Sun fades. It goes from a shiny orange to a bloody egg. A distinct smell erupts from huge domed ovens littered across the block. Men with white beanies and thobes (robes) stand surrounding the vendors of foule (mashed fava beans) and flat bread. The Muslims are ready to break fast. Deliriously, they push their frankincense smelling bills in the worker’s faces demanding service. It looks like Wall Street crossed with the Flintstones. Fruit markets swell with buyers; parking and driving become impossible tasks; everyone is fervently trying to get home. Randy drives carefully to avoid Impalas and Blazers. He comments, “The government reports more automobile accidents happen during Ramadan.”
Shortly after the suns cracks, pouring pink towards Mecca, night fills the sky with a crescent moon. You can hear three nearby mosques chanting prayers calls. They wail for hours in the distance, echoing and fading as we drive further away.
Shortly after the suns cracks, pouring pink towards Mecca, night fills the sky with a crescent moon. You can hear three nearby mosques chanting prayers calls. They wail for hours in the distance, echoing and fading as we drive further away.
1 comment:
you better not cancel the blog, we hang on to every word. I'll post this nine more times if need be (and Ben and Julie will do the same). So step down off the ledge and keep the posts coming.
we miss you guys.
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