Each time, I am jostled through the crowds of men and children congested around the enormous wooden doors, to suddenly find myself over the threshold and in the shadow of some of the tallest buildings in the world. Taking a deep breath, I inhale the fine dust, mixed with the scent of spices, jasmine, and bodies that are perspiring in the 100 degree heat. As I look around, I see the plaintive faces of men and young boys for whom this scene is familiar, and then the faces of the many tourists - wondrous - at the sights, sounds and smells of "Bab al-Yemen."
Walking on the uneven cobblestone streets, I wend my way past stalls of dates, assorted nuts, spices and loose piles of ground henna; men displaying clothes for children, money changers flashing thick bundles of riyals and young boys selling dump trucks made out of tins for holding ghee.
Glancing longingly at the stalls filled with silver jewellery and accessories, I continue on the narrowing streets past stalls brightened by colorful baskets from the Tihama and even more colorful scarfs hanging low. The street then curves slightly to reveal mcuh larger stores filled with silver, advertised by signs written in English, "Queen Arwa's Silver Antiques."
In another minute or two, I reach my favorite bookseller whose bookshop, "Dar wa Maktaba al-Khair," stands right opposite the mosque. I stop and say hello to Abdullah, inquiring about his health, his business and his family. To each question he responds with an emphatic, "Alhamdolillah," and then insists that I sit and have tea. The man sitting outside his shop politely relinquishes his stool and is sent off to bring tea, while Abdullah clears aways books to make place for the stool. We chat or not, and in the comfortable silence, I sip the steaming tea quietly, glancing at the relaxed faces of the men leaning against the wall of the mosque and the piles of Qurans about to tip over. Knowing I will return soon, Abdullah is satisfied with a short visit, and with many requests for prayers, sends me off to the Great Mosque of Sanaa.
Seemingly guarded by two women sitting at the east entrance, it is not. I greet them and clutching my sandals in my hands, step over the threshold into the enormity of Jamea al-Kabir.
According to Islamic tradition, Jamea al-Kabir was the first mosque built in Yemen, and built on the instruction of the Prophet, who indicated the site of the mosque and the precise limits of the building, approximately 180 x 180ft. Nothing remains of this earliest mosque except possibly some of the arcades and a few fragments of ornament in the high ceiling. It is the ceilings which the mosques of Yemen are renowned - elaborately carved and painted wooden ceilings carried on high columns.
The mosque as it stands today owes its character to al-Walid, (705-715) the Ummayyad caliph who enlarged and rebuilt the mosque during his reign. However, in the ninth and tenth century, the mosque was again altered, due to extensive repair necessitated by serious floods which damaged the structure. In the eleventh century, al-Syedda bint Ahmed al-Sulayhi, of the Sulayhid dynasty, partially rebuilt the eastern wing, adding a magnificently carved and gilded ceiling to the new eastern wing and a slightly less splenid one to the western wing. It is possible that the second (Western) minaret was added at this time, to match the first. Both minarets were "restored" in the early thirteenth century, but do not seem to have been altered since.
The mosque is a square enclosure encircling a courtard. In the middle of the courtyard slightly off center is the Dar al-Mal or treasury, a seventeenth century Ottoman reconstruction which possibly replaced the original treasury. Various tombs and libraries were added on the side of the mosque in later periods.
The mosque consists of two separate harams, one on the north side and the south side. On the north side is the main prayer hall with five aisles; the corresponding sahn is surrounded by triple arcades on the east and west sides. The second haram, on the south side, has four aisles with a central mihrab and two side mihrabs.
As I walk the entirety of the mosque, I notice both the curious and the disdainful glances of the older men and the younger boys. My eyes seek another woman, and find none. But soon, I find a place to sit and a place for my sandals. I open the massive wooden holder upon which to rest an equally large Quran and read. No one disturbs me or even speaks to me, the only sounds are the recitations of the older men and their practicing pupils. Even the sounds of the lively city outside are inaudible.
Finally, in the tranquility and peacefulness of the mosque, I touch my forehead to the carpet and kiss it - in appreciation of the return to this beautiful city.