Sous la direction de
Mohamed Almoubaker et François Pouillon
Pratiquer les sciences sociales
au Maghreb
Textes pour Driss Mansouri
avec un choix de ses articles
Cet ouvrage a été publié grâce au soutien des institutions suivantes :
la Faculté des Lettres et des Sciences Humaines, Agdal – Rabat
et le Centre Jacques Berque
Dépôt légal 2014 MO 0580
ISBN 978 – 9954 – 0 – 3614 – 3
© Fondation du Roi Abdul-Aziz Al Saoud
pour les Études Islamiques et les Sciences Humaines
(Collection Essais) Casablanca, 2014
Rue du Corail, Ain Diab, Anfa – Casablanca
Tél. : (212) 05 22 39 10 27/30 – Fax : (212) 05 22 39 10 31
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Table des matières
Remerciements......................................................................................... 5
Introduction ............................................................................................ 11
Mohamed Almoubaker et François Pouillon
Arrêts sur enquêtes
Savoir local : éloge d’un « informateur » .............................................. 27
Dominique Casajus
Au seuil de la recherche ethnologique : initiation au Maroc ................. 39
Claire Nicholas
Figurations et hiérarchies de la violence dans le Haut Atlas (Maroc) ... 47
Matthew Carey
En Kabylie : un savoir anthropologique à l’épreuve du terrain ............. 63
Michèle Sellès Lefranc
Dans l’Atlas central :
une doctorante française sur le terrain marocain ................................... 85
Annabelle Charbonnier
Enquêter sur les avocats dans la Tunisie de Ben Ali :
les arts de faire et leurs limites ............................................................... 99
Éric Gobe
Une semaine à Tunis (journal d’enquête, septembre 2012) ................. 111
Alain Messaoudi
ItInérAIres et récApItulAtIons
La cité antique et nous : retour sur un enseignement ........................... 131
Mohamed Almoubaker
L’enseignement de l’archéologie à l’université marocaine.
Le cas de l’université de Fès (partie arabe / p. 27)
Ali Ouahidi et Said El Bouzidi
A propos de la naissance d’un champ nouveau d’études historiques au
Maroc : les études ottomanes et iraniennes.
Dificultés et opportunités (partie arabe / p. 35)
Abderrahmane El Moudden
Du récit au manuscrit :
éléments pour une auto-ethnographie historienne ............................... 149
Mabrouk Jebahi
Writing the History of Jews in Morocco: A Call to Arms .................... 163
Jessica M. Marglin
Histoire, entre mémoire orale et mémoire écrite :
le parcours sinueux d’un projet de recherche ...................................... 169
Abdelahad Sebti
Écrire autrement l’histoire économique du Maroc du XXe siècle
(partie arabe / p. 43)
Tayeb Biad
Dernière séance : retour sur un séminaire ............................................ 179
François Pouillon
trAvAIller sur des documents non clAssIques
Parties de chasse (et sciences sociales) au Maghreb ............................ 209
Jean-Philippe Bras
Histoire et mémoire :
retours sur la guerre d’indépendance de l’Algérie ............................... 229
Daniel Rivet
De la connaissance de l’autre. Exemples de récits de voyage de
musulmans en pays étrangers (partie arabe / p. 57)
Abderrahim Benhadda
Paper Worlds. A Nesrani Ethnographer Entering the Manuscript
Trade in Morocco ................................................................................. 239
Léon Buskens
New Perspectives on the Voyage of Eugène Delacroix to North Africa:
Jews and Arabs Together...................................................................... 267
Shaw Smith
Indiana Jones et les manuscrits de Tombouctou :
effets de manche et d’autorité dans le reportage télévisé et la pratique
anthropologique ................................................................................... 293
Baudouin Dupret
Que peuvent dire des cartes postales sur la conquête du Maroc ? ....... 307
Bernard Rosenberger
enquêter sur des sujets « sensIbles »
L’esclavage en terre d’Islam : sujet « tabou » ? (partie arabe / p. 71)
Abdelilah Benmlih
Approches méthodologiques du souisme : remarques à propos de la
Tijania (partie arabe / p. 77)
Ahmed Azami
Travailler sur la darija (arabe marocain) ............................................. 335
Dominique Caubet
Travailler sur la prostitution au Maroc :
pour les mots, quelle cuisson s’il vous plaît ?...................................... 349
Hinde Maghnouji
Des Berbères dans l’Extrême-Sud tunisien ?
Excursions à Tamezret, Jbel Matmata.................................................. 367
Sonia Ben Meriem
Archéologues au bord de la crise de nerfs :
pratiques archéologiques en Algérie .................................................... 381
Kahina Mazari
De la dynamique d’une recherche en sciences sociales :
entre inquiétudes et convictions ........................................................... 393
Clémentine Gutron
elArgIssements
Sociologie des religions et paradigme de la sécularisation
(partie arabe p. 91)
Mohamed Sghir Janjar
Une sociologie ethnique existe-t-elle ? ................................................ 415
Zakaria Rhani
De Geertz à Rabinow : questions de méthode ..................................... 425
Corinne Cauvin Verner
Qu’est-ce qu’une recherche collective ? .............................................. 437
Daniel Nordman
choIx de textes de drIss mAnsourI
Publications de Driss Mansouri ........................................................... 449
•
Sur la situation des sciences sociales au Maroc
Au prisme d’Ibn Khaldūn : nation et communauté au Maroc ............. 453
La nation : de l’histoire à la iction ...................................................... 473
De l’individu à la personne.
Actualité de la pensée de M. A. Lahbabi ............................................. 489
Laroui ou l’obsession de la modernité ................................................. 505
La référence absente : Paul Pascon et Robert Montagne ..................... 533
Manifestations festives et expressions du sacré au Maghreb............... 555
•
Textes philosophiques
Être et essence chez Avicenne : lecture de Driss Mansouri ................. 573
Azelarabe Lahkim Bennani
Référence et signiication :
les limites de l’«analyse du discours».................................................. 583
Philosophie et liberté (partie arabe / p. 109)
Introduction (partie arabe / p. 11)
Mohamed Almoubaker et François Pouillon
Table des matières (partie arabe / p. 7)
Paper Worlds.
A 1HVUDQL Ethnographer Entering the Manuscript
Trade in Morocco
Léon BUSKENS1
all men or most men ish hat is noble but choose hat
is proitable and hile it is noble to render a ser ice not ith
an e e to recei ing one in return it is proitable to recei e
one. One ought therefore, if one can, to return the equivalent
of services received, and to do so willingly; for one ought not
to make a man one’s friend if one is unwilling to return his
favours.” Aristotle2
First steps
Fez, Sunday morning 19 June 1988, the weekly book market in
the courtyard of the Qarawiyyin mosque. I am leisurely looking at
old and second hand books, doing my best to understand whether
they might be of any use to my research on Islamic law in Morocco. I
have been brought here by my new friend Mostapha Naji, a bookseller
from Rabat, who invited me a few days ago to accompany him on a
trip to look for merchandise. All of a sudden a rather excited young
man comes up to me, asking me whether I am a Muslim. Hardly
1
Leiden University
Aristotle, The Nicomachean Ethics. With an English Translation by H.
Rackham, Harvard University Press, Cambridge, Massachusetts & London,
England, 1934, pp. 507-509.
2
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PRATIQUER LES SCIENCES SOCIALES AU MAGHREB
waiting for my reply, he tells me to leave the market: non-Muslims
are not allowed here. Fortunately Mostapha and one of his younger
local scouts come to my defence, claiming that the courtyard is not
yet part of the mosque proper, and that everybody is allowed to enter
this market. After some arguing I am allowed to stay, but I do not feel
very comfortable or welcome anymore. It is clear that as a nesrani, a
Christian outsider, I do not really belong in this place.
A few hours later Mostapha takes me with him in a “petit taxi”
to one of the new quarters of Fez, without saying much about
what we will do. We visit a teacher in his apartment and enter his
bedroom to look at some manuscripts. Mostapha spots a big jar of
honey and immediately asks to taste a spoonful of this exquisite
substance. Later our host invites us to a lavish lunch at his house.
The gentleman turns out to be another of Mostapha’s contacts who
are hunting for manuscripts, which Mostapha might want to buy for
his business. Unintentionally I am entering the world of manuscript
dealing, although I left on this trip as an innocent ethnographer
looking forward to visit new places.
Two days before, Mostapha had taken me to Meknes, where he
had still been cautious in introducing me to his contacts. Upon our
arrival we immediately went to see a dairyman, who was also on the
look-out for manuscripts. Mostapha had carefully instructed me not
to show any interest or knowledge, so as to avoid the impression that I
might be a potential customer. Soon afterwards he left me, telling me
to wait for him at the dairy. He would go to see another contact who
might not appreciate him being accompanied by a nesrani. On no
account Mostapha was willing to endanger his precious relationships
with local contacts, which constituted a vital part of his business
capital. After a hile he returned ith some indings hich he
showed me. He took me to a place where they made very good kefta,
which we ate in the street with excellent mint tea from another booth.
Mostapha explained to me that the food tasted so good because they
added some dirt, or as others would have it, human meat. By sharing
food and jokes our friendship grew.
The next morning Mostapha was already much more relaxed
about me meeting his contacts. He took me to a somewhat dilapidated
house full of stray papers. Mostapha had arrived too late to buy the
manuscripts from the grandchildren of a local scholar. These papers
were all that was left. I was free to choose whatever was of my liking,
PAPER WORLDS
241
Mostapha was happy to help me decipher the loose leaves and to
offer a price to the young man in charge. I was astonished to see that
the legal documents, which the deceased owner had stored at home
while working as a judge, and the notes for sermons for the feasts
celebrating the end of the month of Ramadan and the reat acriice
and other private papers, were apparently nothing but waste to the
heirs. Later that day I would have a similar experience with the
grandson of a ‘adl, a notary professional witness. He was offering
me bundles of legal documents from the archives of his grandfather.
Mostapha did not see any interest in these as merchandise, but he
was happy if I would buy these. In both cases my buying helped
Mostapha to maintain his relationship with local middlemen, while
I acquired some useful materials for my research on Islamic law
in Morocco. The sellers seemed to be quite happy, even slightly
surprised, to be able to sell papers for which hardly anybody would
be willing to offer money.
A day later in Fez something similar would happen. In a curioshop
in the midst of the mdina a legal document on parchment of about
four centuries old was on display in a showcase. Mostapha considered
the asking price, a thousand dirhams, quite high, but the piece also
to be of excellent quality. I was doubting, a few weeks before I had
still answered his offer to buy a manuscript with models for legal
documents (kitab al-watha’iq) from him with the assertion that I did
not want to become a collector of manuscripts, nor get involved in
the manuscript trade. Now I needed but little encouragement from
my friend to acquire this fascinating document, which would also be
a good source for legal history.
I had made the acquaintance of Mostapha in the middle of April
1988, through an introduction of a fellow PhD student from Leiden,
a story which I have told elsewhere.3 Soon I became a regular visitor
to Mostapha’s bookshop, Maktabat Dar at-turath, listening to the
learned exchanges of Moroccan and occasionally Western scholars
with him, and buying books from his well-selected stock. Within a
ee of our irst meeting Mostapha alread e pressed his contempt
3
Buskens (L.), “Conversations with Mostapha: Learning about Islamic Law
in a Bookshop in Rabat”, in Kommers (J.) & Venbrux (E.) Eds, Cultural Styles of
Knowledge Transmission. Essays in Honour of Ad Borsboom, Aksant, Amsterdam,
2008, pp. 19-24.
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for Western researchers who pretended to be Muslim, only in order
to get access for their research. He mentioned one particular Dutch
professor as an example, whose izhar al-islam recently had been
denounced in the Majallat al-Azhar.
Mostapha not only had a broad knowledge of the written heritage,
al-turath, of the Maghrib, he also took a sincere interest in many
other forms of knowledge and art, such as Chinese and Japanese
poetry. Furthermore, he turned out to be reliable and generous, and to
have a pleasant sense of humour. Apparently he started to appreciate
my company as well. At that time he was still living with his family
in the mdina of Salé, the twin city of Rabat on the other bank of the
Bou Regreg river. For lunch he would not make the cumbersome trip
back home, but normally go to “Taghzaout”, a popular restaurant in
the nearby old city of Rabat kept by Swasa, migrants from Southern
Morocco. Mostapha started to ask me to share his meals there and
to keep him company until he would open his shop again in the
afternoon. I as still tr ing to ind a famil to li e ith in the true
anthropological fashion, meanwhile staying in a hotel next to the
boo shop and thus more than happ to ind a friend ith hom I
could feel at ease.
Mostapha’s invitation two months later to go on a trip with him
was a further expression of his trust in me, and also of his appreciation
for me as a willing listener to his stories. Before embarking on the
journey he expressly stipulated that I would in no way interfere with
his business. Some of his contacts would not be too happy to see
him in the company of a non-Muslim. Others might get the idea to
raise their prices, since they would think that Mostapha would be
buying on my behalf. I should also not talk about what I would see,
since some would consider the trade in manuscripts as not entirely
legal, while others would be happy to get around Mostapha and
directly deal with his contacts themselves. For Mostapha, I would
just be a tourist on a trip, who would keep him company and enjoy
the sights and meals. I understood his concerns, and happily agreed
to his conditions, looking forward to all kinds of new experiences.
his irst trip to Me nes and e ould turn out to be the beginning
of many trips together, and a dear friendship, which came to an end
with Mostapha’s untimely death in September 2000.
PAPER WORLDS
243
Entering the network
Often we would travel south. First by train to Marrakech, hence
continuing by bus to Agadir and Tiznit. In all these places, Mostapha
had his contacts, “des tuyaux”, who would search for manuscripts,
lithographs, and other old books. With some of them he was on very
good terms. For example, in Tiznit there was a father who toured
with his sons the countryside of southern Morocco to look for herbs,
old objects, which might be sold as souvenirs, and books. After the
long trip from Rabat, Mostapha would knock at their door, stretch on
the benches, and wait for food to be served. His nesrani travelling
companion was brought along without much fuss, and he seemed
to be welcome as well. Only after a proper meal and tea would
Mostapha start to look at their harvest of manuscripts, occasionally
even waiting until the next day, after a good night’s rest in the guest
room. In Agadir we had a similar experience. We arrived there almost
at midnight, and headed for the house of l-hellaq, “the barber”. This
gentleman had found out that touring the countryside to look for
manuscripts as more proitable than sha ing heads and beards and
cutting hair. After having some fried eggs and mint tea we slept in the
sitting room, only starting to look at his recent discoveries the next
morning. During the next years the barber of Agadir would become a
specialist in furnishing manuscripts and photocopies of Berber texts.
Trips to the north, to Tangiers, Tetuan, Chefchaouen, showed
similar patterns, although the supply seemed less abundant. We
would travel by public transport, trains, buses, “grands taxis”, “petits
ta is ind some lodgings in cheap hotels or at people’s homes ha e
good food in popular places, and start to look for old acquaintances
and possible new contacts. While travelling, Mostapha would talk
about his discoveries, his wide reading, or his happy memories
of his travels as a hippie in Europe while in his early twenties. I
would be a grateful listener, eager to hear new and already familiar
stories. Mostapha was always willing to educate me, for example
pointing out that the two welcoming fat ladies with whom we had
just been rubbing buttocks in the back of the old Mercedes were in
fact prostitutes on the road. When I saw the road sign for Tinmal,
he was happy to take the detour, in order to see the famous ruins of
the mosque from Almohad times, “pour se rincer les yeux”. We had
wonderful walks at night in quiet Taroudannt or Tetuan, admiring
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PRATIQUER LES SCIENCES SOCIALES AU MAGHREB
the light and shadows on the buildings. Of course it was cheaper and
more pleasant to share a room. The one who had the money ready at
hand would pay, and later we would settle our accounts without too
much talk about small change.
I always stuck to the primary condition not to interfere with
Mostapha’s business. If I would be interested in his discoveries I
would tell him later, to pay the price that he asked, without ever
haggling, and he would never overcharge. Only if Mostapha did not
see any commercial interest in a book offered, I would tell him that I
might want to buy it if he did not mind. Sometimes he himself would
encourage me to make an offer directly to the seller, thereby obliging
his contact as well.
It was unavoidable that over time I did get involved in Mostapha’s
business. First of all as an incurable buyer in his bookstore.
Occasionally Mostapha would protest, telling me that the book I
coveted was worthless, or that I had already spent too much, and
should better start to worry about buying a house for myself. I was
also charged by my colleagues from the Leiden University Library
with the task to acquire materials, orders which I was happy to pass
on to Mostapha.
As an almost daily visitor to the bookstore, I gradually became
acquainted with the buying end of the manuscript trading network.
Whenever Mostapha had returned from a trip, a rather wealthy
merchant from the Sous region would turn up in order to exercise
hat he considered to be his pri ilege of ha ing the irst choice of the
new discoveries, at almost the price that Mostapha himself had paid.
This gentleman did not have a lot of knowledge about the Moroccan
literary culture, but took a strong interest in traditional medicine,
alchemy, and other popular practices from his region of origin. In
making these investments he strongly relied on Mostapha’s expertise,
occasionally going on trips with him in his big car, and helping him
with money. In the course of the years the Sousi merchant would
acquire a considerable library, parts of which he would later sell with
a big proit to a pri ate collector in the ulf. his transaction ould
create serious trouble, as he was not willing to let Mostapha share in
the proit ho felt utterl betra ed.
A few times I saw customers from Saudi Arabia or the Gulf in
the bookshop. They acted as if they owned the place, looking at
the European young man with a mixture of suspicion and barely
PAPER WORLDS
245
disguised disdain. For them I did not belong there, and could be at
best an un elcome competitor for hat the deined as an Islamic
heritage. Mostapha was good friends with a group of Spanish
converts to Islam, who took a strong interest in his discoveries on
the history of al-Andalus and Islamic mysticism. Mostapha liked
to travel with them as well, going for walks in the mountains and
having spiritual experiences. They showed their disapproval when
Mostapha talked with me about lighter subjects, such as an erotic
text in Arabic. However, our mutual friend did not see any problem
in combining these worlds.
Occasionally a man called al-Urduni, “the Jordanian”, would
show up, asking in quite an insistent manner whether Mostapha had
found anything for him. He was particularly keen on writings on
parchment and other old materials, which he would bring to Sotheby’s
in London to be sold at auction. An erudite librarian would visit the
bookshop frequently, being an avid bibliophile and bachelor. When
he inall married and bought an apartment he sold a considerable
part of his collection. The head of the national library at that time
was another “habitué”. His editions of Andalusi texts were for sale
in the bookstore. It seemed as if he wanted to keep a watchful eye on
Mostapha’s business.
Mostapha was always very generous towards students and
researchers. He offered them photocopies freely and suggested
subjects for their theses and articles. One of them was an employee
at the Ministry of Culture with a degree in Arabic who would publish
articles in learned journals from the Gulf for which he got paid. He
got involved in the manuscript trade by making descriptions of the
manuscripts that Mostapha found and by looking up references.
Somehow Mostapha was often short of money. Capital for his
acquisitions was regularly furnished by a young man who worked
as an assistant in a neighbouring bookstore. After Mostapha’s death
he would start a bookshop himself, with a good stock of out of print
publications.
Over the years Mostapha and I became close friends. After my
return to the Netherlands in late June 1990, we would frequently
exchange letters in which Mostapha announced new discoveries
and offered recent publications and old sources, both for me and for
the library. I would also call him regularly in his bookstore to catch
up. Whenever I would come to Morocco, Mostapha had already
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PRATIQUER LES SCIENCES SOCIALES AU MAGHREB
planned a trip to look for merchandise. I learned from Mostapha
about manuscripts and Islamic law, but also how to move around in
Morocco. Our mutual trust increased: when one of us was short of
cash the other would advance the money. When I had hopes to start a
relationship with a female colleague who happened to visit Morocco,
Mostapha accompanied me on a crazy trip to join her, and we were
both disappointed about my lack of success. At another occasion
Mostapha suggested to go and see a family with two daughters,
gifted for pla ing the lute and singing here I might ind a suitable
wife. Returning from a trip to the south we had beans in a street
restaurant in Marrakech and both fell terribly ill. Mostapha would
make fun of my darija, imitating my mistakes. For both of us it was
usually more convenient to speak French.
When Mostapha became critically ill and needed a considerable
sum for his operation he knew where his friends were. He tried to
calm me down when I feared for his life, by saying “Nous avons
encore beaucoup à partager”. All these exchanges had transformed
our relationship. I was no longer just a customer; Mostapha had
become m elder brother. e once deined his conception of lo e
in an unconsciously Aristotelian manner as: “Le plaisir d’être
ensemble.”
Questions
Only after Mostapha’s death I realised that I had had a unique
opportunity to study from nearby the manuscript trade, which would
permit me to understand the collections in libraries in an unrivalled
way. While being on the road with Mostapha and hanging out in
his bookstore, I had been too focused on the books themselves as
sources of knowledge and objects of desire, and I had not recognized
the booktrade in itself as a legitimate object of research, despite the
fact that I had read with much pleasure Kratchkovsky’s Among
Arabic Manuscripts before leaving for Morocco in the spring of
1988, in which this Russian orientalist described with relish his own
collecting activities of about a century ago.4
So far, very little has been written on the trade in Islamic
4
Kratchkovsky (I.Y.), Among Arabic Manuscripts. Memories of Libraries and
Men, E.J. Brill, Leiden, 1953.
PAPER WORLDS
247
manuscripts as a social activity. The presence of collections of
manuscripts in modern libraries in the West and in the contemporary
Muslim world is often taken for granted, something which hardly
needs questioning. Only the older history, of the seventeenth and
eighteenth centuries, gets some attention, often understood through
the lens of an antiquarian or “orientalist” approach.5 Studying the
social dimension of the collecting process does go beyond the
anecdotal or critical approaches, in that it makes us understand the
possibilities and limitations of these collections of sources, and the
social embeddedness of written materials. Texts do have a social life,
which we need to know about if we want to understand them properly.6
How rewarding these kinds of inquiries can be shows recent work on
the history and actual practice of ethnographic collections.
The trade in manuscripts should also be understood as an economic
5
Touati (H.), L’armoire à sagesse. Bibliothèques et collections en Islam,
Aubier, Paris, 2003, offers a history of libraries in the Muslim world in the classical
period. For the history of libraries in Morocco, see: Benjelloun-Laroui (L.), Les
bibliothèques au Maroc, Editions G.-P. Maisonneuve et Larose, Paris, 1990;
Binebine (A.-C.), Histoire des bibliothèques au Maroc, Faculté des Lettres et des
Sciences Humaines, Rabat, 1992; the history of the trade of the paper worlds, alwiraqa, by Mostapha’s distinguished patron, the famous historian Al-Mannûni,
see al Mannūn (M.) 7ăUĦNK DOZLUăTD DOPDJKULEL\\D 6LQă·DW DOPDNKWŗW DO
PDJKULEĦ PLQ DO·DVU DOZDVĦW LOă DOÀWUD DOPX·ăVLUD Manshūr t ulli at al
d b a l ’ulūm al ins ni a bi l Rib t al Rib t
and the olume of studies
on the trans-Saharan book trade Krätli (G.) & Lydon (G.) Eds., The Trans-Saharan
Book Trade. Manuscript Culture, Arabic Literacy and Intellectual History in
Muslim Africa, Brill, Leiden & Boston, 2011.
6
A special issue of Terrain applies this anthropological perspective to the study
of books as objects, with two studies on Morocco: Hugh-Jones (S.) & Diemberger
(H.) Eds, “L’objet livre”, Terrain no. 59 (2012). An attempt to study indications
of social use in legal documents and writings from Morocco is: Buskens (L.),
“Maliki Formularies and Legal Documents. Changes in the Manuscript Culture
of the ‘Udul (Professional Witnesses) in Morocco”, in Dutton (Y.) Ed, The
Codicology of Islamic Manuscripts. Proceedings of the Second Conference of AlFurqan Islamic Heritage Foundation, Al-Furqan Islamic Heritage Foundation,
London, 1995, pp. 137-145, in which I suggested to practice codicology also as
a social science. Benjelloun-Laroui op. cit. pp. 301-334, offers some information
on private collections and the book market in Morocco. Ryzova (L.), “The Good,
the Bad and the Ugly: Collector, Dealer and Academic in the Informal OldPaper Markets of Cairo”, in Mejcher-Atassi (S.) & Schwartz (J.P.) Eds, Archives,
Museums and Collecting Practices in the Modern Arab World, Ashgate, Farnham
& Burlington, 2012, pp. 93-120, is to my knowledge one of the few ethnographic
studies on the trade in old books and papers in the Middle East.
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PRATIQUER LES SCIENCES SOCIALES AU MAGHREB
phenomenon, in which dealers and scholars transform other people’s
trash into treasure. This alchemy takes place in a rather closed
community with its own rules, in which participants balance secrecy
with the publicity that commerce requires. For Morocco, GeorgesHenri Bousquet and Jacques Berque produced an early example of
how to study trade in their ethnography of the dallala, the auction,
in Fez, to which Geertz’ study of the suq in Sefrou can be seen as a
successor.7 he sociolog of a ea mar et in aris b ciardet offers
a model of analysis which comes closer to the peculiarities of the
manuscript trade.8
In the rest of this essa I ill irst anal se the changes in m
position in the trade network, especially the dynamics of the relation
between Mostapha and me. My personal experiences were linked
to my multiple and evolving statuses as a nesrani, ethnographer,
collector, middleman, and friend. Then I will address two major
ethical issues hich underl this anal sis. he irst is m participation
in the network of the book trade, and the second my writing about
these acti ities and e periences. M re ection upon these t o issues
is partly taking place after the fact, since I did already answer these
questions through my actions: I was involved in the network and I
am writing about the world of manuscript trade. As such this essay
may serve as prolegomena to further ethnographic notes of the
manuscript trade in Morocco, which I intend to publish elsewhere.
My contribution may also be understood as part of a growing body
of anthropological literature on the d namics of doing ield or in
Morocco.9
7
Bousquet (G.-H.) & Berque (J.), “La criée publique à Fès. Etude concrète
d’un marché”, in Revue d’économie politique 3, 1940, pp. 320-345 (Reprinted in:
Berque (J.) Opera minora. II: Histoire et anthropologie du Maghreb, Bouchène,
Saint Denis, 2001, pp. 17-35); Geertz (C.), “Suq: The Bazaar Economy in Sefrou”,
in Geertz (C.) et al., Meaning and Order in Moroccan Society. Three Essays in
Cultural Analysis, Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, 1979, pp. 123-313.
8
Sciardet (H.), Les marchands de l’aube. Ethnographie et théorie du commerce
aux Puces de Saint-Ouen, Economica, Paris, 2003.
9
The classic is Rabinow (P.), 5HÁHFWLRQVRQ)LHOGZRUNLQ0RURFFR, University
of California Press, Berkeley, 1977. A recent addition to this growing body of
literature is: Crawford (D.) & Newcomb (R.) Eds, Encountering Morocco.
Fieldwork and Cultural Understanding, Indiana University Press, Bloomington
& Indianapolis, 2013.
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249
Changing statuses
In my relationship with Mostapha and with his family, friends,
customers and middlemen I had the multiple statuses of nesrani,
ethnographer, student, collector, middleman, and friend. These
identities and roles should be understood as social ties and processes
evolving through time, rather than as static attributes. In the course of
time we became closer, although there always remained an element
of being an outsider, as in the case of many ethnographers who
always have to balance involvement and detachment. In this section
I focus irst on the categor of nesrani, and then on understanding
the process of gradual integration in Mostapha’s trade network and
in his family.
For Moroccans nesrani is a current term to indicate a Westerner,
who is assumed to be a Christian, as the literal, but scarcely understood
meaning “a person from Nazareth” indicates. Like kindred terms
such as rumi and gawri the stress in this notion is on difference,
social distance, and being an outsider, with negative connotations
that may come with the notions of “strange” and “stranger”. As in all
societies, in Morocco it matters whether a person belongs to the ingroup, is one of us, or is an outsider. Belonging and social distance are
expressed in spatial terms, by saying that somebody is qrib, “near”,10
or by saying that “he is one of us”, as did an assistant in another
boo shop hen he sa me again after a hile: Léon hu a d alna
Despite theological ideals about the relations between the followers
of the three monotheistic religions, in daily parlance a nesrani is a
clear outsider, who lives in a different cultural world, with its own
values and practices, as expressions such as kelma nesraniyya, “a
given word which one should keep” (literally “a Christian word”),
and qelbu nesrani, “his heart is insensitive to pity” (literally “his
heart is Christian”) show.11
The term nesrani, plural nsara, refers to multiple forms of
strangeness, in religious, geographical, and hence social terms. In
10
cf. Eickelman (D.F.) Moroccan Islam. Tradition and Society in a Pilgrimage
Center, University of Texas Press, Austin & London, 1976, pp. 96-98.
11
De Prémare (A.L.) et al., Langue et culture marocaines. Dictionnaire arabeIUDQoDLVpWDEOLVXUODEDVHGHÀFKLHUVRXYUDJHVHQTXrWHVPDQXVFULWVpWXGHVHW
documents divers. Tome II, L’Harmattan, Paris, 1999, p. 378.
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PRATIQUER LES SCIENCES SOCIALES AU MAGHREB
this notion centuries of history resound: of Morocco being on the
frontier between the Muslim and the Christian world, from the
conquest of al-Andalus to its Reconquista, through the skirmishes
with the Portuguese and Spanish invaders on the Atlantic and
Mediterranean coasts, the subsequent colonisation by Spain and
France, and the decolonisation. The religious dimension also refers
to notions of purity and impurity, which are strongly articulated in
the classical Maliki doctrine that is dominant in Morocco. A nesrani
is not circumcised, does not respect the taboos on alcohol and pork
and is hence impure and potentially polluting. This impurity means
for Moroccans that a nesrani should not be allowed to enter a mosque
or other places of worship, such as the tomb of a saint or a zawiya.
At the beginning of the rench protectorate L aute conirmed this
interdiction through legislation, in order to prevent social unrest.
A nesrani might live in Morocco, but he does not belong there, he
is foreign, outside society, strange, and supect. A male nesrani is
doubly suspect in that he constitutes a possible danger to Moroccan
women, whom he might try to seduce and corrupt.
In these widespread Moroccan understandings of religious, social
and cultural difference, there is also always a slight element of
ambivalence. In some ways the European model is appealing, some
people going so far in their complaints about present day corruption
and economic problems that they express a longing for the bygone
European colonial dominance. For some people having a nesrani as a
guest or as an acquaintance might even be a source of social prestige.
More directly, a nesrani is generally seen as a possible economic
resource irst of all of readil a ailable cash but also a means to
gain access to Europe and thereby to a well-paid job and a better life.
Occasionally, when in a bad mood, Mostapha would stress the
differences between us. Once he told me that he would never be
able to be friends with me as with a fellow Muslim, since we were
fundamentally different. When I asked for a further explanation he
sho ed embarrassment inall coming up ith the reason that nsara
stink, since they are not circumcised. When Mostapha was seriously
ill and I expressed my concerns in a too sentimental manner according
to his taste, he corrected me by telling me that I overestimated our
friendship. But over the course of more than twelve years his deeds
seemed to contradict these isolated statements, and our ties grew
stronger. He would often write me to ask when I would come again
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so that we could travel. When on the telephone, he would tell me
that he had “le caffard”, and would like to leave on a trip with me
to cheer up. A few days after I got the news of his untimely death in
September 2000, I received a letter from him which he had written
right before leaving on his last fateful trip to Tetuan. He informed me
about new discoveries, but also mentioned that he had dreamed of me
and mi novia making a trip through Morocco in an air-conditioned
car with the children that we might get. Somewhat earlier he had sent
me a lock used in the Sahara to close leather pouches, which would
eep m iancée and me together.
Friendship was only one dimension of our relationship, albeit
for me the most important one. Mostapha allowed me to enter his
trade network in my multiple capacities as a friend, a student, and
a customer. But I always chose to remain at the periphery of this
network, at the buying end of his lines of contacts. This relative
marginality was partly the result of Mostapha’s condition that I
should not interfere with his business other than as his client. My
position in the trading network hardly ever changed since Mostapha
allowed me to enter it. I was content with my marginal position,
which allowed me to observe. I never tried to cut him out, but on
the contrary stressed the importance of him taking his gain, since
he was dependent on the trade to make a living. For me our shared
adventures were more interesting than the booty.
In the book trade the networks of middlemen and local scouts
were one of the main assets. These networks needed to be created,
maintained, extended, and renewed. At one end of the network
the main question as ho to ind merchandise hich required
being constantly alert. People collecting garbage and used paper
in Marrakech knew that Mostapha would pay a good price if they
found something interesting. There were also young men who would
al a s be on the atch out on the ea mar ets and local auctions for
old books. Itinerant traders were travelling the countryside searching
for merchandise of all kinds, herbs, honey, antiquities, curios, and
manuscripts. These men might also put Mostapha in contact with
people with more substantial libraries to sell than they themselves
would dare to acquire, knowing that they would be properly rewarded
for any piece of useful information.
On the other end of the line would be the possible buyers, in number
almost as limited as the providers. Only a few were Moroccan, and
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these were mostly interested in printed books from the colonial
period, preferably with nice illustrations. Mostapha preferred to
mingle with the scholars and students with an interest in manuscripts,
from whom he could learn in his turn. He enjoyed discussing his
discoveries with scholars such as the traditionally oriented historians
Bukhubza and al-Mannuni, whose learning he held in high esteem
and to whom he would be happy to provide photocopies of texts that
might be of their interest. Expertise was an important asset in this
trade. The sellers could often hardly read the manuscripts they were
selling and barely had an idea of their worth. Some trusted Mostapha
completely with the prices he offered. He would add value to their
discoveries through his extensive knowledge of palaeography and
bibliography, which often enabled him to identify the more common
texts at one glance. This process of value transformation meant that
an important part of his business capital, the networks, could only be
useful if it would be kept secret for private use. If large investments
were required for the acquisition of considerable libraries, Mostapha
often worked together with colleagues who disposed of cash, but had
little knowledge of the materials. Trust and honouring your promises
were important elements of the trade.
I obtained the privilege to observe this restricted world of sellers
in search of proit and bu ers longing for no ledge and possessions
by becoming part of this world as a marginal actor. Maybe it was
strange for the middlemen to see Mostapha hanging out with this
nesrani. For them I was mostly just a curiosity with money, although
some welcomed me with genuine hospitality in their homes. It was
clear that my admission was largely dependent upon my friendship
with Mostapha. I was again confronted with this when I once tried to
enter the dellala, the ambulant street auction, of old books opposite
the usui a in Marra ech. Despite m efforts at e planation in
Moroccan Arabic, I was told in unambiguous French that this was
not a place for me to enter. Without good company, I remained an
ordinary nesrani.
In the domain of family life, the changes in relations were more
considerable over the years, although here there were also limits not
to be crossed. I got to know his children, three sons and a daughter,
quite well. I saw them growing up while visiting their father in his
bookshop. Occasionally they would also go with us on a trip. Once
he had bought a spacious house in the mdina of Rabat, he would
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frequently invite me to his house for lunch. His wife would cook
for us, but I was never allowed to meet her in person. Once, when
he wanted to show me the kitchen, he told her to stand in the corner
with her face to the wall. Later he explained that his wife did not
want to meet me out of decency. But she would spy on us by looking
do n at the inner court ard from the upper oor and eagerl follo
the development of my pursuit of conjugal happiness “as if she were
watching a soap opera”, as Mostapha explained. Mostapha often
invited me to stay with him at home, although he understood that
I did not want to leave my friends in Salé, with whom I had been
living before I came to know him well.
When Mostapha hunted down a substantial library that had
belonged to a French colon in Casablanca he took me to the house of
his parents. There we could leisurely go through the books that had
been delivered in dirty bags originally used to transport agricultural
products. He introduced me to his widowed mother and some of his
brothers, and we would stay over for the night.
After Mostapha´s sudden death because of a heart attack at the
age of 49 in September 2000 my involvement changed drastically.
I kept contact with his family, visiting them whenever I would be
in Rabat. After the departure of Si Mohammed, the eldest son, to
France, Amina, Mostapha´s widow, changed her attitude and would
meet me in person to receive my help. After ten years the heirs
decided to sell his library, his notebooks, collections of photocopies,
and private papers. The widow and her eldest son asked me whether
I could help them to offer these to the library of Leiden University,
which Mostapha had always held in high esteem. Mostapha had often
told me that he wanted me to have his knanesh, notebooks, if ever
something would happen to him. They are now kept in Leiden to
honour his memory. It was a real joy that one of my former students
spent almost a year in the house of Mostapha’s family during his
studies in Morocco.
he irst fe
ears after Mostapha’s death his famil and his
business partner told me that some of his former middlemen, such as
the barber form Agadir, still occasionally turned up with manuscripts
to sell. They themselves lacked the knowledge for this business and
asked me to intervene. I declined the offer, I no longer wanted to be
involved. I not only missed Mostapha’s knowledge and experience,
but also his company. Without Mostapha the trade had lost its
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meaning for me.
Ethics of participations
The above analysis of my ambiguous position as a nesrani fellow
traveller in the world of manuscript trading brings us to two ethical
issues: both my participation in the network, albeit marginal, and my
observing and writing about the trade may be considered problematic.
I could only gain access to the secrets of the trade because of
my double status as both a friend and a client of Mostapha. My
observations as an ethnographer, the job which enabled me to hang
out ith Mostapha in the irst place depended on m participation
as a buyer. Collecting books, for the Leiden library and for myself,
was part of my research activities. For Mostapha it was thus not only
entertaining to ta e me along but also proitable. e both mi ed
emotional, social, intellectual, and commercial interests. But in the
later stages of our friendship he stressed again and again that I did not
need to buy books. Even if I would no longer do so, our friendship
would still continue.
As a compulsive collector, buying books was almost a natural
activity for me. Before leaving for Morocco, I had also received the
advice of a lecturer at Leiden University to hang out in bookshops
as a good way to gather information. My exposure to manuscripts
started at an early age. My father had instilled in me a strong wonder
for illuminated Western manuscripts by showing me facsimile
editions and by visiting the treasuries of Catholic churches. One
of the attractions of studying in Leiden was its rich collection of
manuscripts, linked to colourful stories of ancient collector heroes,
such as Golius, Warner and Snouck Hurgronje, and contemporary
ones, notably the keeper of the oriental collections at that time Jan
Just Witkam. Time and again this mentor insisted on the importance
of seizing opportunities. He always encouraged me to collect what
I could, the analysis could wait till a later moment. I had also read
with great relish the vivid tales of orientalist manuscript collecting
b Kratch o s and elliot. n the er irst da that I spent in
Morocco, in spring 1984, I saw a manuscript for sale in the bookstore
of Hennana in Tetuan. Little could I think that I would return many
years later to this dealer with Mostapha, as he turned out to be one
of his local contacts.
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Despite these unconscious preparations at irst I categoricall
refused Mostapha’s offer to buy manuscripts. I had all sorts of qualms,
among them the consideration that ideally manuscripts should stay
in their context, that their collecting belonged to an orientalist past
incompatible with modern ethics. At the same time I felt a strong
curiosity to enter these paper worlds.
Through my travels with Mostapha I gradually realized that
the contexts of manuscripts were manifold. Private and public
libraries ere places for boo s but the mar et as deinitel
another context. Books had many dimensions, as objects of study,
of veneration, of conspicuous consumption, but also as commodities
circulating, inside and outside Morocco’s borders. While travelling
with Mostapha in southern Morocco, I gradually discovered the
longstanding intellectual and commercial exchanges between the
Maghrib and West Africa with the Sahara as the trading route. These
old links manifested themselves in the people I saw, the goods for
sale in the markets of Marrakech, the ideas of scholars present in the
teachings of the Maliki school, with as their paragon Ahmad Baba
al-Tinbukti, the author of the indispensable bio-bibliographical work
Nayl al-ibtihaj, but also in the manuscripts for sale.12
During the colonial period Western scholars tried to enter the book
market in Morocco, thus practicing the dominant ideal of scholarly
knowledge. Philology meant understanding these exotic worlds
through texts, by collecting, editing, translating and annotating
these. In the beginning it as quite dificult for the orientalists to
obtain texts, as Renaud relates for example.13 Refusal to sell books
to Westerners may be understood as a form of resistance against
colonialism.14 This resistance was fused with religious objections
12
Recently the history of this trans-Saharan book trade has been the subject
of a volume of studies: Krätli & Lydon op. cit. Stewart (C.C.), “A New Source on
the Book Market in Morocco in 1830 and Islamic Scholarship in West Africa”, in
Hespéris Tamuda 11(1970), pp. 209-246, and four plates, presents an important
source on a Mauritanian scholar acquiring books in Marrakech circa 1830.
13
cf. Renaud (H.-P.-J.), « L’enseignement des sciences exactes et l’édition
d’ou rages scientiiques au Maroc a ant l’occupation européenne in Hespéris
14 (1932) no. 1, pp. 78-89; Benjelloun-Laroui op. cit. pp. 322-325 ; Binebine
op. cit. pp. 117-118
14
cf. Simenel (R.), « Le livre comme trésor. Aura, prédation et secret des
manuscrits savants du Sud marocain », in Terrain no. 59 (2012), p. 62.
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PRATIQUER LES SCIENCES SOCIALES AU MAGHREB
to grant nsara access to materials which people considered Islamic.
However, during the following decades French and Spanish scholars
created new public and private libraries in which they assembled
important collections of manuscripts. They also explored existing
collections, such as of the Qarawiyyin in Fez and published
extensively about their discoveries.15 Some of these private libraries
later ended up in European collections. An example is the collection
of Berber manuscripts which Arsène Roux assembled in close
cooperation with local assistants and copyists during the colonial
period in southern Morocco, and which he left to a research institute
in Aix-en-Provence. Thanks to Roux’ collecting, Western and
Moroccan scholars now have an overview of an extensive Islamic
literature in Tashelhit.16
Nowadays these orientalist collecting activities are regarded with
suspicion and even disapproval by many Moroccan scholars. The
occidentalist stereotype of foreigners emptying the country, for token
prices or even without payment, conceals much more complicated
historical processes. In the post-colonial world new global trade
networks have emerged structured by new power relations. These
manifest themselves in new understandings of cultural heritage,
e pressed in e tensi e operations of cataloguing microilming and
safeguarding manuscripts by Western and local scholars, in countries
such as Mauritania and Mali.17 It does in any case not correspond
with the current state of the manuscript market, in which nsara play
a very limited role, only to the extent that local actors allow them to
do so.
In the manuscript trade as I got to know it during the last twelve
years of the past century, people did not seem to be deprived of the
treasures by cunning Westerners. It often seemed to me that the
people who offered manuscripts for sale to Mostapha took very little
interest in their merchandise. They were heirs of literati who lacked
the sophisticated knowledge of their forebears to understand these
learned texts. For them these books had become rather meaningless
15
cf. Benjelloun-Laroui op. cit. ; Binebine op. cit.
cf. Van den Boogert (N.), Catalogue des manuscrits arabes et berbères du
Fonds Roux (Aix-en-Provence), IREMAM, Aix-en-Provence, 1995.
17
cf. Krätli & Lydon op. cit. ; Dupret in this volume.
16
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257
objects, almost trash, for which maybe somebody else would offer
some money. In other cases the sellers were middlemen who also did
not have much knowledge of the contents, but were patient enough
to tra el e tensi el and use their local contacts to ind merchandise.
Some of these manuscripts, for example the popular prayer book
Dala’il al-khayrat, would end up as souvenirs for sale in curio shops.
A similar example were the legal documents written on wooden
boards, alwah, common in southern Morocco, which apparently had
lost their legal meaning and started to turn up in increasing quantities
in shops in Marrakech from the early 1990s onwards.
Some highly literate sellers were an exception to this general
observation. They knew very well what they offered, and what it
might be worth. These collectors might only sell in order to improve
their collection, or occasionally out of need. In at least one case,
the learned scholar and former librarian also earned money by
copying manuscripts by hand if photocopying was not permitted, or
considered less desirable for aesthetic or scholarly reasons. These
erudites were at the same time also present at the buying end of the
net or and formed a small dificult to access circuit. he habitués
of Mostapha’s bookstore avidly followed his acquisitions. If they
were not able or willing to buy, they might help in identifying texts
with their expertise. Occasionally Mostapha would oblige them by
offering a photocopy of a manuscript at the price of its reproduction.
This was a favour, as some buyers would not be happy to know
that their acquisitions had become less unique through reproduction.
There existed a market for manuscripts, and also for photocopies of
manuscripts.
A related market was the selling of old books from the colonial
period. For these the market seemed to be somewhat bigger, as these
books were more accessible to educated Moroccans. Especially
luxurious illustrated editions became increasingly sought after. Some
Moroccan dealers would go to France to look for stocks of these
colonial publications that remained with the original publishers, as
these books were much more expensive in Morocco. Once I received
a letter form a business acquaintance of Mostapha with a request
for lodgings and help in the Netherlands to look for orientalist
publications. When I called Mostapha I understood that this man
was not a real friend of his, hence I declined the possibility of further
involvement.
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PRATIQUER LES SCIENCES SOCIALES AU MAGHREB
Foreigners constituted an important part of the market, but not so
much the Westerners. Collectors and librarians from Saudi Arabia
and the Gulf countries regularly came to Morocco to look for what
they considered to be “Islamic heritage”. When I realized that many
manuscripts would leave Morocco to end up in almost inaccessible
collections in Arabia, I felt less guilty of linking Mostapha to my
colleagues at the Leiden University library, where the books would
be freely available to any serious scholar.
The Moroccan government showed only limited interest in
spending money on manuscripts. Mostapha complained that libraries
had a very limited budget and delayed payment sometimes for years.
People were also not too eager to send their manuscripts to the yearly
exhibitions organised under the patronage of King Hassan II.18 They
feared that later they might be asked to donate these books, or that
they would simply never get them back again. Seizure was a known
way to enrich public libraries. After independence the government
had coniscated the libraries of some prominent collaborators of the
French and stored these in the national library in Rabat.19
During the past decade notions of Moroccan heritage have
become stronger, in conjunction with the promotion of tourism, the
development of a collecting middleclass, and international concern
expressed in treaties and legislation. For Moroccan collectors folk
art and modern painting seem to be more precious than manuscripts.
At the same time Moroccan folk art, especially carpets, textiles
and jewellery, has become a priced commodity on the international
market, as catalogues of exhibitions in European and American
museums and art galleries sho . Also in this ield manuscripts hardl
play a role, maybe they are not conspicuous enough for showing off.
Mostapha’s agency played a decisive role in my getting involved
in the trade. His encouragement was entirely logical since he made
a li elihood out of trade. At our irst meeting I bought some er
useful bio-bibliographical works, which helped me substantially
in understanding the classical Moroccan legal tradition. Soon
afterwards Mostapha started to show me manuscripts which might
be of interest either for my research, or for the university library,
18
19
cf. Benjelloun-Laroui, op. cit. pp. 325-326 ; 381-398.
cf. Benjelloun-Laroui, op. cit. p. 309.
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259
hinting at the fact that they were for sale. At that time I still resisted
valiantly, but I would succumb soon, as this story demonstrates.
Mostapha was guided in his business not only by purely
commercial considerations. In fact he as irst of all a reader and an
erudite, who enjoyed the exchange of ideas with friends and visiting
scholars. Later he also became an editor and publisher of texts which
he considered interesting for the study of al-turath, the Moroccan
heritage. At several occasions he told me that he had become a
book dealer in order to be able to read and to make as many fresh
discoveries as possible. After he had enjoyed a book he did not have
much dificult in passing it on.
Mostapha assembled several collections of books and documents,
for example an almost complete set of Octave Pesle’s valuable studies
on Maliki ÀTK, and of Andalusi and Moroccan manuscripts on the
drafting of legal documents, the kutub al-watha’iq. He linked these
ith iles of photocopies of manuscripts and articles and ith note
taking in his knanesh and the writing of letters in which he exposed
his disco eries and insights and inall the edition and publication
of some of these texts.20 When he wanted to buy a new house he
offered these two collections to me, knowing that they would always
remain available for him, and that I would cherish them.
Another domain in which Mostapha demonstrated his agency
was in his discovery of a literature on Islam written in Tashelhit,
the erber language of southern Morocco. he irst trace of this
an Arabic-Berber glossary, he found by chance in a grocery shop
late at night, while looking for matches to light his cigarette. This
magniicent piece as acquired b the librar of the ondation du
Roi Abdelaziz Al Saoud in Casablanca. At about the same time my
friends from Leiden University in their turn discovered the collection
of Berber manuscripts that Arsène Roux had left to Aix, and the
edition of a text by Muhammad al-Awzali by the Dutch Egyptologist
Stricker (1960). Once I had brought my friends in contact, a very
fruitful cooperation developed, in which Mostapha’s indefatigable
collecting combined with Nico van den Boogert’s studies led to
20
For example: N (M.) d. DO:DWKă·LTDOPXNKWDVDUDOLOTăGĦ$EĦ,VKăT
DO*KDUQăWĦ W K , Markaz ihy ’ al-tur th al maghrib al Rib t, 1988 ;
and N (M.) d. DO:DWKă·LTDOVLMLOPăVL\\DOL$EĦ¶$EG$OOăK0XKDPPDGDO
0DVPŗGĦ DOTDUQK , Markaz ihy ’ al-tur th al maghrib al Rib t, 1988.
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PRATIQUER LES SCIENCES SOCIALES AU MAGHREB
considerable progress in our knowledge.21
In all these exchanges it was clear that for Mostapha books were
more than a commodity, and that the transactions were about more
than inancial gain onl . e en o ed the social aspect the tal ing
hunting, the recognition for his insights and sleuthing, as much as
the material beneits. e follo ed a conscious polic of placing
rare pieces in the collections in hich the itted best and ould be
accessible for researchers. While the circle of people interested in
manuscripts was quite small, the rarity of certain texts could still
make competition between collectors quite stiff. Occasionally this
would lead to quarrels between collectors and between Mostapha
and his customers. Mostapha held the library of Leiden University
in high esteem, since he considered it to be a place where any serious
scholar would be granted access, hence he offered us manuscripts
which he considered important. On the other hand he would never
allow me to rummage in boxes with new arrivals for fear of me
as a Christian touching masahif, copies of the Qur’an, which he
considered haram. He would also never even offer me beautifully
written leaves from the Holy Book for sale. In these matters I
remained an outsider, albeit also of my own choice.
Our exchanges took multiple forms. The price written at the
back of the book, normally by one of his two faithful assistants
Abdelhafed and Si Mohammed, was not the price his friends would
pay. Depending on the publisher there would be a bigger or smaller
discount, which was also related to the degree of friendship with
the customer. Other books would be a present, as I would send
Mostapha books which he could not get easily in Morocco, or
which I considered to be of particular interest, such as the French
translation of Urabe Kenko’s Les heures oisives.22 When I had taken
21
Van den Boogert analysed the Berber literary tradition in his 1997
monograph: Van den Boogert (N.), The Berber Literary Tradition of the Sous.
With an Edition and Translation of ‘The Ocean of Tears’ by Muhammad Awzal
(d. 1749), Nederlands Instituut voor het Nabije Oosten, Leiden, 1997. He also
catalogued the Roux collection in op. cit. (1995), and studied the lexicographical
tradition in Berber. For a recent study of the cult of manuscripts in the Sous region,
with attention to collecting and commerce, see Simenel op. cit.
22
Urabe Kenkô, Les heures oisives (Tsurezure-Gusa). Suivi de Notes de
ma cabane de moine (Hôjô-Ki) par Kamo no Chômei, Gallimard, Paris, 1968
(Translations by Charles Grosbois & Tomiko Yoshida; and by Sauveur Candau).
PAPER WORLDS
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a copy of this book on my trip to Kyoto in 2010, I learned from a
Japanese colleague that Mostapha had mentioned this text as one
of his favourites. Mostapha in his turn would also look for objects
which he knew I would appreciate, such as inkpots and brass water
jars from southern Morocco.
Ethics of disclosure
Not only my participation in the network, but also my writing
about the trade a form of ta ing distance and ob ectiication is
problematic. I could enter the network and observe its workings
because I was an outsider and a friend. For Mostapha I wasn’t a
menace, but rather an asset. Do I betray our friendship after twentyi e ears b riting about it I should gi e heed to rabe Ken o’s
admonishment:
“En toute chose, il est bon de se comporter avec réserve. Un
homme rafiné se antera il de ce qu’il sait puisqu’il le sait
Des domaines qu’on conna t à fond il aut mieu ne pas
parler si personne ne vous pose de questions.”23
The combination of the two ethical issues that I address here
points to a general problem in anthropological ield or and
reporting, which is balancing the two processes of involvement and
detachment.
Mostapha felt somewhat uncomfortable about his trade. He
enjoyed the adventure of discovery, the socializing, and the reading
of his ne inds. ut he as also afraid that he ould be seen as
somebody who squandered the Moroccan heritage to foreigners.
There was always an element of secrecy, to protect his sources
and his clients, but also for fear of doing something illegal, or at
least reprehensible, although the law in vigour (of 1980) might
be understood as leaving considerable room for manoeuvring. At
several occasions he told me that I should not keep his letters, but
destroy them, as they might incriminate him with posterity.
The fear of prosecution became quite real when Mostapha heard
a rumour about a theft from the Royal Library and that the police
23
Urabe Kenko op. cit., p. 86.
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might also come to search his house. Although Mostapha was not
involved in this affair, he became extremely worried. All night he
and a young employee at the Ministry of Culture, who often assisted
him in describing the manuscripts for sale, were busy destroying all
the photocopies they had collected of manuscripts, tearing them up
and tr ing to ush them through the toilet. he morning after still
nothing had happened, and Mostapha realised with relief that his
worries had been unfounded.
Should I respect Mostapha’s wishes and not write about him out
of friendship? Does revealing the secrets of the trade mean betrayal?
Or should I write about our adventures because of friendship? Can
my reporting of Mostapha’s actions be an act of loyalty?
I have already given an answer to these questions by writing this
essa so hat follo s might ust be a ustiication for m egotism.
With my reporting I intend to honour the unique contribution of
Mostapha to the study of the Moroccan manuscript culture. He
identiied important ields of materials b creating collections note
taking and editing. Mostapha played an active role in safeguarding the
heritage by transmitting the manuscripts to a following generation,
from people who hardly cared for this “waste paper” to scholars
and collectors who were willing to pay for it. Without Mostapha’s
engagement the Roux collection in Aix would still be the only
sizeable collection of written Berber texts in the world. He went to
great trouble to tour the Moroccan countr side to ind un no n te ts
leading to the discovery of a folio of a very old manuscript in Berber.
Amid a pile of trash in an old shed he immediately recognised it as
an important fragment of an unknown early tradition, and hence he
baptised it his “Mona Lisa”. By searching assiduously over many
years for these in Morocco at that time barely appreciated materials
Mostapha created a new context for what seemed to be until then
an almost isolated phenomenon. In a similar manner he collected
many manuscripts and documents, as well as bio-bibliographical
information, related to the tradition of written proof in the Maliki
school of law. His untimely death prevented him from publishing
more in this ield.
With this text I have also tried to make a more general contribution
to the knowledge of the coming into being of collections of Islamic
manuscripts. Insights into the agency of the sellers and buyers offers
understanding of the underlying structures of these collections. They
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might seem to consist of randomly brought together texts, but this
is not always the case. The present story demonstrates that not all
manuscripts were for sale to everybody. Attention for the agency of
the sellers in the network also contradicts the occidentalist stereotype
that all collections are just illegally obtained booty. Manuscripts
have for centuries been a commodity, although a special one, traded
in a particular market. In order to work properly with these sources
it is important to understand the workings of these markets, and
the changes herein. The trade that I have described took place at a
particular moment in history, a post-colonialist, globalising context,
with its own peculiarities.
I have also more personal reasons to write down these stories.
They might offer insights into the dynamics of anthropological
research in Morocco at the end of the twentieth century. Human
encounters and friendship are an important part of this kind of work.
Mostapha was one of my dearest friends. Writing about our travels
and exchanges is remembering his generosity and care, and letting
others share in his legacy of friendship and scholarship.
Exchange and reciprocity
In this case study of the manuscript trade I have sketched one
particular network connecting people on the edge of the Sahara with
booksellers in Rabat, and with scholars and booklovers in places as
distant as Leiden and Riyad. The individuals concerned were involved
in a process of value creation, transforming trash into treasure. Apart
form many other things, books were commodities, which people
traded in a market. Like all markets, the proper functioning of the
paper network required a certain form of publicity and accessibility.
At the same time secrecy played a role, in order to make the trade
proitable to actors.
Like collecting, trade is a social activity in which the social ties
are constituted through various forms of exchange, and vice versa.
roit is onl one aspect of these e changes and not al a s nor for
all people involved the most important dimension. In recent writings
on the history of orientalist manuscript collections the pernicious
role of middlemen and collectors has been stressed. The present case
study shows that all parties involved have a certain agency, they all
have good reasons, partly economical, partly of a different nature, to
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be involved in these exchanges.
The exchanges of books for cash that I have studied here were
taking place at a particular moment in history, which we might call
post-colonial. The nesrani was a guest in Morocco, often welcomed
with grace, sometimes tolerated because of his cash, mostly marginal
in the social networks, to which he mainly was granted access because
of friendship. Although “friendship” can be a problematic category
for understanding the social relations between anthropologists and
their hosts, it may be the highest form of social involvement that an
ethnographer can attain in this post-colonial context.24 In this new
social order, even if globalising forms of economic dependency have
replaced earlier ones, exchange and friendship depend on the agency
of all parties involved. The nesrani can no longer brutally impose his
wishes, as in colonial times. If he behaves well and is lucky he may
become a guest, or even a friend.
The focus in this case study of post-colonial book collecting has
been on the multiple relations between Mostapha and the author. My
marginal integration in the networks of the paper worlds depended on
m e ol ing friendship ith this e igure in the trade the indi idual
in which many routes came together. Our growing friendship was
linked to various forms of exchange, of which commercial interests
formed one aspect. Selling books was embedded in much more
generalised forms of reciprocity. A simple act of selling would never
have resulted in the collections and accompanying documentation
that we, together with Moroccan scouts and Leiden colleagues,
constituted in a collaborative effort.
However, my active involvement as a collector poses serious
ethical problems. So does the fact that I have written about these
transactions and networks, thereby taking distance and breaching the
conditions of secrecy of the trade. The ethical issues peculiar to this
case are but a particular expression of the more general problem of
balancing in ol ement and detachment in anthropological ield or .
The detachment required for the writing of this story is just another
stage in the process that began ith a irst meeting to Mostapha’s
bookstore in April 1988 and the all but expulsion from the book
24
cf. Driessen (H.), “Romancing Rapport: The Ideology of ‘Friendship’ in the
Field”, in Folk 40(1998), pp. 123-136.
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market in Fez two months later. Had Mostapha still been alive I
might not have revealed the secrets of his trade, in order not to harm
his business interests or his reputation. Now that he has passed away
I hope that I honoured his memory. In this sense the present article is
meant as a continuation of the process of exchange.