royal ceremonies is perhaps captured best in the simple fact that the royal parasol, actually a horse-mounted canopy, always matched what the caliph was wearing. It was part of who he was and part of his aura, and an object usually not even afforded to his own son. By the late twelfth century, the caliph’s public appearances were accompanied by quite a range of textiles: not just tents and canopies, but banners and standards, which were as important as his symbols of physical power like his sword, lance, and shield.³ It is in this context that the Fatimid royal tents must be seen.

There appear to have been two main types of tents in the royal storeroom. The first type was known as a fustat, which was essentially a round, pointed structure, in its simplest form a bit like a tepee. Many of the royal fustats must have been quite elaborate, and consisted of several round tent spaces adjacent to one another. The second type was a more modular rectilinear structure, more like today’s marquees, which existed in several different forms, and while it is hard to determine exactly what they looked like, it is possible to formulate some kind of idea of how they differed from the fustat type.

There was a flat type (al-mustatih), one example of which was described as being a square ‘abode’ supported by six columns. Four of the columns supported the interior of the tent, while the remaining two were used to support the entrance awning. Another version seems to have been of the same design only smaller, with only two interior columns rather than four. The advantage of this type of tent, as opposed to the fustat, was that because it was rectilinear, it was also modular, and thus could be extended easily as required. As al-Maqrizi reminds us, the larger the tent, the greater the number of columns.

Capturing the breeze and the light was another concern, and the description of the square tents in the royal storeroom mentions their great flexibility and that an awning could be created on any side of the tent. In fact, the side chosen depended on the direction of the sun: as it moved over the course of the day, the open side of the tent would be altered, too. In some cases, a back flap existed to create a flow of air through the tent. From these basic shapes, a whole array of tent forms could be created, many of them elaborate turreted structures not unlike today’s Disney castles.

As the tents in the royal storeroom were a major part of the royal paraphernalia, in many cases, their provenance, their patrons, their history, and their peculiarities were well known. Like the palaces and mosques of medieval Cairo, the tents too had their stories.

Al-Yazuri’s Tent: A Story of Patience and Opulence

Abu al-Hassan the tentman recounts removing a huge tent from the storeroom, whose size and shape earned it the rather unimaginative name of ‘the large round one.’ It is reported to have been 500 cubits⁴ in circumference with an appropriately tall central pole 65 cubits high, 6.3 cubits in diameter, and 20 in circumference. It must have been a two-tiered tent, as Abu al-Hassan records a ‘wind-catcher’ 30 cubits long on top. This probably would have been a perforated superstructure through which hot air would rise up through the tent, helping to ensure that it would remain cool. The architecture of Cairo masterfully evolved to deal effectively with the challenges of a hot climate, and it is perfectly logical that in this respect too, the tents reflected the engineering technology of their more solid counterparts. The typical Cairene house of families that could afford it would include a large reception room, the qa‘a, where the central area, often with a fountain, had a raised ceiling with openings close to the top to allow for the escape of warm air.

As with all large tents, ‘the large round one’ was made up of sections, in this case sixty-four of them, which were tied together with cords. These sections may have had textile panels with wooden posts sewn into them, not unlike a modern partition dividing a room. Moving such a large tent would have been a monumental undertaking, and Abu al-Hassan tells us that this one required 100 camels to transport, ropes and all, from one place to another. Unsurprisingly, this tent, like most of the others in the palace storeroom, was lavishly decorated. It had a beautiful arcaded design and a border supposedly depicting every animal on earth. A giant silver basin for water, apparently dispensed via three iron spouts, was one of the tent’s accoutrements. There is little doubt that the basin would have served to cool the tent, creating an atmosphere of freshness.⁵

Al-Yazuri

The patron of the large round tent was the Palestinian-born al-Yazuri, who rose in the ranks to great prominence in the Fatimid court, becoming both vizier and grand judge. Like others who saw stardom in medieval times, his ascent was interwoven with the stuff of legend. It is said that as a young man en route to Egypt, he went on pilgrimage to the holy shrines in Arabia and on visiting the shrine of the Prophet Muhammad in Medina, fell asleep in the sacred chamber. While he slept, some of the saffron which infused the walls fell upon him, and when a few of the attendants of the shrine noticed the sleeper and saw what had happened, they woke him up to tell him the news: “This is a great omen,” they exclaimed, “you will be blessed with a career of great prosperity.”⁶ For the most part, they were right, as al-Yazuri’s career really took off in Cairo. He began in the 1040s in the service of the caliph’s mother, Sayyida Rasad. Rasad effectively controlled the reins of power as her son, al-Mustansir, was only a boy when he came to the throne. Predictably, al-Yazuri’s rapid ascent earned him some enemies, namely the chief judge, who felt that he was rising too far above his station. Al-Yazuri pushed his luck a little too far by joining the chief judge’s entourage, who would confer every Monday in one of the wings of the royal palace.

“What do you think you are doing here?” he was told angrily by the chief judge. “This isn’t a meeting for just anyone!” The rebuff was humiliating, and al-Yazuri left the meeting as fast as his legs could carry him. He waited by the palace gate, following the coterie of court notables as they left the palace after the meeting. Perhaps optimistically, he then followed the chief judge home in the hope that he could appease him for the awkward incident. But al-Yazuri was ignored. Heavy-hearted, he returned home to find that thirty loads of apples from his orchards in Palestine had arrived for sale in the Egyptian market. Rather than sell them, he decided to divide the apples up, sending five camel-loads to the chief judge and each of the key members of his entourage, and two camel-loads for his guards, hoping that the gift would sway the courtiers in his favor. Day by day, he loitered by the palace gate, hoping to catch a word here or there. His patience paid off though, when a courtier, Adit al-dawla, was struck by al-Yazuri’s personality and grew enamored by his conversation, always asking him to stay on longer to chat. He eventually recommended al-Yazuri to Abu Nasr, a high-ranking court official, setting him on the path of his illustrious career.⁷

Al-Yazuri’s patience extended to the commissioning of his tent as well. It is supposed to have taken 150 workmen nine years to manufacture, and even if this account is slightly exaggerated, it gives an indication of the tent’s opulence and scale. It cost him 30,000 dinars to make when it was produced in the mid-eleventh century. Al-Yazuri was clearly somebody who wanted to create eye-catching architecture, whether temporary or permanent. For the decoration of one of his palaces, he is reported to have hired two outstanding trompe l’oeil artists, one of whom boasted that he could paint a figure so realistic that it looked as if it were walking into the wall, while the other said he could paint a figure so realistic it looked as if it were walking out of it. Al-Yazuri put them both ...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Title Page
• Copyright
• Dedication
• Contents
• Preface
• Acknowledgments
• A Note on Spelling
• 1. Early Cairene Tents: The Fatimids and Ayyubids
• 2. Tents during the Mamluk Period
• 3. Tents in Ottoman Cairo
• 4. Egyptian Tents in the Nineteenth Century
• 5. The Khedival Period
• 6. From Suradiq to Souvenir: Tentmakers and Tourists
• 7. Modern Khayamiya: Stage and Ceremony
• 8. The Farrashin
• 9. Khayamiya and Art
• 10. Making Khayamiya: Design and Technique
• 11. Voices from the Street of the Tentmakers
• Conclusion
• Notes
• Bibliography