The White Taj - a Trilogy; or, Trip to Lenasia

---

About the third week of March, the Johannesburg Spiritual Assembly sent Sherri and I an invitation asking if we would be willing to organize a program for the First Day of Ridvan celebration. The First day of Ridvan is held annually on April 21. Ridvan is a Persian term that means “paradise” and was the name given to the garden in Baghdad where Bahá’u’lláh spent 12 days in 1863 preparing for his departure to Constantinople. It was during those 12 days that Bahá’u’lláh revealed to his followers that he was a Manifestation of God and that He was the Promised One of God for this time. During that time, He also said farewell to all of His followers and taught them the principles that would distinguish the Bahá’í­ Faith from what had been, until that time, the Babi Faith. Bahá’í­s throughout the world celebrate Ridvan, particularly the first day, in which He gave His revelation, the ninth day in which His family joined Him in the garden and the twelfth day, which marked His departure. We accepted the Assembly’s invitation, and the resulting experiences are the subject of this blog.

I had recently read Mary Perkins book “Day of Glory,” about the life of Bahá’u’lláh, and I believed that the text related to the First Day of Ridvan would serve as an excellent foundation around which to formulate a program. Sherri also suggested that a portion of Shoghi Effendi’s “God Passes By” be used as a part of the program’s conclusion. As I typed out the portion of Perkins’ narrative, I realized that the story needed to be personalized in a way that would involve several readers, or better still, actors. This would serve to break up the narrative and would permit me to do some modest scripting. As the program coalesced in my head, I realized that there would be a fundamental problem with this program; Bahá’í­s do not depict the personages of either the Bab or Bahá’u’lláh in any acted or pictorial representation. The solution came to me from Perkins’ narrative, in which she described Bahá’u’lláh as wearing a tall white Persian hat, called a taj, for the first time as He emerged from His home to depart for the Garden of Ridvan. I would represent Bahá’u’lláh with a white taj and have the actors address the taj as if they were speaking to or with Bahá’u’lláh. My problem would now be to find the eight actors for the small parts I had written and three narrators, finding a recording of the Muslim noon-day call to prayer, which was also part of Perkin’s narrative, a supply of roses, which was an important element in the Effendi history, and a white taj.

During the next couple of weeks I busied myself with finding actors and narrators, one for Perkins’ text and two, a male and a female, to read Bahá’u’lláh’s Tablet of Ridvan, and the white taj. It was during this time that Sherri and I attended the Rand Show, a combination state fair and home show that has a 170-year history in South Africa. At the Rand Show we discovered the trade pavilion that was full of booths containing businesses that imported goods from the Middle East and other parts of Africa. Attending on a Sunday, we found that the pavilion was packed with people, and it was almost impossible to move in the aisles, much less talk to vendors. I realized, however, that we might be able to costume the actors and find the white taz here.

A couple of days later I returned to the Rand Show on a weekday and found that I was able to speak with many of the vendors at length. The few vendors that I spoke with did not have any tajs, but they all suggested that I visit some of the businesses in the Oriental Plaza in downtown Johannesburg. I did, however purchase an abaya, the traditional Muslim dress with scarf for Sherri, a thobe, the traditional long men’s shirt for me, and a beautifully embroidered drape that I intended to place over a cushion upon which I would place the taj.

A couple of days later, I found my way into downtown Jo’burg on my way to the Oriental Plaza. The Oriental Plaza is a market that sits in the center of the city’s Muslim community, covering two city blocks and adjoined by a mosque. As I drove through the central business district I passed a corner shop with a sign that said Johannesburg Hat Shop, and I immediately began looking for a place to park. I went into the shop and found a white-haired South Asian gentleman waiting on several African women. The shop was full of a dazzling array of women’s hats. As the ladies tried on different headwear, the shopkeeper asked me if he could help me, I responded by saying “So, this is the place where all of the beautiful women in Johannesburg come for their hats.” The clerk smiled and the ladies trying on hats paused for a moment and turned towards me and gave me big smiles. I then asked the clerk if he carried men’s hats and told him about my search for a white taj. He informed me that his shop did not carry men’s hats and that I really needed to visit Lenasia. When I asked what and where Lenasia was, he informed me that it is a Muslim community about 40 kilometers southwest of Johannesburg, and I would be able to find what I was looking for there. He also drew me an excellent map, which impressed me, as the people of South Africa are seldom able to offer good directions. I thanked him and continued on to the Oriental Market.

As I found my way through unfamiliar streets I came to a red robot (stop light) and paused to get my bearings. As I looked for streets signs, I noticed a large sign on the roof of a building ahead of me that read Hat Factory. This was becoming my lucky day! As the light changed, I pulled ahead and parked in front of the building. The security guard opened the entrance gate and there I found racks full of every imaginable man’s hat. As I searched for a clerk, I asked the security guard if there was somebody who could assist me. He responded by asking, “What is it you are looking for?” I told him I was looking for a white taj, which was similar to a Turkish fez. He immediately took me to a rack that contained dark red and black fezs and I realized that the guard was also the store clerk. He indicated that he had nothing in white, however. Thinking that I could paint the fez if I needed to, I purchased one. I then asked if he knew where I could find a taj and he also suggested that I try the Oriental Market. I told him that would be my next stop and thanked him.

As I found my way closer to the Oriental Market, I noticed more men with beards wearing caps and women with headscarves that denote the Muslim population of South Africa. As I entered the parking lot on the west side of the Oriental Market, there was a young man sitting on the curb of a vacant area of the parking lot; he was wearing a beautifully embroidered white taj. I parked and approached him as politely as I could and he responded with a broad smile that immediately put me at ease as he invited me to sit with him. He was wearing the long shirt-like grey thobe that is often worn by Muslim men and had a small cage that contained two canaries. I told him that I had noticed his handsome taj and that I was in search of one to purchase. He removed his taj and gave it to me to examine. He told me that his taj had been made in Singapore and that a lot of Muslim clothing was being made there now. I asked him if he would consider selling it to me; he smiled and told me that it had been a gift and that he couldn’t sell it. He did, however, tell me that I could find ones like it in Lenasia at a shop called Muslim Sound and Vision. I told him that somebody else had suggested that I go to Lenasia earlier. We sat and talked for a while about the weather and the fact that he was waiting for a ride. I asked if I could assist him and he indicated that a friend was picking him up and thanked me. We also talked about his canaries; they were males, and he had just purchased them to breed with two females he already had at home. During the short time we talked, I felt a positive joy and warmth from him that I had never experienced before from any Muslim I had ever met. It left me with a good feeling as we said good-by to each other and wished each other a good day. I departed to my car intent on examining the map to find Lenasia. As I departed, I regretted the fact that I had never asked his name or offered mine to him, an error that I promised myself I would not commit again. Nevertheless, I felt as though I had made a friend.

After examining the map and the directions from the shopkeeper, I departed immediately for Lenasia without visiting any of the shops in the Oriental Market. The route was an easy one; simply take the N1 south to the N12 and follow it west to one of the two exits for Lenasia. Upon arriving in Lenasia, I found that the community was surrounded by an outer road that circled the community; one would take one of the spoke-like streets that went from the perimeter into the business center of the community. There was a good-sized parking area that was surrounded by several clothing stores. As I parked, it was apparent that I would be unable to blend into this community in any way. There were Africans present that were not Muslim but everyone else was attired in varying degrees of Muslim dress. Later I would learn that Lenasia was a community of about 60,000 people, half African and half Muslim. The community has over 30 mosques.

After discovering a parking lot that was surrounded by clothing stores, I parked and walked into a store called Ameera’s Fashions. Every eye in the shop turned to examine me as I entered. Almost immediately I found several large tables with men’s hats, which I explored with diligence. After finding several hats that almost fit me, an older woman came up to me and asked if she could be of assistance. I asked her if she had any of the more headwear in larger sizes. Apparently my European head size is considerably larger than the average Middle Eastern head. She assisted me and I asked her if the shop happened to have any tajs. She indicated that they did not, but suggested that I visit Muslim Sound and Vision not much further on the same road. As I looked through the shop I found several abaya that I thought Sherri would like and that could be used for costuming the Ridvan celebration. When I asked to see one of the dresses, the lady waiting on me asked if I was a Muslim, to which I indicated I was not, without telling her any more. Later I learned that her name was Fatima. As she showed me several dresses and answered my questions about size, she asked me her own series of questions - where was I from, and what was I doing in South Africa? She also asked me why my wife was not with me, to which I indicated that she was working. I was then asked what my wife did and responded by saying that she is a civil engineer. Fatima’s reaction drew a look of, what I read to be a combination of surprise and admiration. She then asked me why I wanted Muslim clothing, at which I paused to examine my response before speaking. I told her it would be used in a celebration program. My caution in not saying that I was a Bahá’í­ came from the fact that in many parts of the world Muslims regard Bahá’í­s as apostates and believe it is reasonable to persecute them. An American friend of ours, who also lives in South Africa, had once told a Muslim auto mechanic that he was a Bahá’í­ and was refused service and spit on for doing so. I certainly did not want anything like that to happen. In response to Fatima’s questions, I began to ask her questions and learned that she worked there with her brother and that her husband lived in England and that she had not seen him in three years. She indicated that she missed him very much. After purchasing several men’s hats and another abaya for Sherri, the men behind the cash register gave me several pieces of Turkish candy and I left with a good feeling.

Slightly further down the road I found Muslim Sound and Vision. Upon entering the store I wished that I had brought my camera, for standing at the doorway was an African security guard wearing a cap that said “Jesus is the Way” on the front of it. As I looked about the store a Muslim and an African storekeeper greeted me. Later I would learn that the Muslin gentleman’s name was Hassanbhai (Hassan) and the African’s man’s name was McDonald. I told them I was looking for a recording of the noonday call to prayer and a white taj. As they showed me around the store, I found many more men’s hats and other clothing and a large variety of Muslim recordings that included instructions on Islam, music, chants and sermons. Hassan showed me several recordings that had a wide variety of Muslin material on them. However, they were expensive and I insisted that I was only looking for the call to prayer. With this Hassan said he would make something for me and told me there was a recording studio upstairs, and invited me to see the facility. As I stayed to look for other things, McDonald helped me find a kurtha, which is also a long robe-like shirt which has a hood attached. What was most important, however, is they had a white embroidered taj. Moments later Hassan returned with a recording he had made for me. It was the noonday call to pray as chanted from the three great mosques in the Muslim world, Mecca, Medina and Jerusalem. It would be perfect for what I needed, and when I asked him how much it cost, he charged me a modest R40. Everyone in the shop had been very kind and quite welcoming. As I left the store, Hassan gave me several beautifully printed copies of the Last Sermon of Muhammad, which were printed in English.

As I drove back to Johannesburg, I felt good about the wonderful encounters I had had with Muslims, no small task considering the differences that had arisen between the Muslim and non-Muslim world since 9/11. I felt as though I had spent one of the most enjoyable days I had in a long time. Later that day I realized that I needed to write down my experiences and share them with others through our blog. What I regretted not doing was bringing my camera along to visually document my experiences. I knew that I would not be able to find the young man I had met in the Oriental Market but I could revisit the sites and people of Lenasia. With this in mind, I would return to Lenasia several days later, this time with a camera. I also had good reason, as the abaya I had purchased for Sherri was much too big for her and would need to be exchanged. She liked the dress but was concerned that I imagined her to be so large - ah, another lesson learned.

---

Comments

[Sonja]

Beautiful story!
Thank you for your wonderful accounting of your search for the white taj. I could picture it in my mind from your good descriptions, and I felt as if I were traveling with you on your special day. Your story inspires me to do more than the 'usual' for our next Baha'i holy day commemoration. Thanks for such an uplifting story!