Amazigh fibulas of North Africa

Dress and jewellery

Amazigh fibulas of North Africa: jewellery and identity

Published June 24, 2025

It’s the most iconic piece of Amazigh jewellery in North Africa: the fibula or clothing fastener. From the Atlantic coast of Morocco to the oases of Libya, Amazigh fibulas are both functional and highly symbolic. What is more, they reflect regional identities, social structures, and even showcase connections between landscape, dress, and daily life. So, let’s have a look at these beautiful objects of adornment!

What are Amazigh fibulas? Use, names & regional styles

What are Amazigh fibulas used for? Fibulas basically serve as fasteners. You’ll find them used on a variety of garments, including outer wraps, shawls, and head coverings. Their forms vary by region and community, ranging from simple functional items to more elaborately worked items that may also carry symbolic meaning.

While you may find them repurposed into pendants, that is not how they were used originally: they really are pins!

That capacity of joining two things together is also why there is also a lot of informal ritual involving fibulas: see more about that here!

A silver and enamel fibula from the Tiznit region, Morocco

A selection of beautiful silver fibulas from the Maghreb, against a brilliant blue background.

What is the correct term for Amazigh fibulas?

The term fibula is obviously not local; it comes from Latin, where it referred broadly to a clasp or brooch used to fasten clothing. The use of garment pins dates back much earlier, though – examples made from metal and bone have been found in Bronze Age contexts across Europe, the Mediterranean, and North Africa.

The specific form most common in North Africa today, the rotating ring-and-pin mechanism, is associated with Roman innovations in clothing fasteners. These Roman-era brooches, widely distributed across the empire, introduced a functional design that remained in use and was adapted across different cultures over time.

While fibula is the standard term used in archaeological and art historical literature, the objects themselves are known by a range of local names in Amazigh communities. In Morocco, they are referred to as tizerzai or tisernas; in Algeria, terms such as adwir or tabzimt are used; and in Tunisia and Libya, they are commonly known as khlel. These vernacular terms reflect linguistic diversity, but also a regional variation in design and use.

Anatomy of a fibula: ring, pin, head, and variation

The most common type of fibula found in North Africa is based on the penannular brooch design. That is a ring that is incomplete or open at one point. A typical fibula consists of three main components:

1. The head: a terminal or decorative element at the end of the pin;

2. The ring: a circular or penannular ring;

3. The pin itself.

These elements are visible in the illustration above.

The large crescent-shaped fibulas of Libya and Tunisia follow the same design, but have no head: in these types, the ring is aggrandized to the point where it also becomes the eye-catcher.

How do you actually fasten a fibula…?

That’s a question I get asked a lot – so, here is how! To fasten a garment, the pin is pushed through two the layers of fabric that you’ll want to secure together. Push the pin through and bring it back to the front by perforating the fabrics again: by pushing it through and through, you’ll end up with the head of the pin and its lower half visible on the outside of your garment. Once in place, rotate the ring so that the pin lies across the gap in the ring. Push the pin through the gap, and twist the ring so the opening moves away from the pin itself. The tension between the ring and the fabric holds the pin securely, preventing it from slipping out. This design allows the fibula to act as both a clasp and a visual feature of the garment.

Here is a quick video showing you how it’s done! (click this link, and then scroll down to the bottom of the page)

Amazigh fibulas and dress

Obviously, fibulas are integrated with the textiles they secure. That in turn tells you a lot about those textiles just by looking at the pins themselves. Heavier, more substantial fibulas are used with robust fabrics, while lighter versions suggest finer or differently structured cloth.

The outer garments they secure are wraps: garments that envelop the body and shoulders. In winter, these would be heavy, wool wraps, and in summer they might be lighter fabrics.

You will notice that the heads of the fibulas are the heaviest part of the piece. That tells you where they would have been placed: not at the upper end, as you often see them in books, but at the lower end. The pins themselves stick out upwards, the head is pointed downwards. That is an important difference between theory and practice: fibulas are almost invariably depicted with their heads upwards and their pins downwards, but that is not how they would have been worn in real life!

How fibulas reflect Amazigh identity

Fibulas are part and parcel of the cultural practices of Amazigh communities. They are not simply adornments, but part of a broader visual and symbolic language that links body, clothing, architecture, and environment. And you know that is how I love to study jewellery: in its cultural context!

Because this allows us to understand how material culture communicates identity, memory, and place, rather than just admiring them as beautiful objects in a showcase.

This interconnectedness is of course very evident in recurring patterns and motifs. The same geometric forms found on fibulas frequently appear on carpets, blankets, pottery, and woodwork, suggesting a shared visual vocabulary across media.

But there is much more. Fibulas offer further insights into the world of their wearers, especially through the design of the pin head or terminal. This is the most visually prominent part of the fibula, and it often serves as a marker of regional or communal identity. Its shape and decoration vary by area, village, or group, allowing the piece to signal belonging and local affiliation.

These terminal forms often reference features from the wearer’s environment. They literally show us what that environment looked like, or what iys wearers considered important.

Some derive from animal forms, for example, the ram’s head motifs found in fibulas worn by the Ihahen of coastal Morocco, which may evoke associations with pastoral life. Others reflect built structures: domed tombs, arched doorways, or the stepped crenellations of kasbah walls.

These visual echoes suggest that fibulas do not only exist in relation to the body, or even just in relation to dress, but also participate in a wider cultural landscape – drawing meaning from the world around them and embedding that meaning into daily dress.

How fabulous is that, when your dress and jewellery fit into your surroundings…?

Amazigh fibulas today: living heritage & revival

Although Amazigh fibulas are no longer commonly worn in daily life, they still carry meaning. They are living heritage, and continue to be produced for ceremonial use, like local festivals, as well as for tourist markets. The fibula itself appears on beauty products, metalwork, and doors. It has grown into a symbol of Amazigh identity, notably in the diaspora – Amazigh fibulas of North Africa are still deeply meaningful and continue to evolve.

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References

Read more on fibulas and their cultural meaning here (not exhaustive, there is much more out there!):

Benfoughal, T. 1997. Bijoux et Bijoutiers de l’ Aurès. CNRS Editions, Paris

Cheylan, G. (ed.) 2007. Coutumes et décors de Tunisie. Ceres Éditions, Tunis

Eudel, P. 1906. Dictionnaire des Bijoux d’Afrique du Nord. Maroc, Algérie, Tunisie, Tripolitaine. Ernest Léroux, Paris

Gargouri-Sethom, S. & J. Pérez 2005. Les Bijoux de Tunisie. Dunes Editions, Tunis El Hafsia

Ghellali, H. 2024. Jewellery and Adornment of Libya. Blikveld Uitgevers Publishers, Zandvoort

Tamzali, W. 1984. Abzim. Parures et Bijoux des femmes d’Algérie. Dessain et Tolra, Entreprise algérienne de presse, Algers

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The Bedouin Silver Jewellery Blog: Sigrid van Roode

Sigrid van Roode is an archeologist, ethnographer and jewellery historian. Her main field of expertise is jewellery from North Africa and Southwest Asia, as well as archaeological and archaeological revival jewellery. She has authored several books on jewellery, and obtained her PhD at Leiden University on jewellery, informal ritual and collections. Sigrid has lectured for the National Museum of Antiquities in Leiden, Turquoise Mountain Jordan, and many others. She provides consultancy and research on jewellery collections for both museums and private collections, teaches courses and curates exhibitions. She is not involved in the business of buying and selling jewellery, and focuses on research, knowledge production, and education only. Sigrid strongly believes in accessibility of knowledge, and aims to provide reliable and trustworthy content: that’s why the Bedouin Silver blog provides references and citations.

Silver grooming sets from Afghanistan: everyday tools with many meanings

by dr. Sigrid van Roode | Objects

Vanity and faith

Silver grooming sets from Afghanistan: everyday tools with many meanings

Published May 27, 2025

Among the many forms of Afghan silver jewellery, one of the most charming is the silver grooming set. You’ll find them every now and then for sale on the Internet, and their description usually does not extend beyond ‘Kuchi grooming set’ or ‘Kuchi earspoon’. At first sight, these small pendants might look like simple trinkets, but they combine multiple roles: they were functional tools for personal care, amulets believed to offer protection, and jewellery worn as part of dress. Exploring them reveals how everyday objects could hold layered meanings in traditional Afghan culture, so let’s have a look at these!

Silver grooming tools from Afghanistan and cultural traditions

What do these tools look like? Typically, you’ll see them as an earspoon and a toothpick suspended from a ring: that is the basic pairing of tools. More elaborate sets also carry a pair of tweezers, they may be combined with other items such as perfume containers or kohl applicators.

Their use is not limited to Afghanistan, you’ll find these tiny items in many cultures around the world. And in all those cultures, their execution and style places them in the realm of jewellery: they have been designed and produced in the same styles as the local jewellery has.

They are small and portable, practical in everyday life, but also for hosting: Janata mentions that wealthier families in Afghanistan would have a set of these in their guest chambers – how’s that for hospitality? [1] The toothpick and earspoon allowed the user to maintain personal hygiene throughout the day, and were worn by both men and women. [2] And there is more to these than just vanity. In staying clean, one was also protecting oneself from the dangers of impurity – both social and spiritual. So, how does that work?

A vintage silver earspoon from Afghanistan against a black background. The earspoon has two sets of tiny bells on either side, and is decorated with red, green and blue glass. Below the image is a caption, clearly listing the photo credentials. The caption reads: Silver earspoon from Afghanistan. Collection Qilada Foundation. Photo by Sigrid van Roode'.

A vintage silver grooming set from Afghanistan against a black background. The set shows an earspoon and a toothpick, both decorated with lots of tiny bells and.red, green and orange glass. Below the image is a caption, clearly listing the photo credentials. The caption reads: Silver grooming set from Afghanistan. Collection Qilada Foundation. Photo by Sigrid van Roode'.

A vintage silver toothpick from Afghanistan against a black background. The toothpick is decorated with red, green and blue glass. Below the image is a caption, clearly listing the photo credentials. The caption reads: Silver toothpick from Afghanistan. Collection Qilada Foundation. Photo by Sigrid van Roode'.

Spiritual and protective roles of Afghan silver grooming sets

You might think these are just vanity sets, aimed at keeping presentable throughout the day. But that is not all they do. In the Islamic tradition, personal hygiene is not a superficial concern. Cleanliness is repeatedly emphasized in religious texts: not only as a virtue, but as a form of protection. It’s believed that jinn are particularly attracted to filth and unclean environments. [3]

In this context, grooming is not just self-care; it’s spiritual defence. These silver tools were made for precisely that purpose: to maintain cleanliness in everyday situations as an act of faith.

But…that is also where the dilemma is.

The dilemma of beauty and the Evil Eye

Because these are pretty things, they may be dangerous. Jinn enjoy dirt, but they also love shining objects. Beauty attracts their jealousy and brings danger to humans. And these silver earspoons, tweezers, toothpicks….they shine!

In many communities across North Africa and Southwest Asia, beauty is not seen as harmless. It draws attention – and attention can bring harm. The concept of the evil eye (see much more about that in this blog article) is widespread, and believed to affect those who are particularly fortunate, healthy, or aesthetically pleasing. Shiny objects, in particular, are thought to attract jinn or malicious spirits, which are drawn to brightness.

And even worse, jinn may possess humans by entering them through the openings in the body: nose, ears, mouth…exactly those places you would be caring for with one of these tools. What if your shining, gleaming earspoon actually guides a jinn to your body?

How to reconcile these two points of view?

From grooming tools to Afghan silver jewellery and amulets

The solution is elegant and simple: they were made with built-in amuletic features. Tiny bells were attached, not just for aesthetic pleasure, but for their sound, intended to scare off harmful spirits. Beads in blue, a colour commonly associated with protective properties in the region, were also common. Red glass insets flash like a warning sign.

In this way, these grooming tools are hybrid objects. They are tools of hygiene and piety, but also talismans of protection. Their ambiguous nature reflects the balance their wearers sought to maintain: to remain clean and healthy, without drawing negative attention through their beauty.

Why Afghan silver grooming sets matter: context is everything

Silver grooming sets from Afghanistan blur the lines between the everyday and the symbolic. They were tools for hygiene, pieces of Afghan silver jewellery, and objects of faith. For the Kuchi and other Afghan communities, their value lay not only in their usefulness but also in their role as protective amulets. They are examples of how the everyday object, in traditional cultures, is rarely just ‘everyday’.

To use an earspoon or toothpick was not a private act of vanity. It has cultural and religious significance, too. It was part of being a clean, pious, and protected person. This dual role of ordinary objects is often overlooked, but once you catch a glimpse of the context they were used in, they make much more sense – and become even more meaningful!

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References

[1] Janata, A. 1981. Silberschmuck aus Afghanistan, Graz, p. 180.

[2] Idem, p. 180.

[3] See my book Silver & Frankincense on how this works, or join the course on Scents of the Middle East

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Verdigris in Middle Eastern jewellery

by dr. Sigrid van Roode | Tips for collectors

What every collector needs to know

Verdigris in Middle Eastern jewellery

Updated June 6th, 2025

So, this happened… Recently, a Yemeni jewellery set came up for sale at an online auction. A friend sent me the listing, and one phrase in the description stopped me mid-sip:

The piece was labelled:

“A vintage metal ornate dress regalia, with decorative chains and turquoise decoration.”

I nearly choked on my coffee.

‘Turquoise decoration’?! No way. That greenish substance was not turquoise. It was verdigris – a corrosive compound that damages jewellery. Calling it a “decoration” is not just misleading – it’s potentially harmful to collectors and collections. The jewellery set in question is shown below: take a good look at that greenish hue, because that is what we’ll zoom in on here.

I made a 5 second reel out of it on Instagram (which got over 25k views) – but this topic needs a little more explanation than a social media caption. So, here’s a blog on verdigris, the Green Monster!

What is verdigris?

Verdigris is a corrosion product that forms on copper, brass, or bronze when these metals are exposed to moisture and air. The word comes from the French vert-de-gris. It means ‘grey-greenish’, and was used as main component in green pigments. Because it is unstable, and reacts with other materials, it ceased to be used in art as soon as other green pigments became available.

In scientific terms, it’s a mixture of copper salts, formed through the reaction of copper with water, oxygen, and carbon dioxide, often catalysed by organic materials like skin oils, textiles, or leather.

Traditional jewellery from North Africa and Southwest Asia often includes silver-copper alloys or decorative elements containing copper or brass. When these metals are exposed to humidity or stored improperly, verdigris can begin to develop. It looks like green crusts, patches, or powdery growths on the surface. The header above this blog post shows you what that looks like, as does the image of the Yemeni jewellery set.

Why is verdigris a problem for Middle Eastern jewellery?

While it may look picturesque (well, to an untrained eye: me, it makes me scream), it’s far from harmless. Verdigris is corrosive and unstable. If left untreated, it will continue to eat away at the underlying metal, weakening structural components, eroding fine details, and compromising the overall integrity of your jewellery.

If one piece shows signs of verdigris, this may indicate its storage conditions are too humid. If you have more than one piece in the same storage conditions, chances are verdigris may develop on those, too. [1] This makes it not just a problem for one piece, but a risk to an entire collection. It’s a nightmare, honestly.

In museum contexts, verdigris is treated as an active conservation concern. For private collectors, the risk is no different. Ignoring it can lead to permanent loss of historical material, diminished value, and potentially hazardous conditions if the corrosion product interacts with skin or textiles.

How to protect your Middle Eastern jewellery collection from verdigris?

Here are 5 things you can do to protect your collection of traditional jewellery from North Africa and Southwest Asia from verdigris:

Learn to identify verdigris

Verdigris appears as a surface deposit—often flaky, waxy, or powdery. It typically forms in crevices or where metal has been in contact with other materials.

Approach vague or overly positive descriptions with caution

Phrases like “turquoise decoration,” “aged patina,” or “natural wear” can mask underlying issues. If an image shows green deposits on a piece of jewellery that traditionally wouldn’t include turquoise, it’s likely corrosion.

Isolate affected items

If you discover verdigris in your own collection, remove the piece and inspect its storage conditions (see below). Wrap it in clean, acid-free paper or cloth and store it in a well-ventilated, dry area until you can address the issue. This is also why you will want to carry out regular inspections of your jewellery, so you can catch it early.

Store your collection correctly

Avoid high humidity. And if you cleaned an item: make sure it is dry through and through before storing it. Don’t use sealed plastic bags or containers, which trap moisture. Ziploc bags are fine, but don’t seal them shut. Use acid-free tissue and breathable materials. Keep metal components from direct contact with skin oils, leather, or synthetic materials that might accelerate corrosion.

Clean with care

Do not scrape or scrub verdigris off with household tools: this may scratch the metal or force corrosion deeper into the surface. Dry brushing or gently dabbing with a cotton swab under professional guidance may be appropriate, but for valuable pieces, always consult a conservator.

See more about cleaning your jewellery here (….and read this blog post first!).

Caring for Middle Eastern jewellery: know your stuff

And finally, a few thoughts…

The misidentification of verdigris as ‘turquoise decoration’ highlights a broader issue: lack of specialized knowledge in non-dedicated auction settings.

Because sellers, especially those listing pieces at generalist or online platforms, do not always have the training to accurately assess traditional jewellery from North Africa and Southwest Asia. Mislabelling corrosion as decorative inlay is so stupendously ignorant that it left me baffled, but you might also see signs of wear and damage described as part of the ‘design’. Now, don’t get me wrong, this is not necessarily out of bad intent! In most cases, it’s simply not-so-blissful ignorance.

But the thing is: the consequences are real.

For collectors, this basically means one thing: buyer beware. It’s essential to develop the skills to recognize materials, assess condition, and interpret seller descriptions critically. Accurately interpreting what you’re seeing (…and what you’re being told!) requires more than just an eye for beauty. It requires contextual knowledge: of materials, techniques, and signs of deterioration.

This is why learning matters. Because every piece tells a story – and it deserves to be heard, not eaten away.

So, thank you for being here and following my jewellery blog: together, we learn and preserve this heritage jewellery for the future!

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References

[1] An earlier version of this blog mentioned that verdigris spreads. A knowledgeable reader of this blog pointed out to me that this is not the case, saying ‘keeping jewellery perfectly dry will prevent verdigris from occurring and prevent existing verdigris from affecting other areas’. Thank you!

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The Bedouin Silver Jewellery Blog: Sigrid van Roode

Oriental woman with sineklik

by dr. Sigrid van Roode | Jewellery & Art

Jewellery and art history

Oriental beauty with sineklik

Published May 24, 2025

Jewellery in paintings — that’s something I always keep an eye on. It tells you not only about the fashion and the painter’s eye for detail, but also about how people at the time viewed dress and adornment. Oriental Woman with Sineklik, painted by Pinel de Grandchamp in 1846, is one such portrait that draws us in with both costume and ornament.

This blog is part of my series on Jewellery and Art, exploring how artists depicted jewellery and dress in portraits and Orientalist paintings. You can also read Portrait of A Syrian woman, Decoding Habiba’s jewellery, and more posts in this series as it grows.

Oriental beauty with sineklik by Pinel de Grandchamp

This article focuses on a single painting, Oriental Beauty with Sineklik (also known as Odalisque à l’éventail) by the French artist Louis-Emile Pinel de Grandchamp, and explores how the jewellery in the painting places the woman painted in her cultural context – and where things went wrong.

Bedouin Silver | Oriental woman with sineklik

Pinel de Grandchamp and the Orientalist tradition

Louis-Emile Pinel de Grandchamp (1834–1894) was a French painter associated with the Orientalist tradition. He spent a significant part of his career in Egypt, where he produced numerous works – and unlike some of his colleagues his paintings were based on direct observation. He mostly painted scenes in Cairo, and these include recognizable architectural details that actually are from Cairo, not a made-up version of a random ‘Oriental’ city. When you see one of his paintings, you recognise the setting as Cairo immediately – at least, I did. [1]

Oriental Beauty with Sineklik is different in that it focuses on the individual sitter and her adornment. There are no details in the background like a building or a recognisable view that tell us where this lady is from, and the title is particularly unhelpful. So, in such portraits, it is the jewellery and dress that tell us where this lady is from!

Oriental beauty with sineklik: jewellery as key to identity

In this painting, a woman is seated against a dark red background, holding a sineklik (fly whisk) in her hand. Her gaze is directed away from the viewer, and she wears a loose white garment, a striped headwrap, and multiple items of jewellery. Although the title refers only to her as an ‘Oriental beauty,’ her adornment offers specific clues about her identity.

The eye-catcher is her gold necklace: composed of repoussé segments and disc pendants. The central pendant is larger, consisting of a crescent-shaped pendant with a disc below it, again framed with dangling discs. This necklace is of a type called kirdan. It is commonly associated with Ottoman jewellery, worn in Cairo during the 19th century. See a few examples of this type of adornment in the gallery above: click to enlarge the images.

Her earrings match the necklace and echo designs from the 19^th century, like for example depicted by Edward Lane [2]

Draped over her left wrist and hand is a strand of large yellow beads. They may be amber or glass, and they echo the look of a misbaha or tasbih, a strand of prayer beads. A similar strand of beads can be seen on the painting Oriental Woman Burning Incense, by Cesare dell’Acqua (1869, also in the gallery above: click to see its details).

Her headwrap, formed from a striped textile and loosely coiled around the head, aligns with styles worn by women in elite Cairene households.

So, that’s what we see: but what does all this mean?

Beyond the title: what ‘Oriental Beauty’ leaves unsaid

Despite the generic title, the woman in the painting is not without identity. Her adornments anchor her in a specific time and place; they firmly situate her in a late Ottoman Egyptian setting. The crescent-shaped necklace, with its repoussé craftsmanship and coin pendants, was typical of Egyptian adornment and is well represented in both photographic archives and surviving examples.

But this painting has its problems as well.

The anonymity of the sitter for example: she is not mentioned by name, and reduced to a very general title. In fact, we don’t even know if this is an actual portrait, or a model that served to create a generic view of that faraway region, ‘the Orient’.

This fits in with broader trends within Orientalist art: it produced very generalized images of “Eastern” subjects. In these works, jewellery and dress were frequently used as symbolic ‘shorthand’, you could say, flattening the layered meaning in jewellery and dress into a singular, romanticized visual language.

Take the strand of prayer beads, for example, dangling from her wrist. For starters, it misses its central bead, and is reduced to ornamentation: within its own cultural and religious context, this would not have been depicted as such.

Add to that the composition of the work: I don’t know if you noticed, and I apologise for drawing your eye to this, but everything seems to be centred around her cleavage. It’s literally the focal point of the painting, and the V-shaped lines of her garment, the handle of the fly whisk and even the perfect vertical line from her earrings through the central element of her necklace end up in her cleavage. I mean, jeez.

So, yes, the jewellery and dress allow us to add more context to this painting than just a random Oriental beauty – but the painting itself leaves viewers to interpret the scene based on partial information and oversimplifications.

Jewellery, dress & identity in Orientalist art

Pinel de Grandchamp’s Oriental Woman with Sineklik is not only an Orientalist portrait; it is also a visual puzzle. While the title centres on an accessory, it is the jewellery and dress that provide the key to interpretation. The kirdan necklace, Egyptian ornamentation, and Ottoman Cairo clothing place the sitter firmly in a cultural context that the label “Oriental beauty” glosses over.

So now that we know all this, what to do?

This painting reminds us how Orientalist art both reveals and conceals. It preserves details of dress and adornment that allow us to reconstruct cultural identity, while at the same time reducing women to symbols of an imagined East. By asking what jewellery tells us — and what the title leaves unsaid — we can approach these portraits with a more critical eye.

The thing is to be aware of that world beyond the artistic frame in which it is delivered to us. And this is where having insights in jewellery and dress can play an important role, too. Awareness of the importance and meaning attached to adornment helps resisting the anonymity imposed by the painting’s title and composition. There are more, and deeper stories to be told than just a woman holding a fly whisk and staring out of an invisible window.

That’s why I do what I do, in running this blog and creating courses to explore just that world, and I’m happy you’re here to join me on that journey!

Other blogs in the series on Jewellery & Art are here:

Decoding Habiba’s Jewellery

Portrait of a Syrian woman by Portaels

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More posts on jewellery, cultures and people? Browse them all here!

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References

[1] See for example this painting, that shows the Ghuriya complex on the main street of Cairo’s souq: it still looks like this today https://www.christies.com/en/lot/lot-6154449

[2] Lane, E.W. 1842. An Account of the Manners and Customs of the Modern Egyptians. The Definitive 1860 Edition. The American University in Cairo Press, Cairo (2003).

The Bedouin Silver blog gives credit where credit is due! Transparent referencing and citing sources helps us all grow. Would you like to do the same and quote this article? Here’s how:

The Bedouin Silver Jewellery Blog: Sigrid van Roode

Mermaid imagery in Egyptian amulets: protection & meaning

by dr. Sigrid van Roode | Magic & Amulets

Water spirits

Mermaid imagery in Egyptian amulets: protection & meaning

Updated September 14, 2025

The terrifying truth behind mermaid imagery! At the end of the 19^th century, silver amulets with images of mermaids were widely available in Egypt’s jewellery souks. In Egyptian folklore, water spirits and protective amulets went hand in hand: images of mermaids were believed to guard against illness, child mortality, and misfortune. Their blend of folklore, protection, and jewellery makes mermaid imagery on amulets especially fascinating. Why were these so popular, and what world hides behind the use of these things?

Water spirits, the Nile, and mermaid beliefs in Egyptian folklore

Obviously, the Nile has always been a defining factor for Egypt. It’s a bit of a cliché, but Egypt would not exist without the river. Up until the construction of the Aswan Dam in 1902, Egypt was dependent upon the yearly flooding of the river to deposit fertile soil on the banks of the Nile, and much of daily life on the river banks was connected to it. This vital significance has resulted in many gods, water spirits, ceremonies and rituals being associated with the Nile from Pharaonic times up until the present.

There are tons of water spirits in both ancient and contemporary folklore tales, and in this article, I’d like to zoom in on the mermaids. Because these are not as friendly and pretty as their depictions would have you believe!

Disease, child mortality and mermaid amulets

As early as 1916, Meyerhof brings up that water spirits are much feared as a source of disease. [1] You only need to look at the reality of Nile floodings to see how much truth there is in this statement: although the flood deposited much-needed soil for agriculture, when the water slowly withdrew, pools of stagnant water with rotting plants were an ideal environment for rats, mosquitoes and other creatures that spread disease.

And that is where the mermaids come in. This same author lists the mermaid Safīna right along with the Qarina in the category of female ‘demons’. Specifically, he notes that she is, again much like the Qarina, responsible for harm brought upon children.

This fear of mermaids killing children was very persistent in Cairo. Drieskens even records recent Cairene belief in a mermaid living in the Nile, determined to kill people: the negative associations attached to the mermaid apparently still linger.[2]

That fear was based both in drowning, and in disease: water-borne diseases such as salmonella, cholera, typhoid fever and parasitic infections affected children under the age of 5 signifcantly. [3]

As with anything that threatens children, here again reverse magic is practiced, too: mermaids were also assumed to help in cases of infertility – if they felt like it. Water spirits are extremely capricious, and can’t really be trusted.

The same ambivalence and connection to fertility beliefs can be seen in Nigerian river spirit Mami Wata and Moroccan water spirit Lalla Aicha Bahriya.

Mermaid imagery on Egyptian silver amulets: form, function, symbol

So, what about those amulets? At the end of the 19^th and early 20^th century, mermaid imagery often occurred on amulets. These were made in silver, readily available and were meant to protect the wearer from Safīna. [4] The mermaid amulets exist in various forms: embossed, pear-shaped amulets with a mermaid, the image of a mermaid engraved in a pendant, or as appliques to be sewn on to clothing.

Most of the time, the mermaids are depicted as we know them: a female with the tail of a fish. They are adorned with jewellery, hold lotus flowers or papyrus stalks, and look much friendlier than they are. That is also a form of magic: by depicting these scary creatures as beautiful and friendly, perhaps they would turn into benign beings….there’s always hope!

But: not all of them look pleasant. A few early pendants show mermaids with bald heads, or only a few strands of hair. They look considerably more terrifying in comparison to the well-coiffed mermaids that form the majority of the amulets.

Visualizing water spirits: mermaid amulets as reflection of everyday Egyptian life

The appearance of mermaid imagery in Egyptian amulets is more than a decorative flourish. It reflects a wider system of folk belief, protection, and everyday symbolism. The whimsical and volatile nature of the river spirits mirrors the realities of living with a river that has the power to nurture, but also to kill.

And when you look at amulets as a reflection of that everyday reality, this is where the true stories begin to unfold themselves. These amulets gave visible form to concerns about disease, fertility, and the dangers of the Nile: a simple silver piece of jewellery with a mermaid engraving carried with it a whole world of meaning — at once amulet, ornament, and expression of belief. I think that is the greatest power they have!

Amulets and charms in jewellery: learn to decode jewellery yourself!

If you are intrigued by the history, meaning, and traditions behind amuletic jewellery from North Africa and Southwest Asia, an in-depth exploration awaits! The online course on Amulets & Charms delves into the fascinating world of talismans, charms, and protective adornments, offering detailed insights into their cultural contexts and historical significance. Whether you are a collector, a jewellery enthusiast, or simply curious, this course provides the tools to deepen your understanding and appreciation.

Click here to see more, and enroll today to uncover the hidden stories behind these remarkable objects – you could be watching the first episode in 10 minutes from now!

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References

[1] Meyerhof 1916, p. 317-318 (and see also p. 314)

[2] Drieskens 2008, p. 102

[3] El-Kowrany, S. et al. 2016. See the article here: https://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S2090123215001137

[4] Meyerhof 1916, p. 319.

The Bedouin Silver blog gives credit where credit is due! Transparent referencing and citing sources helps us all grow. Would you like to do the same and quote this article? Here’s how:

The Bedouin Silver Jewellery Blog: Sigrid van Roode

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