It was an afternoon in early March 2021, and the weather was beautiful, as it often is in spring in this region of the Rif, Morocco. It must have been around 5 p.m. when a taxi, an old white Mercedes from another era, pulled up in front of an iron gate after a bumpy drive through the village. A middle-aged couple stepped out. The man, in his sixties, was dressed in trousers, a shirt, and a cap, while the woman wore a navy blue long dress and a white scarf.

The taxi driver had picked them up from the airport. He placed their suitcases on the ground, received his fare, greeted them, and turned back. She had imagined this moment hundreds of times, but what she saw was unexpected.

Before the taxi stopped, she had already spotted the zāwiya—a five-story building, the only one of its kind in the village. Above the roof was a sign in Arabic reading “al-zāwiyya al-karkariyya,” and higher up, another simply said “Allāh.”

As soon as she got out of the taxi, she looked around. In front of her was a large square, about 20 meters in diameter. The ground was covered with sand, pebbles, and dry plants. Surrounding this square stood a few unfinished cement houses with no notable architectural features. There was no greenery. A few children were playing and laughing. The scent of burning wood filled the air. In the distance, a group of people sat on the ground, dressed in patched cloaks, gathered around a fire, the source of the scent. At the center of the group, directly in front of the couple, was a man with a graying beard, his head covered with a scarf, cleaning sheep heads.

She focused more closely on the group and realized it was him, Sidi Shaykh, at the center. She had known him for two years and had taken the bayʿa nearly a year earlier without ever meeting him in person. She had counted the days and nights awaiting this encounter. Her husband, however, had already visited in January 2021.

Throughout the journey, she had tried to imagine this first meeting, but she had never envisioned it like this. She stood frozen, her heart pounding, and tears streamed down her cheeks. Two young men separated from the group and ran toward them. They were her two eldest sons, who had been living in renunciation (tajrid) at the zāwiya for over a year, and she hadn’t seen them since.

They embraced their father, who had gone ahead to greet Sidii Shaykh, and then came to her. They each hugged her tightly and kissed her, but she could only see Sidi Shaykh, who had now risen and was walking toward her husband. After exchanging greetings and embraces, her husband and Sidi Shaykh approached her. She lowered her head, still weeping. He reached her, smiling, welcomed her with his familiar and warm voice, placed his right hand on her head, looked at the two young men, and instructed them to take the luggage and accompany their mother to the fourth floor through the women’s entrance on the other side of the zāwiya.

She was so overwhelmed she said nothing. Her children picked up the luggage, rang the doorbell, and a woman’s voice asked through the intercom who they were. They answered, and the door opened. As they ascended floor by floor, still followed by their mother, they sang loudly, “lā ilāha illā Allāh.” It was a signal for the female seekers (faqīrāt) to know men were approaching through the stairs. She followed, still dizzy from the encounter with Sidi Shaykh. When they reached the fourth floor, her eldest son, Sidi mohamed, called for Lalla Ḥafṣiyya.

She came running to meet them. They introduced their mother, placed the luggage in the hallway, kissed their mother again, and left, still singing “lā ilāha illā Allāh” until they reached the building’s entrance. Lalla Ḥafṣiyya led her to the room used as a mosque for the faqīrāt, asked what she would like to drink, warmly welcomed her again, and then left to attend to her duties.

From time to time, small children would peek into the room, stare at the stranger, then leave without a word. At the time of the Maghrib prayer, a few faqīrāt descended from the fifth floor to pray with Sidi Shaykh via the loudspeaker in the mosque, followed by the daily litany (wird) with the male seekers (fuqarā), and then the night (ʿIshāʾ) prayer.

Later, Lalla Ḥafṣiyya invited her to dinner, apologizing for leaving her alone earlier and explaining that all the faqīrāt were exhausted from thoroughly cleaning the women’s section following its repainting. Dinner was served in a small room near the kitchen. A few faqīrāt sat around the low table, and after some time, a beautiful young woman entered with the children and joined them, her face brightened by a warm smile.

She had barely started eating when a woman’s voice called out, “Lalla Najāt!” several times. The young woman left almost running. The stranger looked toward Lalla Ḥafṣiyya, who smiled knowingly and realized she hadn’t recognized Sidi Shaykh’s wife. She was confused and unsure of what to do, but Lalla Ḥafṣiyya laughed. She explained that Lalla Najāt had given her the second room on the right on the fifth floor, next to the two seclusions (khulwa). She settled there with her luggage and greeted Lalla Ḥafṣiyya. It was her first night at the zāwiya.

The true meeting with Sidi Shaykh took place the next morning. The stranger, who had come intending to spend two weeks at the zāwiya, ended up staying three months and experienced the best moments of her life.

It was within this zāwiya, at the age of 60, that she discovered what no one had taught her throughout her life—religious leadership through humility and example. She learned that Sidi Shaykh, the walī khatm (seal) of this century, who counts over two million disciples across seven continents, was exceptional in every way. Though he is the holder and distributor of the divine light granted to him by our beloved Prophet, peace be upon him, he personally takes care of everyone and everything at the zāwiya.

Amid the daily dhikr that continues day and night, as well as the daily lessons (dars), Sidi Shaykh is always welcoming, kind, attentive, and gentle. His office is always full. He treats desperate people, gives advice to those who seek it, and encourages both the young and old to excel in their studies or projects and strive for excellence in all fields. He welcomes everyone equally—the destitute, the poor, the ignorant, doctors, lawyers, engineers, the wealthy, and ministers—all coming from various places with the sole aim of unburdening themselves of the loads they have carried throughout their lives and revitalizing themselves near our guiding Shaykh.

The divine light is, above all, this: love and service for humanity, all of Allāh’s creatures, and especially the people of light. Sidi Shaykh has been teaching this to his disciples since 2007. It is at the zāwiya that the ḥadīth of our Prophet, peace be upon him, comes to life:

“…Among Allāh’s servants, there are those whom the prophets and martyrs are envious.” They asked, “Who are they, O Messenger of Allāh? Perhaps we may love them.” He said, “They are people who love one another through the light of Allāh, without kinship or affiliation…” (al-Tirmidhī)

It is in the zāwiya that this ḥadīth is realized in this world. It is also through the companionship of Sidi Shaykh and his disciples that the verse from Sūrat al-Raḥmān, “Each day He is [involved] in a new matter (kulla yawmin huwa fī sha’n)” (Qur’an 55:29), comes alive through the example of the Shaykh. Sidi Shaykh is at times a teacher, mason, worker, cook, father, friend, but above all, a guide to divine light on the path of Allāh through these manifestations. His family—his father, brothers, wife, and children—have long known Sidi Shaykh’s mission and cooperate with him wholeheartedly. This companionship teaches us that Allāh continuously redirects us to the Truth through every manifestation we encounter and have encountered in our lives. Yet, it is often our heedlessness that keeps us unaware of this divine guidance.

This blending of spiritual leadership with everyday tasks reflects the essence of the Karkari approach: the divine light is not confined to moments of ritual but must shine through every action, no matter how simple. The Shaykh’s humility in embodying this truth transforms the zāwiya into a living school of divine love, where service, presence, and devotion converge seamlessly. Here, disciples learn that walking toward Allāh means discovering Him in the smallest acts of sincerity and care—for the family of the Prophet and for one another as fellow disciples.

The stranger, who became a member of the Karkari family, learned all this, and much more, during her unexpected stay at the zāwiya…