The Soul of the Sea: A Journey Through Historic Jeddah, the Gateway to Makkah

The air in Historic Jeddah, Al-Balad, is thick with the ghosts of centuries. It carries the scent of cardamom and myrrh from the open-air souqs, the salty tang of the nearby Red Sea, and the lingering perfume of devotion from millions of pilgrims who have passed through its gates. To walk its narrow, winding alleys is to step into a living manuscript, where every coral-stone wall and intricately carved wooden roshan tells a story. This is not merely an old town; it is the historical lung of a nation and the worldly threshold to the spiritual heart of Islam. Its story is one of tides and tribes, of faith and fortune, a narrative that begins long before the first call to prayer ever echoed across its shores.

Echoes Before the Dawn: A Pre-Islamic Harbor

Long before it became the celebrated gateway to Makkah, the land that would become Jeddah was a quiet witness to the rhythms of the Red Sea. In the pre-Islamic era, known as the Jahiliyyah or the “Age of Ignorance,” this stretch of coastline was a modest outpost, a place of fishermen and small-time traders. Archaeological evidence suggests human settlement here for millennia, but its recorded history begins with the arrival of the Banu Quda’a tribe. They were drawn to the natural harbor, a small indentation in the coastline that offered shelter from the open sea, and they established a humble fishing village more than 2,500 years ago.

Life was dictated by the elements. The sun was a relentless master, the desert a vast and unforgiving neighbor, and the sea a source of both sustenance and peril. The men of Quda’a would venture out in simple boats, their lives intertwined with the currents and the seasonal migrations of fish. The community’s culture was forged in this crucible of scarcity and resilience. It was a society bound by kinship, where the strength of the tribe was the ultimate guarantor of survival. Their traditions, poems, and oral histories spoke of the sea’s generosity and its wrath, of the stars that guided them home, and of the communal bonds that made life in this arid landscape possible. This early settlement, while not a major center on the bustling frankincense routes that crisscrossed Arabia, was nonetheless a node in a network of coastal communities, a quiet harbor dreaming of a greater purpose.

A Name Whispered by Legend

Even its name is steeped in antiquity. The word “Jeddah” itself is a subject of beautiful debate. Some scholars argue it means “shore” or “seacoast,” a straightforward description of its geography. But a more captivating tradition holds that it derives from Jaddah, the Arabic word for “grandmother.” This interpretation is tied to a profound and deeply held belief that this very land is the final resting place of Eve, the grandmother of all humanity. For centuries, a site known as the Tomb of Eve stood in Jeddah, a revered landmark that, while its physical structure is now gone, has forever imbued the city with a sense of primordial connection to the origins of the human story. Whether named for the shore or for the mother of mankind, the name itself anchors the city in a timeless narrative of place and lineage.

The Caliph’s Decree: Forging the Gates of Faith

The destiny of the small fishing village was irrevocably altered by a single, momentous decision in the 7th century. After the advent of Islam and the establishment of the Caliphate, the holy city of Makkah saw a burgeoning number of pilgrims undertaking the Hajj. The existing port for Makkah was a small, less accessible coastal town to the south called Al-Shu’aybah. It was functional but inadequate for the growing needs of the faithful who arrived by sea from Egypt, Africa, and beyond.

In the year 647 CE, the third Caliph of Islam, Uthman ibn Affan, a companion of the Prophet Muhammad, stood on the shores of Jeddah. With deep foresight, he recognized the strategic and spiritual potential of its natural deep-water harbor. He officially decreed that Jeddah would henceforth be the primary seaport for Makkah. This was not merely an administrative change; it was a sacred reorientation. In an instant, the identity of the city was transformed. It was no longer just a home for fishermen; it was now a consecrated gateway, the first piece of holy territory a pilgrim would touch upon arriving by sea. Its purpose was now divine service. The city’s inhabitants were no longer just traders of fish and pearls, but hosts to the guests of God.

This new role sparked a spiritual and architectural metamorphosis. A city began to rise from the sand and coral, one designed for welcome and passage. Its layout, with alleys twisting and turning to provide shade and catch the sea breeze, was a practical response to the climate but also created an intimate, human-scale environment. Mosques were built, like the revered Al-Shafi’i Mosque, whose minaret has stood as a beacon of faith for over a thousand years. The city itself became a waqf—a living endowment—dedicated to the service of pilgrims. The very stones seemed to absorb the prayers and hopes of the millions who walked upon them en route to the Kaaba.

A City Built of Coral and Faith

To accommodate its new status and growing population of merchants and pilgrims, a unique architectural language developed in Jeddah. Lacking mountains for quarrying stone or forests for timber, the Jiddawis turned to the sea itself. They harvested limestone coral from the Red Sea’s reefs, known as mangabi, and cut it into large blocks. These porous, fossil-rich stones were ideal for the hot, humid climate, allowing the buildings to breathe. The mortar that bound them was a mixture of local clay and lime, creating sturdy structures that have endured for centuries.

The most iconic feature of this architecture is the roshan, the magnificent, multi-storied wooden bay windows that adorn the facades of the old merchant houses. Crafted from fine teak and Java wood, imported from India and Southeast Asia, these were masterpieces of design and social function. The intricate latticework allowed cool breezes to flow into the homes while shielding the inhabitants, particularly the women of the household, from public view, upholding cultural values of privacy and modesty. From behind these screens, life could be observed without being part of the public gaze. The roshan became a symbol of the city’s identity—a fusion of local ingenuity, global trade connections, and deep-seated social traditions. Towering houses, some seven stories high, like the famed Nassif House, became landmarks. Built in the late 19th century by Sheikh Omar Effendi Nassif, a powerful governor and merchant, this house was so grand it was often called “the house with the tree” because it had the only tree in the neighborhood. For a time, it served as a royal residence for King Abdulaziz Al Saud, the founder of modern Saudi Arabia, further cementing Al-Balad’s place at the center of the region’s history.

The Currents of Empire and Commerce

As the designated port of Makkah, Jeddah became a jewel coveted by empires. Over the next millennium, it fell under the sway of the Umayyads, Abbasids, Fatimids, Ayyubids, and Mamluks, each leaving an indelible mark. The city’s strategic importance made it a nexus of both spiritual journeys and earthly commerce. Its souqs became vibrant melting pots where pilgrims from Africa traded leather goods for spices from the East Indies, and merchants from Persia bargained for incense from Yemen. The air was a cacophony of languages—Arabic, Swahili, Persian, Gujarati, and Malay—all united by the common purposes of faith and trade.

This prosperity, however, also brought peril. In the early 16th century, the rising naval power of the Portuguese empire threatened the Red Sea trade routes, launching raids on Muslim shipping. In response, the Mamluk Sultan of Egypt, Al-Ashraf Qansuh al-Ghawri, commissioned a formidable defensive wall to be built around Jeddah. Under the command of his admiral, Hussein Al-Kurdi, a massive stone wall was erected, fortified with watchtowers and cannons. This wall encircled the growing city, with gates that were locked at nightfall, protecting its inhabitants and the precious caravans of pilgrims within. The construction of this wall marked a new chapter in Jeddah’s story, transforming it from an open port into a fortified citadel, a sanctuary guarding the approach to Islam’s holiest city.

The Souqs: The Beating Heart of the City

Within these walls, life pulsed with vibrant energy, nowhere more so than in its traditional markets, or souqs. These were not just places of commerce but the social and cultural arteries of Al-Balad. Souq Al-Alawi, the most famous of them all, is a long, covered corridor that snakes through the heart of the old city. For centuries, its stalls have been piled high with a sensory feast: shimmering silks from India, fragrant oud wood from Cambodia, frankincense from Oman, and a kaleidoscope of spices—saffron, cloves, and black pepper. Here, pilgrims would purchase their provisions, souvenirs, and the simple white Ihram garments for their journey to Makkah. The souq was a place of human connection, where stories were exchanged over cups of strong, cardamom-infused coffee, where deals were sealed with a handshake, and where the diverse threads of the global Muslim community were woven together into a single, colorful tapestry.

The Modern Tide and the Preservation of Memory

The 20th century brought waves of change that lapped at the ancient coral walls of Al-Balad. The discovery of oil in Saudi Arabia brought unprecedented wealth and rapid modernization. Jeddah began to expand outward at a dizzying pace, with new suburbs, wide highways, and modern high-rises transforming the landscape. For a time, Al-Balad was seen as a relic of a bygone era. Many of its wealthy merchant families moved to more spacious, modern homes, and the grand old houses fell into disrepair. In a symbolic and poignant moment in 1947, the city’s defensive walls were torn down to allow for urban expansion, leaving only the gates as silent reminders of the city’s fortified past.

But the spirit of Al-Balad refused to fade. In recent decades, a profound realization of its immense cultural and historical value has taken root. A new generation of Saudis, alongside the government, began to see the old city not as an obstacle to modernity but as its soul. This culminated in 2014 when Historic Jeddah, Al-Balad, was inscribed as a UNESCO World Heritage site, a global recognition of its unique universal value.

Today, a painstaking and passionate restoration is underway. The crumbling coral walls are being reinforced, the magnificent roshan are being carefully repaired, and the old merchant houses are being reborn as art galleries, boutique hotels, cultural centers, and cafes. Festivals now bring life back to the ancient squares, and artists and thinkers are once again making their homes in its historic alleyways. The past is not being rebuilt as a museum piece; it is being re-infused with life, ensuring that the heart of Jeddah continues to beat strongly.

To walk through Al-Balad today is to feel the presence of all who have come before. It is to hear the faint echo of a thousand years of prayers in the call of the muezzin, to see the legacy of global trade in the intricate woodwork of a balcony, and to feel the enduring spirit of hospitality in the warm greetings of its people. It remains what it has been for over fourteen centuries: a place of passage, a haven of welcome, and the timeless, enduring gateway for all who seek the sacred city of Makkah. It is the Bride of the Red Sea, her beauty not diminished by age, but deepened by the stories she holds within her coral heart.