The Elegant Master Of Damascening In Morocco

Standing in the heart of the old medina of Meknes, you watch the artisan at work, a true master of Damascening in Morocco. A thin layer of silver glides over dark steel like water finding its way through parched earth. The rhythmic tapping of a tiny hammer fills the air as light filters through the narrow alleyways, lending an ethereal glow to the craftsman’s tiny workshop. You lean closer, your breath caught, as intricate arabesques bloom beneath the master’s skilled hand—a living homage to an ancient art. The man before you, Chakib Hamid, embodies the enduring spirit of this craft.

The Apprentice of a Bygone Era

Born in 1966 in Meknes, Chakib Hamid grew up amidst the echoes of hammers, the scent of wood polish, and the vibrant chatter of the bustling medina—a world deeply connected to Damascening in Morocco. His father, a seller of artisanal wares, had laid the foundation for what would later become Chakib’s calling. As a young boy, he would follow his father to the souks, his small hands brushing against carpets and ceramics, his eyes drawn to the glint of steel and silver.

At first, Chakib’s world revolved around the demands of high school. But life had a different curriculum planned for him. By 1977, he had started working in the tourism sector, selling artisanal products to the steady flow of foreigners enchanted by the charms of Meknes. “Tourism is my life,” he often says, his voice imbued with gratitude for the way it shaped his journey.

By 1978, he ventured into guiding tourists through the labyrinth of the medina, albeit without official permission. It was here, amidst conversations with curious travelers, that Chakib’s multilingual prowess blossomed. Speaking Arabic, French, Spanish, and English, he became not just a guide but an interpreter of Moroccan heritage, translating the soul of his culture into words.

From Merchant to Master: Falling for Damascening

In 1992, after years of selling artisanal products, Chakib found himself magnetically drawn to one craft above all others: the delicate art of Damascening. It wasn’t a decision born of whimsy; it was a love affair nurtured by years of quiet observation. In a small bazaar tucked away in the medina, an old artisan shared his secrets with Chakib, teaching him to wield tools with precision and patience.

Damascening in Morocco is an ancient and labor-intensive craft. It involves embedding silver or gold threads into dark steel, creating intricate patterns inspired by Islamic art and Moorish architecture. “It’s a demanding craft,” Chakib explains. “Every piece takes time, skill, and dedication. Nothing is rushed; everything is handmade.” The tools in his workshop are extensions of his own hands—delicate, precise, and relentless.

Today, advancements like electric tools have eased some of the burdens of the craft, but they can never replicate the human soul embedded in every hammer stroke. Chakib is quick to acknowledge their utility but insists on retaining the essence of traditional techniques. “The soul of the artisan is irreplaceable,” he says, his eyes betraying a mix of pride and melancholy.

A Dying Tradition: Damascening in Morocco

The story of Damascening in Morocco is a tale of resilience and decline. Once a thriving craft, it now teeters on the brink of extinction. “In Meknes, there are only six or seven artisans left who practice this art,” Chakib says, his voice tinged with sorrow. The art that once adorned the scabbards of warriors and the treasures of sultans is now at risk of fading into oblivion.

Chakib believes the key to preserving Damascening lies in education. “The state must create a school to teach this craft,” he asserts. His dream is a future where young Moroccans, guided by seasoned masters, breathe new life into the art. He speaks with the fervor of someone who has witnessed the slow erosion of his heritage, determined to reverse the tide.

Tourism, for now, remains the lifeline of Damascening. Chakib’s ability to converse with tourists in their native languages has made him not just an artisan but an ambassador of Moroccan culture. He patiently explains the intricate processes, ensuring every visitor leaves with not just a souvenir but a story.

The Dance of Hands and Hearts

Chakib’s workshop is a theatre of creation. The tools—hammers, chisels, and files—are actors in a centuries-old play, directed by the steady hands of the master artisan. Each piece he creates carries with it the weight of history and the fragility of the present.

He speaks of the craft with reverence, often pausing to demonstrate the delicate techniques. “I started by observing,” he recalls. “For months, I didn’t touch a single tool. I just watched.” This patience, this willingness to surrender to the art, is what sets Chakib apart. His creations are not just objects; they are poems in steel and silver, each stroke a syllable, each pattern a verse.

And yet, Damascening is not without its challenges. The physical toll of the craft is immense. The meticulous precision required can leave hands cramped and eyes strained. But for Chakib, the pain is secondary to the pride of keeping a dying art alive. “Every piece tells a story,” he says. “And as long as I can tell those stories, I will.”

Damascening in Morocco: A Conversation Between Past and Present

In Chakib’s hands, Damascening becomes more than a craft—it is a dialogue between eras. The patterns he etches are echoes of a time when Morocco stood at the crossroads of civilizations, its artisans blending influences from Andalusia, the Maghreb, and beyond.

The craft’s survival, however, is a tenuous thread. Chakib’s life is a testament to the resilience required to keep it alive. From his early days selling artisanal products to his current role as a custodian of Damascening in Morocco, his journey is one of passion and perseverance.

As you leave Chakib’s workshop, a small piece of Damascening in hand, you carry with you more than a token of Morocco. You carry a fragment of its soul, a piece of a story that began long before you and will, if Chakib has his way, endure long after.

Photos of Chakib Hamid are by Suzy Tamimi

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