Lots of villagers and country cousins are on family outings, husbands and wives, mothers and daughters, grandchildren, grandmothers all together. One often comes across Cairenes who have come to spend the day either for business or for devotions: the one never excludes the other.
One single gigantic building houses the mausoleum itself and the Great Mosque with its beautiful prayer hall. The three main rooms of the mausoleum hold several tombs. In the center of each room stands a rectangular cenotaph surrounded by an enclosing wall, or maqsura in Arabic, generally made of wood. The cenotaph is a sort of coffin of wood or masonry set above the spot where the saint is supposedly buried (though this is not necessarily the case) and covered by a green satin drape known as a kiswa. There is a principal tomb in each chamber: those of ‘Abd al-‘Al and al-Mujahid flank the central tomb of Badawi. ‘Abd al-‘Al (d. 1333) and Sheikh al-Mujahid (d. after 1780) were two great sheikhs of the Sufi brotherhood who continued the legacy of the founding saint as embodied by the Ahmadiya. The cenotaphs of other saints, disciples and successors of Badawi, are tucked into the corners of the rooms: the most recent dates to 1978. The pilgrims walk counterclockwise around the claustra murmuring a prayer, sometimes the opening verses of the Qur’an, the Fatiha, or perhaps something more personal. Huge padlocked boxes by the railing are there to receive offerings of money for the baraka. In the central chamber of the mausoleum Sayyid al-Badawi himself naturally enjoys the best spot of all: an enormous dome around which the cries and murmurs reverberate, and a massive cenotaph almost 2 meters high by 2.5 meters long and 2.2 meters wide. A turban and some huge Qur’ans lie on top of the cenotaph, while around it the superb brass maqsura has been polished by countless caresses since it was first forged in the Ottoman era. This railing and a glass pane keep the faithful at a distance from the cenotaph, which is washed in white and green neon light, but each and every visitor grasps the barrier, trying to get as close as possible to the saintly presence. The ardor of silent prayers is equal to the cries and calls of other more vociferous pilgrims, some of whom harangue the saint passionately. A respectable sheikh reads the Qur’an and recites Sufi prayers amid his disciples in a corner of the tomb next to the mihrab, which indicates the direction of Mecca. A woman completely dressed and veiled in white, with her eyes outlined in kohl, hands out cups of water to those who pass by: she dedicates her actions to the saint. A dwarf rolls on the floor next to the maqsura. A man carefully rubs the locks of the railing and then slips his hand into his pocket: the baraka from this contact will increase his virility. A woman removes her headscarf and wipes it energetically over the railings, loading it with baraka to take back home. Suddenly, someone throws a fistful of sweets on the mausoleum assistants and someone else thrusts a few pennies in their hands. This also will procure baraka.
In a corner of the saint’s tomb chamber there is a black stone bearing the imprint of giant feet. They are the feet of the Prophet, for whom the stone suddenly became soft. The footprints of the Messenger are just as venerated as the tomb and on busy days it can be difficult to get close to them. Guards armed with canes try to keep the mass of visitors flowing through, but they hold on and resist. Newlywed couples try to have their photograph taken in front of the holy footprints, though this has been forbidden for some time. Other pilgrims sit down near the tomb in order to savor in silence the incredible atmosphere of the mausoleum. Sometimes, depending on numbers, it can be like a rugby scrum and sharp elbow work is necessary to see the cenotaph. The physical press of the crowd is almost unbearable. Foreheads are bathed in sweat. Babies are brandished in outstretched arms to show them the tomb. Strident ululations fly through the air. At other, calmer moments, one can hear again the discreet chanting of a sheikh, the sobs of a woman entranced, the questions of a child. The visitors look haggard as they exit, and outside the mosque they are assailed by beggars and vendors: lucky charms for babies, pious booklets for the Sufis, incense for all. Further on, there are shops where the pilgrims might buy some chickpeas or halawa, perhaps a plastic toy for the children. One cannot visit Tanta and its patron saint without taking a little something home.
The mulid officially begins on Friday 11 October 2002, with an opening procession. Great colorful tents are pitched all over the old center of the town around the mosque of Badawi, where one can buy chickpeas, the speciality of Delta mulids, or sweaters for the approaching winter, or trinkets and toys. A loud thumping noise attracts attention as a strapping young lad perched upon a huge caparisoned camel beats incessantly upon a pair of drums. A detachment of good-natured soldiers, seemingly unconcerned with discipline, accompanies a small military brass band, which entertains the passers-by, as they wait in front of the house of the khalifa, the successor of Badawi as leader of the brotherhood. This title has for long been more honorific than real, since the Ahmadiya has split up into numerous independent branches. Nonetheless, the role is still a paid position, even if the khalifa receives only a tiny part of the enormous revenue that comes from the tomb and that was once his due. In fact, there are two khalifas, members of rival families. One is a pediatrician and the other a doctor of religious studies; one is very fat, the other of average build. They take turns each year, at the beginning and at the end of the mulid. This year is the turn of the slimmer of the two. He leaves his house wearing a white turban and visits first the nearby tomb of Sidi Salim al-Maghribi. Legend says that this saint preceded Badawi in Tanta, where he announced the latter’s coming and then, on his arrival, bowed down before the true master. Badawi granted him the status of secondary saint, which allowed him to lie in the shadow of his magisterial presence. Thus, the khalifa retraces the steps of Sayyid al-Badawi, and his route restates the blessed history of the town.
The khalifa then enters the Great Mosque of Sayyid al-Badawi on foot. He quickly comes back out again, his head enveloped in white cloth. He is wearing the precious turban of Badawi, a symbol of the spiritual heritage bequeathed to his disciples and his brotherhood, the Ahmadiya. This turban is extraordinarily large and is usually kept under lock and key, away from the crowds, in the reliquary room of the mosque. There are no direct relics, no bones or anything like that. The cult of saints in Islam never exhibits the body of the deceased: only the cenotaph is venerated as a sign of the presence of the saint, since he is ever-present despite his absence, dead but always alive. Occasionally, however, indirect relics are valued, and in the room in question four magnificent silver reliquaries contain personal possessions of the saint: his nine-meter long string of prayer beads, the old chipped cudgel he used to bring back Muslim captives from the land of the Franks, two wooden combs, his red winter cloak, his lightweight cloak, and of course his famous turban sitting upon a silver stand. A century ago the reliquary itself was marched around under a canopy, but now it stays out of sight. When the khalifa comes out of the mosque he mounts a horse with the help of his disciples. A crowd of young Sufis wearing red sashes across their shoulders gathers around him, repeating the name of God—Allah!—while old venerable sheikhs representing the main branches of the Ahmadiya walk alongside. The military escort on foot and horseback follows in merry disorder, with the camel and its lively rider growing ever more uproarious. The procession rollicks along under hails of sweets, howls and cries to the al-Bahiyy mosque. Although completely rebuilt in the 1960s, this was the first mosque of Tanta, then known as al-Busa. It is said that Badawi entered this mosque when he first came from Iraq to end his days in Tanta, and the story goes that he even revived a dead person here. This is why the khalifa comes to this mosque to perform the Friday prayer, thus retracing the same path as the saint seven and a half centuries later. The mosque is also the resting place of a nineteenth-century saint, Sheikh al-Bahiyy, who happens to be a direct ancestor of the khalifa. Three-quarters of an hour later, after prayers and sermon, the khalifa and his escort make a tour of the old town following an itinerary fixed by the governorate. This is the official beginning of the mulid.