The mullah speaks directly to the assembled worshippers referencing Abdul Qadir Gaylani, the founder of the Qadiri Order, which the Talabani Tekiye follows.
Men and boys of all ages throw themselves into the worship. Though children are cherished in this tekiye, they are explicitly encouraged not to come to the worship too young. The path of a Sufi must be consciously chosen, not indoctrination. Sheikh Yusuf, the spiritual leader has said, “When we find children here, we say, ‘Go home! Read a book!’ But they sneak in…”
Sheikha Sunbul gives a smile as she leads the woman to sit and transition between types of worship. Two women help another who has become wrapped up in her worship to find her place sitting. The throes of ecstasy remain with her even as she sits. The murmured prayers all in Arabic, the casual chatting is in Kurdish.
The prayer for individual sheikhs continues. The female mullah is seen here in tight focus, moving her hands through the prayer. Several women, including the Sheikha, seem to be whispering or mouthing the words along with the mullah as well as giving the traditional response to the call.
The air conditioning ruffles the edges of her scarf as Sheikha Sunbul Umjunayd leads and participates in the prayer. This viewpoint is from inside the circle of worshipping women who spin around the Sheikha and other worshippers who are in an ecstatic mode. The prayer acknowledges the call from Baghdad, where Sheikh Abdul Qadir Gaylani founded the Qadiri Order, and where the mosque he founded remains in operation today. As well, as the women reach a subconscious or transcendent state, they often forsake the common prayer for exclamations, often, “Allah! Allah!”
The Sheikha is a Turcoman, fluent in Turcoman, Arabic, Kurdish, and English. Her husband, Sheikh Yusuf Talabani, married her though she did not come from a Sheikh family. Given social and religious pressures, this indicates a personal understanding and choice of the Sheikha’s gifts, which are many. During this particular visit to the tekiye, the Sheikh was away, receiving treatment in Germany for a grave illness. The Sheikha stayed to support their community, to carry on the work of worship, but her concern for her husband made speech, at one point, difficult.
While jumping is more rare in this tekiye than swaying, bowing, head-banging or whirling, it occurs. Mostly as the worship reaches its spiritual peaks, men begin to throw themselves into the motions, letting their heads loll side-to-side, letting their bodies leave the ground.
The hemlines of the women in this video indicate two things: (1) the women of this tekiye span generations (2) this tekiye accepts and welcomes dress that is not always traditional. The jeans we see a young woman wearing here are not usually seen in places of religious devotion.
The woman draped in green has stood, we see her back as we watch the other women begin to dissolve the circular motion they have made together. The pace begins to wind down, the motion begins to soften. The chant continues, “There is no god but God.”
A woman, seen over her shoulder, keeps the pace intensifying with the daff. Traditionally, the daff is made with a wooden frame and animal skin stretched across it. This daff has a plastic “skin” that has become translucent in places over the years it has served worshippers, both men and women.
The prayer for individual sheikhs continues, naming Sheikh Abdulrahman, an important leader in the history of the Talabani Tekiye and the Qadiri Order. A young woman learns how to move through the prayers, her mother beside her, demonstrating.
One daff, with transparent plastic where traditionally a stretched animal skin would be, allows the viewer to see the singers and other prayer-leaders through the instrument itself. Below the daff is the prayer notebook, open.
From this angle, both forms of percussion are obvious: the tapl and daff. Three men play the daff while one stands at the tapl. The daff makes sound as the fingers hit the taut skin, but also as it is dropped. The chain links that line the inside of the frame brush against the frame and skin creating their own sound.
Two men, who moved away from the wall just moments ago, hand in hand, unfurl their hair from their caps and begin to bow and head-bang to a chorus of “Allah! Allah!” or “God! God!” One of the men has a telltale mark on his forehead, what is known as a “zabib,” or “raisin,” in Arabic: a raised bruise on his forehead from praying and prostrating vigorously.
Seated, the woman has given herself over to the motion, her scarf has come untied and her hair swings loose as she continues to move, lost in the prayer. The women around her continue to pray, “There is no god but God,” circling beside her, keeping time with the daff and tapl.
As the women worship, some sing, some have instruments in their hands, others sway gently, some clap as a form of movement and participation. Throughout the worship, the Sheikha sits at the center, listening, greeting everyone, and occasionally adding her voice.
Again, the pace of the worship changes. At times, it is slow and most participants simply sway. At others, like in this moment, the drums intensify and the worshippers respond, physically intensifying their own movements. The idea is that certain motion, certain repetition can enable man to atone with the divine.
Though the women’s room for worship is a simple long rectangle with no alcove for the daff and tapl players, the percussionists tend to congregate at the far side of the worship circle. The tapl is played sitting down, the drum braced against some cushions. The daff can be played standing or sitting as the worshipper desires. While the speech is not entirely clear, the language shifts from Kurdish to Arabic.
Two men, who moved away from the wall just moments ago, hand in hand, unfurl their hair from their caps and begin to bow and head-bang to a chorus of “Allah! Allah!” or “God! God!” One of the men has a telltale mark on his forehead, what is known as a “zabib,” or “raisin,” in Arabic: a raised bruise on his forehead from praying and prostrating vigorously.
Different singers take the lead at different times. Here, the woman playing the tapl begins to lead a prayer. The Sheikha drinks from the juice distributed as part of the mawlood, a special celebration in honor of the Prophet that can be called at various time throughout the year.
The Sheikha moves from calling on God to the sung prayers. The daff and tapl begin to sound. The song here differs from that in the male worship: it is communally sung, not individually. All women sing; they share the song.
In addition to swaying, bending, and head-banging, worshippers often whirl, as in Turkish and other traditional depictions of Sufis lost in prayer. Here, we see many different kinds of worship in one frame.
At this distance, it’s easy to see the repair work that has been done on the daff with tape, the turquoise prayer beads strung around one woman’s wrist, the clear rhythm the tapl player provides as she sings and how she balances the tapl against cushions. The woman sings, “The children of the Prophet, my life, and my religion.”
The men begin to line up for prayers. Some men gesture for another to join them, making space for him between them. The mullah emphasizes, “We should believe in no god except God and Muhammad as his prophet.”
Cushions and fabric balance the tapl. The skin of the tapl is actually a little punctured, but still it booms with each tap of the sticks. This prayer describes a beauty dressed in various types of Kurdish clothes.
A man with his white beard listens with others to the sheikh. In deference to Kirkuk’s diversity, the language of the sermon is in Arabic. In other Kurdish-held cities such as Sulaimani or Erbil, the sermons would likely be in Kurdish. The mullah ends the sermon by affirming that there is no god to be worshipped except God and that Muhammed is the final prophet.
The tapl, braced only against some cushions, not secured in the wooden frame the men have, needs periodic readjustment by the player. She braces it, at times, with one stick, while striking it with the other.
In addition to swaying, bending, and head-banging, worshippers often whirl, as in Turkish and other traditional depictions of Sufis lost in prayer. Here, we see many different kinds of worship in one frame. Each man speaks only one word, “Live.”
The angle of this clip shows the walls of the women’s room of worship. Marble tiling up to knee-height, the walls are largely painted white and the windows are draped in red and gold velvet.
As the gathering moves into its final phases, the men exchange greetings, kisses, moving away from the walls toward the alcove with the daff and tapl players.
In addition to swaying, bending, and head-banging, worshippers often whirl, as in Turkish and other traditional depictions of Sufis lost in prayer. Here, we see many different kinds of worship in one frame.
From the perspective of the inner circle of men, focused on the mullah singing, we see the early phases of the worship: swaying and the emphatic exhale.
The prayers become led by a female mullah, of which the tekiye has three. The prayer becomes more a call and response as the mullah prays for individuals (the founder of the Order, Sheikh Abdul-QadirGaylani, for example) and the congregated women respond by, once more lifting their voices up to God.
The female mullah holds in one hand turquoise prayer beads and in another a tissue. Her hands move with her words, opened palm upward: a habitual gesture Muslims make when praying or petitioning God. She names Sheikh Mohammed Jamil Khalisi.
From this angle, it’s very easy to see the chain links inside the daff and how the rising and falling motion of the drum activates that part of its sound.
One woman leads this prayer, again from the handwritten prayers gathered in the notebook. The handwriting is quite clear in these frames. The prayer goes, “In this era, there is no other beauty…”
Three men stand in the alcove of the room for worship. They introduce the sound and rhythm of both the daff and the tapl to the devotion. To the side, stands the Sheikh, a son of Sheikh Yusuf, who normally offers spiritual leadership and direction to the tekiye. He is absent on this day to seek treatment in Germany for a threatening condition.
A close look at the daff reveals the many chain links inside the frame or rim of the instrument that give it a brushing or swishing sound as well as the quick, struck sound of fingers on taut skin.
Inside the tekiye, people sit and listen to the sermon. In the background is the mullah’s voice. He speaks of examples to help people live better and think differently than their context.
The women are now seated. The women playing daff and tapl cluster around the Sheikha, seated not on the ground, but on a chair, while the worshippers assemble themselves roughly around. This begins a different phase of worship in which the woman voice prayers together, seated. The women chant, “Jamil, oh, Jamil,” which is a man’s name, but can also mean “beautiful,” a name for God.
Over the course of the worship, each individual moves through whichever physical form of worship calls to him. Some keep their hair covered, some unleash it. Some begin by swaying and move into bowing or whirling. Some begin in whirling and move to bowing. It is a fluid and individuated practice.
As the juice is handed out, the women playing daff and tapl take miniature breaks to accept the drinks. The singer, though, does not stop. Other women accept the juice for her and place it near her for when there is the right moment in the worship.
At times, the recitation or prayer or song is punctuated by ecstatic eruptions from the worshippers. Here, we see bowing and whirling men erupting into wordless exclamations.
The woman, draped in her green and gold cloth, sits swaying in her chair as the women beside her circle and call out in prayer. The camera’s view this time shows a bit more of the women who are singing and moving through the prayers, the praise for the sheikhs of the Order, as a group.
The prayer leaders help to lead the worship to its close by naming the well water of the tekiye the water of life, a water specific to Heaven and Mecca.
One woman leads this prayer, again from the handwritten prayers gathered in the notebook. The women sit quite closely to one another as they sing and play the tapl and daff. The prayer goes, “Oh, God’s Prophet, I sacrifice myself for your eyes.”
The prayer continues around the Sheikha, whose beads can be seen dangling into the frame of the clip. The notebook is passed from singer to singer, but many know the prayers by heart and add their voices. The prayer goes, “If you wonder whether I have come for a picnic, I am ill and hopeless. I have come to the door of God’s Prophet, the door of forgiveness.”
The graves of sheikhs associated with the tekiye are inside the building, a shrine for devotees to visit. A verse from the Quran is written, Ayat al Kursi, or the Verse of the Throne, “In the name of Allah, the Beneficent, the Merciful. Allah! There is no God but He, the Living, the Self-subsisting, the Eternal. No slumber can seize Him, nor sleep. All things in heaven and earth are His. Who could intercede in His presence without His permission? He knows what appears in front of and behind His creatures. Nor can they encompass any knowledge of Him except what he wills. His throne extends over the heavens and the earth, and He feels no fatigue in guarding and preserving them, for He is the Highest and Most Exalted” (2:255).
The women move in a circle around the prayer leaders and those who have gone ecstatic in their movements. The woman draped in green continues her motions from the plastic lawn chair in the corner. Women on couches and the floor, lining the wall of the room, echo the motions and prayers of the women in the center of the room. Here, the women repeat, “There is no god but God.”
Even from a seated position, this worship can involve the entire body. The woman sitting here throws her head back and forth with such passion that the covering she has tied around her hair threatens to come loose. The refrain continues, “There is no god but God.”
As the men continue to play the daff, a worshipper begins the ecstatic practice of bending all the way forward and backward, swinging his long white hair with him. He supports himself with a cane. This practice will look familiar to any heavy metal fan; it is essentially spiritual head-banging.
The last, most physically intensive phase of the worship includes a press toward the daff and tapl players as well as more physically emotive movement: running, jumping, and more head-banging.
A little boy sits on his mother’s lap, playing with her phone as she prays. In past visits to the tekiye, this same boy crept onto his mother’s lap, between her and the daff as she continued to play.
Here, the worship again shifts. The daff and tapl continue, the communal sung prayer continues, but the women join hands and begin to step rhythmically around the room, bending and swaying as they go. They praise the Prophet and beg his grace.
