Ramadan Melodies
Before going offline last year, we drafted this Ramadan post. Cleaning out old files this morning, we found it and as we're just a few months away from Ramadan '08, we figured we toss this up on the blog. Might even inspire us to put up some new pictures, who knows . . .
Last year, I fear we chronicled Ramadan from an outsider's perspective ad infinitum, so we're not going to bore with the rehash. This year, however, we've been privy to a new tradition that bears mentioning. Last night, we had a dinner party and midway through the meal, as the White Stripes were blasting from the iPod and we were tucking into duck salad with a side of potato galette, the cool evening air was pierced by the sound of a live flute player. It was if he was serenading us from within our own courtyard, so loud and clear was his playing. Sam rushed to the courtyard to look around and up towards the terrace, fearing someone had scaled our walls To-Catch-a-Thief-style. No agile musician was to be seen. But the flute music continued for about a half hour, just loud enough to drown out the Amy Winhouse and U2 tracks on our playlist.
And again tonight over leftovers, Sam and I, each typing away on emails at the dinner table, were surprised to hear the flutist return at 9 p.m. sharp for an encore performance. The volume rose and fell as if our wind player were positioning himself in different windows of the mosque with each refrain. It lasted 10 minutes or so and made us realize how much we appreciate the "live" quality of our mosque, at which the prayer is called by a real person five times each day (7 times during Ramadan) instead of by a recorded muezin, as in many other Arab countries.
Live and in concert, that about describes our living arrangement, for better or worse.
Last year, I fear we chronicled Ramadan from an outsider's perspective ad infinitum, so we're not going to bore with the rehash. This year, however, we've been privy to a new tradition that bears mentioning. Last night, we had a dinner party and midway through the meal, as the White Stripes were blasting from the iPod and we were tucking into duck salad with a side of potato galette, the cool evening air was pierced by the sound of a live flute player. It was if he was serenading us from within our own courtyard, so loud and clear was his playing. Sam rushed to the courtyard to look around and up towards the terrace, fearing someone had scaled our walls To-Catch-a-Thief-style. No agile musician was to be seen. But the flute music continued for about a half hour, just loud enough to drown out the Amy Winhouse and U2 tracks on our playlist.
And again tonight over leftovers, Sam and I, each typing away on emails at the dinner table, were surprised to hear the flutist return at 9 p.m. sharp for an encore performance. The volume rose and fell as if our wind player were positioning himself in different windows of the mosque with each refrain. It lasted 10 minutes or so and made us realize how much we appreciate the "live" quality of our mosque, at which the prayer is called by a real person five times each day (7 times during Ramadan) instead of by a recorded muezin, as in many other Arab countries.
Live and in concert, that about describes our living arrangement, for better or worse.
posted by The Dowe-Sandes at
2:07 PM
1 Comments
