10 Sep |
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 Welcome, to the final resting place of Sheikh Abdurahman Matebe Shah. Surrounded by sauvignon blanc and Cape Town’s southern suburbs, it’s perhaps as unlikely a place as you could imagine for one of Cape Town’s holiest sites of Islam. But, as with so much of South Africa’s history, the story of the Islamic graves that dot the peninsula is one of racism, removals and rulers with an iron fist. “Salaam Aleikum,” says the wizened old caretaker perched on a chair outside the green-domed kramat – meaning ‘tomb of a saint’ – that sits quietly alongside the vineyards of Klein Constantia. An Islamic crescent is silhouetted against the flanks of the Constantiaberg as I take a seat on the stone wall next to Ameen Dhansay, one of the volunteer committee members of the Cape Mazaar (Kramat) Society tasked with maintaining and conserving the kramats. “These kramats are the burial sites, the tombs, for spiritual leaders who were brought to the Cape by the Dutch over two hundred years ago,” explains Dhansay. “They were captured in Malaysia and Indonesia in the late-1600s and 1700s where they were leaders and royalty. They rebelled against the Dutch colonisers and so were jailed and shipped out to the Cape where they were banished to distant corners of the peninsula. This was total isolation… it’s one of the earliest instances of forced segregation in our country.” Sheikh Shah’s tomb is one of 23 documented kramats in the Cape; concentrated in the peninsula, but spread as far afield as Caledon, Rawsonville and the Bain’s Kloof Pass. “If you look at the layout of where all of these graves are dotted on the peninsula, it actually forms a circle of saints,” says Dhansay. “We as the Muslim community take great comfort from this circle. We feel it’s a ring of protection around our home in the Cape.” Beneath shady oak trees on the borders of Klein Constantia the resting place of Sheikh Abdurahman is surely one of the most peaceful tombs of the 23, but the true history behind the kramats is best explored a short drive away at a place historically known as Islam Hill. Recently renovated, an Islamic archway leads into a manicured garden framing another domed kramat. This is the tomb of Sayed Mahmud, a spiritual leader from the Malaccan Empire. On the walls of his kramat, which was rebuilt in 1927, are four stone tablets carved in intricate English and Dutch, one of which reads: “On 24 January 1667, the ship the Polsbroek left Batavia and arrived here on 13 May 1668 with three political prisoners in chains. Malays of the West Coast of Sumatra who were banished to the Cape… They were rulers ‘Orang Cayen’, men of wealth and influence. Two were sent to the Company’s Forest, and one to Robben Island.” Of the three men on-board it was one Sayed Abduraghman Motura who had the misfortune of becoming the first prisoner to live out his days on Robben Island; a tradition that wouldn’t be stopped for centuries to come. But it was nearly thirty years before the arrival of one Sheikh Yusuf, who would become the most famous of the saints buried in kramats across the Cape peninsula. Born into a noble family in present-day Indonesia (then known as Macassar), he was banished to the Cape in 1693 after fomenting uprisings against Dutch colonisation in the East. After the long sea voyage he and 49 followers were sent to eke out a living at the mouth of the Eerste Rivier, on the sandy flats facing False Bay. This settlement became known as Macassar – a name it still holds – and gave rise to South Africa’s first cohesive Muslim community. When Sheikh Yusuf died on 23 May 1699 he was buried on a hill at nearby Faure, where his kramat is still found today. It’s one of the most-visited kramats and happily, unlike mosques, they are open to both male and female visitors of all faiths. A worthwhile guidebook compiled by the Cape Mazaar Society has well-researched background information on each kramat, as well as clear maps on how to find them. “Generally these kramats are not locked,” says Dhansay. “We try and keep them open day and night for people to visit, and for people to be able to come anytime to pray and ask for blessings.” “The people buried here are seen as very pious in the Muslim world and we term them Auliyah, which means ‘Friends of Allah’. Because these men were so close to Allah there is a constant shower of blessings on these sites from the Maker,” says Dhansay. Blessed they may be, but inside the kramat there are few adornments on the walls other than religious inscriptions, and the grave – covered with lengths of richly embroidered cloth – takes pride of place. “The difference between a grave like this and an ordinary grave is the cloth that’s laid over it, what we call the Chadar or Ghilaf. It’s a mark of respect for these Auliyah,” says Dhansay. “But it’s important to realise that we don’t worship these saints, we only worship God. We just come here to the place of the Auliyah to pray, and hope for those prayers to be answered. During the holy month of Ramadaan many local Muslim people will come here to pray and to pay their respects to these saints.” “We only ask people visiting to remove their shoes, dress respectfully and sit in an orderly manner, or to stand. People also must not sit on the grave. We don’t mind people taking photographs or anything, as long as the kramat is treated with respect.” The Dutch colonial rulers may have had little respect for the spiritual leaders banished from far-flung Batavia, but today the kramats are an integral part of life for the large Muslim community of Cape Town and well-worth discovering for locals and visitors alike. For more information contact the Cape Mazaar Society on 021 699 0500 or visit www.capemazaarsociety.com. 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