05-07-2025
Hand over machine: Kurdish artisan keeps misbaha craft alive
Shafaq News – Al-Sulaymaniyah
Seated on the pavement near the Grand Mosque in Al-Sulaymaniyah, Jabbar Karim has spent more than two decades quietly arranging rows of handcrafted prayer beads—each one shaped by hand, each strand a reflection of patience, devotion, and tradition.
Now in his sixties, Karim is among the last artisans in the city still producing misbahas—Islamic prayer beads—using entirely manual tools. His craft begins not at the workbench, but in the mountains, where he gathers qazwan, a rare hardwood that must be dried for a full year before it can be cut, shaped, and polished.
While mass-produced beads flood local markets, Karim's approach is slow and deliberate. He owns no storefront, relies on no advertising, and avoids social media altogether. 'My work is built bead by bead, in silence,' he says. 'It's not for show. It's for meaning.'
Each misbaha he creates is made with tools passed down from his father or fashioned by hand. The wood is carved, drilled, smoothed with stone, and strung together without a single machine. He sees value not in the material itself, but in the labor it carries. 'The worth of a misbaha is in the time it takes,' he explains. 'Not in its selling price.'
Though amber (kahrab) misbahas—imported from Poland or Germany—can fetch over a million dinars, Karim has never followed market trends. He prefers the scent, feel, and character of qazwan, which he says holds something more enduring: 'It smells like the mountain—and like my hands.'
Demand for his beads rises during Ramadan and the Hajj season, when many seek misbahas for spiritual comfort. 'Some customers return a year later just to say the scent of the wood never faded,' he recalls with a quiet smile.
Markets are now filled with inexpensive plastic imports, mostly from China—bright, uniform, and machine-made. Karim knows most passersby will choose convenience over craft. Still, he remains where he has always been, crafting one bead at a time.
