Visiting a morning prayer of Sufis

After finishing my coffee at 5 a.m., I am ready to join our Afghan friend Karim. We are heading to mosque Shah-e do Shamshera (Mosque of the King of Two Swords in English), which was built by order of King Amanullah's (r. 1919-1929). Karim invites me to partake in the ritual of Sufis - simplest way to describe them is to call them Islamic mystics. The father-in-law of Karim was a well-known Sufi - leader in Afghanistan. We had planned to visit him, but unfortunately he passed away before it happened. Now the brother of Karim’s wife Farzana is the new leader.
The biggest Sufi ceremonies in Kabul are held on Wednesdays after the regular Morning Prayer, explains Karim to me. Women are not supposed to enter to mosques in Afghanistan, but Sufis are more liberal. Later I discover two ladies in the corner of the mosque. They lift their burkas to peek around and point to the carpet next to them in order to invite me to join them.
I liked Shah-e do Shamshera the first time I saw it three years ago. It is a small elegant building, which is different from otherwise titanic standards in Kabul. It is always surrounded by a crowd of prayers, street vendors and public buses. Unfortunately the traffic from one of the main streets was diverted past the building. Now the narrow street is in constant chaos.
We arrive when the Morning Prayer just started. The doorways of the mosque are jammed by Afghans. Inside there is not enough space, prayers outside can hear the mullah’s speech through loudspeakers while standing on the street or sitting on the bank of the Kabul River. There are lots of doves flying around. They are being fed by the prayers and vendors. Some people just hand few afghanis from the car window to a vendor who then hurls the seeds to the doves. After a while the mullah finished his speech and everyone in sight froze in order to pray.
Karim invites me to a small garden just across the street - Ziarat-i-Shah-do-Shamshira. According to Nancy Hatch Dupree, early Islamic sources tell us that in the 7th century, when Islam first entered Kabul, there was a very important Hindu temple. The Ziriat is dedicated to the memory of an early Islamic commander who fell here during a fierce battle against the Hindus, fighting with a sword in each hand.
Karim wants me to go inside the tiny crypt, but some of the visitors there object. Still other people kindly show me a green light. Karim wants to argue in order to get me inside, but I ask him not to proceed. I see no reason for debate just because of my curiosity.
Meanwhile most of the crowd had vanished from around the mosque and the doorkeeper waves us in. I take off my boots in order to place them on the top of shoes piled up next to the doorway. I am still skeptical about Karim’s idea to enter the mosque, so I ask cautiously: Edžoza as? (Can I?) Permission is given and I enter the lovely hall.
It is difficult for me to describe the ritual. The singing part alternates with reciting of the texts. Sharp rhythm repeats again and again until some kind of catharsis arrives. It reminds me of a flowing river: the prayers undulate as waves and some hands rise in ecstasy. I would like to follow the ritual until the end when Sufis start to whirl, but we have to leave because it is getting too late. Soon the working day will begin. I am looking forward to visit next Friday when with Karim I can visit the meetinghouse of Sufis – now my curiosity has increased and I want to see the entire ritual.