The Qahwa Chronicles
Mufti Muntasir Zaman
O companion, rise, abandon idleness,
And take your morning drink of sweet finesse.
The daughter of the husk, purchased with jewels,
A coffee so brown, delight of the schools.
In Tayba and Mecca, its virtue is seen,
Indulge in the drink of the noble and keen.
So drink, and do not say, “Take the flask away,”
Its aroma has spread with the breeze today.
— Abū Bakr al-ʿAydarūs (d. 1038 AH)
For countless people, morning coffee is an indispensable part of daily life. The history of coffee long precedes modern routines, having taken root in the culture and discourse of Muslims since it appeared on the horizon. Though the coffee plant is understood to be native to Ethiopia, the origins of coffee-drinking are typically traced to Yemen, where it was popularized through its consumption by sufi devotees. The earliest documented sip took place in the 9th century AH/15th century CE. It eventually spilled over into common use and took hold as a cultural phenomenon, gathering litterateurs in coffeehouses and keeping scholars awake through long nights of muṭālaʿa.1
A popular narrative has it that coffee was widely considered impermissible when it was first introduced to Muslim societies. An extensive study of legal writings on coffee shows that, throughout its history, most scholars considered coffee permissible, with a few declaring it impermissible, disliked, or even recommended. Those who prohibited coffee-drinking cited its allegedly intoxicating effects, but this was easily disproven and prohibition never took hold as a common legal opinion. As coffeehouses grew as a cultural institution and became host to various social ills, some scholars discouraged coffee-drinking due to how it may affect one’s reputation and the likelihood of falling into impermissible practices at the coffeehouse, such as gossip and gambling.2
Despite some initial misgivings about coffee itself and the culture it gave rise to, Muslim jurists soon came to agree on its permissibility.3 Coffee left an indelible mark on premodern Muslim societies, impacting their daily lives, gatherings, and even their poetry. In this post, we delve into a series of captivating moments in history, aptly named The Qahwah Chronicles.
The Qahwa Chronicles I: The Eunuch, the Henchman, and the Mufti
Once upon a peaceful wedding feast in the year 950 AH/1543 CE, Ibn Ḥajar al-Haytamī (d. 974 AH) was about to enjoy a cup of freshly brewed coffee when someone decided to test his patience. A senior mufti in the crowd scolded the poor waiters, “Coffee is impure and an unlawful intoxicant worse than alcohol!”
Haytamī was not having any of this. He confronted the heckler on the legal status of coffee, detailing the flaws of the Meccan Assembly’s proceedings on the issue. The meticulous explanation did little to assuage the mufti’s concerns. There was clearly a need for an objective third party. The mufti’s nephew, himself a qualified Ḥanafī judge, was silently observing the heated exchange when Haytamī asked for his thoughts on the issue. He said to Haytamī, “I agree with you what you’re saying.” “How dare he?”, the mufti thought. Feeling betrayed and embarrassed, he cursed his nephew. Adding insult to injury, the nephew tauntingly repeated to Haytamī, “I’m with you.” By now, all the guests agreed that the mufti had no leg to stand on.
The mufti stormed out of the gathering intent on vengeance. He devised a clever plan. Why not get some hired muscle? Fortunately for him, there lived in Mecca a eunuch who had served as an Ottoman royal servant (read: a zealous Ḥanafī). He recounted to the eunuch the events of that fateful night, ending on a piercing note: “How can someone of your stature reside in this city where Abū Ḥanīfa is being insulted in the saloons, and no one comes to his aid?” This sly insertion alluded to a comment made to the mufti during the wedding feast, “Your [Ḥanafī] legal school is quite flexible with nabīdh, so why the fuss over coffee?” Say no more—that was all the mufti needed for his concoction.
The eunuch listened to this twisted version of events with contempt, and a sinister thought came to his mind. He announced brazenly, “At the break of dawn, I will await in ambush as this man heads for class in the Ḥaram. I will then take his life with this sword of mine, and no one will avenge his death!” Having received news of the assassination plot, Haytamī was oddly unmoved and seemed to have something up his sleeve. The following morning, he went about his day as usual and made his way to the Ḥaram. With a tight grip on the hilt of his sword and a laser focus on the mark, the eunuch-turned-henchman jumped into motion to deliver the fatal blow, when he was struck by a sudden realization: the target was no ordinary shaykh—it was his shaykh. The eunuch came out of hiding, tossed the sword aside, and respectfully kissed his shaykh’s hands. Haytamī then proceeded to class unharmed, knowing well that he had won the day.
Haytamī concludes with some important advice: “If anything, this episode teaches us that a fanatic will never succeed and will ultimately be deprived of knowledge. So, don’t be that person.” Explaining how coffee gained such prominence, he adds, “It is said: whoever attempted to extinguish the fire (ikhmād) of coffee was hastily chastised.” I might add, echoing the sentiments of the People of Coffee, “This is the baraka of qahwa.”4
The Qahwa Chronicles II: “The Baraka of Coffee”
Circa 941 AH/1535 CE, the great Shāfiʿī jurist al-Shihāb al-Sunbāṭī was misinformed by some of Cairo’s riffraff that coffee is an intoxicant and should, therefore, be proscribed. During his following sermon at the al-Azhar Mosque, he felt it his moral responsibility to announce the prohibition of coffee to his congregation, who numbered in the thousands and included those with varying degrees of “ignorance and idiocy.” His words incited them to storm the coffeehouses of Cairo and put an end to this reprehensible practice. The mob was unleashed on the People of Coffee (ahl al-qahwa) like “ferocious lions,” beating them, looting their shops, and shattering their cups. This day would never be forgotten.
The viceroy of Egypt caught wind of the unfolding events, and grew anxious seeing what a single sermon could incite. With an axe to grind, an adversary of al-Sunbāṭī exploited the continuing unrest. He advised the viceroy, “For your sake, my dear master, be wary of this preacher. If he gives the word, the masses will tear down your palace, one stone at a time.” He then reminded the viceroy that the royal guards will be of no avail, because “when the masses of Egypt are determined to do something, not even the Egyptian army can quash their resolve!” The viceroy did not think twice: al-Sunbāṭī was immediately placed under house arrest and stripped of all his official roles as imam, mufti, and instructor at al-Azhar.
The news of al-Sunbāṭī’s fate was music to the ears of the People of Coffee. After days of being subject to humiliation, they filled the streets in celebration, praying for God’s wrath upon the coffee-naysayers responsible for their plight. They chanted, “Vengeance, O Master of both realms!” The festive atmosphere lingered on for some time. Reflecting on the turn of events, the People of Coffee proclaimed triumphantly, “This is the baraka of qahwa!” [And they lived happily ever after.]5
The Qahwa Chronicles III: An Earth-Shattering Drink
In 1039 AH/1630 CE, a wall of the Kaʿbah collapsed due to severe flooding. During the reconstruction, a screen was erected to conceal the opening. One day, Ibn ʿAllān (d. 1057 AH) noticed the gap and seized the opportunity to complete his ongoing recitation of the Ṣaḥīḥ inside the Kaʿbah, but he was sure to take his cup of coffee with him to the lesson—ultimately, a poor decision. His “adversaries” complained to the governor of Mecca that Ibn ʿAllān turned Allāh’s House into a “coffee lounge (ḥāna lil-qahwa),” and he was immediately detained.
Distressed, Ibn ʿAllān turned to Allāh for divine intervention. In the meantime, the governor was preparing for the maghrib prayer when the pillars of his palace began shaking as though an earthquake had struck. He summoned his vizier, who said, “This is the miracle of Shaykh Ibn ʿAllān!” At once, the governor released the Shaykh and compensated him for the inconvenience. Ibn ʿAllān later apologized for his actions, admitting that the coffee fiasco was shortsighted.6
Notes
1. Ralph S. Hattox, Coffee and Coffeehouses: The Origins of a Social Beverage in the Medieval Near East (University of Washington Press: 1988), 12-26.
2. Massoud Vahedi. “Coffee Was Once Ḥarām? Dispelling Popular Myths Regarding a Nuanced Legal Issue.” Islamic Studies 60, no. 2 (2021): 125–56.
3. Ibid., 141.
4. Ibn Ḥajar al-Haytamī, Thabat al-Imām Shaykh al-Islām Ibn Ḥajar (Amman: Dār al-Fatḥ, 2014), 422–423. Poetic license has been employed in this rendition.
5. Ibid., 416–418.
6. Al-Muḥibbī, Khulāṣat al-athar fī aʿyān al-qarn al-ḥādī ʿashar (Beirut: Dār Ṣādir, n.d.), 4:186.
