27-05-2025
Whispers of history return: Sunlight touches Marjan Mosque's domes once more
Shafaq News/ Along Baghdad's al-Rasheed Street, where the clatter of commerce fades into the hum of history, stands a structure nearly erased by time.
Just steps from the Central Bank and al-Rafidain Bank, the Marjan Mosque, once a cradle of faith and scholarship, had vanished behind encroachments and decay.
Old shopkeepers in the nearby markets would wave vaguely toward its direction. 'It's back there, behind the stalls... buried under the years.'
For decades, the mosque's domes and arched gate, once alive with recitation and scholarly discourse, stood waterlogged, cracked, and quietly deteriorating.
But now, scaffolding rises against the skyline like a reclaiming of memory.
Constructed in 1356 CE, the Marjan Mosque—also known as al-Madrasa al-Marjania—is one of Baghdad's oldest Islamic landmarks. Its three domes, resting on graceful arches, have witnessed centuries of prayer, war, and transformation.
At its peak, the mosque served as both a house of worship and a center of learning. Within its walls, luminaries such as al-Hajj Musa Smayka, Sheikh Mahmoud al-Alusi, his son Numan, and grandson Mahmoud Shukri taught, studied, and preserved a tradition of inquiry and piety.
The mosque spans nearly 1,500 square meters and can accommodate 1,200 worshippers. Its main gate—engraved with intricate arabesques and geometric stonework—remains one of Baghdad's most striking surviving examples of medieval Islamic architecture.
Despite a significant restoration in 1973, the structure deteriorated in recent decades; leaks compromised its foundations, and trash gathered in its corners. Public outcry grew against the neglect of the city's heritage.
In recent weeks, the Ministry of Culture and the Sunni Endowment launched a new phase of restoration – illegal structures were cleared, and water damage is being addressed.
Officials say the goal is not merely physical preservation but a revival of identity—a return of the mosque to Baghdad's spiritual and cultural landscape.
The scent of dust still hangs in the air, but so does the quiet rhythm of tools and voices. The Marjan Mosque, once forgotten, now stirs again in the city's memory.
