| General Non-Fiction posted March 8, 2022 |
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Life in a Moslem country
Hearing the call, day and night!
by Wendy G
"Mum, what's happening?"
We all shot awake, nerves jangling. The three children rushed in, wide-eyed, frightened. I struggled to awareness.
This was no bird call, this was not roosters crowing gladly to greet the day, not the sound of the laughing kookaburras at home in Australia.
Then I remembered. The call to prayer from the nearby mosques – by loud speakers.
It was dawn, time for Fajr, the first of five prayer sessions for the day. It begins at true dawn when the morning light appears across the full width of the sky —and ends at sunrise, usually around twenty minutes later, but variable with the season.
This was the sound of the prayer chants by the muezzin at the mosques, leading all Moslems in prayer, prostrate on their prayer mats, and facing towards Mecca.
After the first few days the frequency and volume of the prayers became second nature.
More questions followed as time went on."Why?" was frequent. So unlike what they knew regarding prayer.
"Why do they face Mecca? What is Mecca? Where is it?" asked Anna and Bella, "And why do they have ceremonial washing before praying? Why don't we?"
Joe was too small to formulate his questions. For him at just four, he had still been trying to figure out life in Australia.
The children accepted this huge cultural and religious difference. They were learning about our own Christian faith, but also to respect the faith of others. Every single day brought new personal growth experiences for Anna, Bella and Joe, as well as for us.
The mosques were beautiful domed structures, often white or cream marble, with ornate geometric designs; the complexity and symmetry were very pleasing aesthetically. They were the religious, social and cultural centres for the neighbourhood, for the strict Moslem population.
Yes, we adjusted to the prayer calls, and learned to organise our lives around them.
Shopping became a family affair, unlike in Australia, and that too revolved around the prayer times – or it could take considerably longer.
As women were not permitted to drive, we waited for our husbands to return from work, to be both our drivers and our appropriate male escorts in public. So, therefore, children came as well!
"We'll wear our abayas too! And Joe, put on your little white thobe! Mum, it will be evening ... don't forget your headscarf! " announced Anna, the born organiser. It was like playing "dress-ups". My black silk scarf with a fine gold edging was sufficiently respectful. Foreign women did not need to wear a veil.
It was difficult for the girls to be inconspicuous, but impossible for Joe with his blond hair and blue eyes. The Saudi men would chuckle and pretend to snip off his white eyelashes. He would rush behind my flowing abaya. I, of course, kept my eyes lowered, gaze averted, as it was considered provocative to look at a man.
Our favourite local supermarket was "Ted and Fred's" (in our Australian lingo), also known as T and F – for the Arabic names Tamimi and Fouad. The atmosphere was congenial, and we were able to get food from around the world – at a price.
However, we needed to fit our shopping in between the afternoon prayer call and the sunset one. Otherwise everything closed. We were either "shut out" of shops, or "shut in", but could not be served until prayer time was finished.
We found it best to not walk around. The religious police were everywhere, and zealous for respect for these prayer times – suspicious of the corrupting influence of foreigners. We were wary of their canes. Fidgety children had to be kept contained.
After a busy shopping time there usually came a pleading request, because ... of course it was close to dinner time!
"What's for dinner? Can we PLEASE have Yemeni chicken tonight?"
Yemeni chicken and rice – our fast food treat!
The rice! Cooked with cardamoms and cloves – what a delicious aroma! More rice than a family of five could eat, for just three dollars. Even thinking about it brings back the fragrance! The chicken, with a wonderful array of spices, was barbecued on a rotisserie set by the side of the road.
Colonel Sanders had no idea of how to cook a chicken, compared to these dear Yemeni men, with whom we became friends. Communication was mainly by pointing and smiling, with a little Arabic and a little English thrown in. The Yemeni men, gentle and generous, often added some savoury pastries for the children as a treat. Children were very special to them. We were glad to support their enterprises, as they struggled to send money home to relatives in Yemen.
Shopping was actually a fun time - but what excitement when we went to the suqs – the exotic Aladdin's Cave markets of world-wide fame ….
Until we heard about Nancy!
Book of the Month contest entry
"Mum, what's happening?"
We all shot awake, nerves jangling. The three children rushed in, wide-eyed, frightened. I struggled to awareness.
This was no bird call, this was not roosters crowing gladly to greet the day, not the sound of the laughing kookaburras at home in Australia.
Then I remembered. The call to prayer from the nearby mosques – by loud speakers.
It was dawn, time for Fajr, the first of five prayer sessions for the day. It begins at true dawn when the morning light appears across the full width of the sky —and ends at sunrise, usually around twenty minutes later, but variable with the season.
This was the sound of the prayer chants by the muezzin at the mosques, leading all Moslems in prayer, prostrate on their prayer mats, and facing towards Mecca.
After the first few days the frequency and volume of the prayers became second nature.
More questions followed as time went on."Why?" was frequent. So unlike what they knew regarding prayer.
"Why do they face Mecca? What is Mecca? Where is it?" asked Anna and Bella, "And why do they have ceremonial washing before praying? Why don't we?"
Joe was too small to formulate his questions. For him at just four, he had still been trying to figure out life in Australia.
The children accepted this huge cultural and religious difference. They were learning about our own Christian faith, but also to respect the faith of others. Every single day brought new personal growth experiences for Anna, Bella and Joe, as well as for us.
The mosques were beautiful domed structures, often white or cream marble, with ornate geometric designs; the complexity and symmetry were very pleasing aesthetically. They were the religious, social and cultural centres for the neighbourhood, for the strict Moslem population.
Yes, we adjusted to the prayer calls, and learned to organise our lives around them.
Shopping became a family affair, unlike in Australia, and that too revolved around the prayer times – or it could take considerably longer.
As women were not permitted to drive, we waited for our husbands to return from work, to be both our drivers and our appropriate male escorts in public. So, therefore, children came as well!
"We'll wear our abayas too! And Joe, put on your little white thobe! Mum, it will be evening ... don't forget your headscarf! " announced Anna, the born organiser. It was like playing "dress-ups". My black silk scarf with a fine gold edging was sufficiently respectful. Foreign women did not need to wear a veil.
It was difficult for the girls to be inconspicuous, but impossible for Joe with his blond hair and blue eyes. The Saudi men would chuckle and pretend to snip off his white eyelashes. He would rush behind my flowing abaya. I, of course, kept my eyes lowered, gaze averted, as it was considered provocative to look at a man.
Our favourite local supermarket was "Ted and Fred's" (in our Australian lingo), also known as T and F – for the Arabic names Tamimi and Fouad. The atmosphere was congenial, and we were able to get food from around the world – at a price.
However, we needed to fit our shopping in between the afternoon prayer call and the sunset one. Otherwise everything closed. We were either "shut out" of shops, or "shut in", but could not be served until prayer time was finished.
We found it best to not walk around. The religious police were everywhere, and zealous for respect for these prayer times – suspicious of the corrupting influence of foreigners. We were wary of their canes. Fidgety children had to be kept contained.
After a busy shopping time there usually came a pleading request, because ... of course it was close to dinner time!
"What's for dinner? Can we PLEASE have Yemeni chicken tonight?"
Yemeni chicken and rice – our fast food treat!
The rice! Cooked with cardamoms and cloves – what a delicious aroma! More rice than a family of five could eat, for just three dollars. Even thinking about it brings back the fragrance! The chicken, with a wonderful array of spices, was barbecued on a rotisserie set by the side of the road.
Colonel Sanders had no idea of how to cook a chicken, compared to these dear Yemeni men, with whom we became friends. Communication was mainly by pointing and smiling, with a little Arabic and a little English thrown in. The Yemeni men, gentle and generous, often added some savoury pastries for the children as a treat. Children were very special to them. We were glad to support their enterprises, as they struggled to send money home to relatives in Yemen.
Shopping was actually a fun time - but what excitement when we went to the suqs – the exotic Aladdin's Cave markets of world-wide fame ….
Until we heard about Nancy!
 Recognized |
(i) an abaya is a long black outer garment with long sleeves worn by Arabic women, when in public. It prevents men from seeing their body shape and thinking impure thoughts.
(ii) A thobe is a long white garment with long sleeves worn by Arabic men.
Pays
one point
and 2 member cents. (ii) A thobe is a long white garment with long sleeves worn by Arabic men.
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