I may not know Instagram, but I know imagery. This holiday has been full of it.
Last night, the eve of Eid, I shaped ma3mool, (no idea how to transliterate that!) at Manar's house.
The semolina dough pleasantly gritty and oily against my palm as I flatted it into a pancake, then use it to enfold a nub of date puree in yellow, scented with rose water. I also smelled lots of Chinese food, which the family ordered to break their day-long fast as the evening call to prayer sounded. It's a much easier time of year to fast than Ramadan was because of the shortened days, all the same, going until 6:50 without water is tough. We gulped together.
This morning a chanted refrain of "Allahu akbar" rose, unusually, from the east of our apartment. I couldn't tell what was going on.
On the way to meet Manar's mother at the mosque for the morning Eid prayers at 6:45, I passed the most glorious jasmine plant, wafting its scent across the fruit-smashed sidewalk. A woman, also in prayer clothes, said "salam alaikum" which I believe means peace be upon you and is how people greet groups of people in the mosque or when they enter a room. She and I walked together, until she joined the group of people gathering in a big parking lot with mats to pray. The people already gathered there were the source of the chanting.
I join Im- Abed at the mosque, and felt both the tug of the prayer clothes under my chin and the sensation of praying right up against other worshippers. I asked Manar's mum about this once, and she said in the Quran is says that God is pleased when his worshippers are together in a visually appealing manner. So in the mosque people don't just pray wherever they want to - there is a flurry of activity to keep rows neat and unbroken. When I drift, in my unconscious, American quest for elbow room, away from the woman next to me, she flaps her hand in the empty space until I close it. The visual effect certainly is impressive, even in a small mosque.
Im Abed explained that the parking lot is for people who are praying for Al Aqsa mosque. She said Muslims are instructed to direct their prayers toward the major mosques, including Mecca, Mohammad's mosque next to Mecca, and Al Aqsa. Al Aqsa has been under Israeli fire in the past few weeks, and no Muslims are permitted to go there, so it's an object of fervent prayer, she told me.
I've now dispatched with the prayer clothes and am sitting in a cafe, about to prepare next week's lessons on George Bernard Shaw's The Doctor's Dilemma.
Last night, the eve of Eid, I shaped ma3mool, (no idea how to transliterate that!) at Manar's house.
The semolina dough pleasantly gritty and oily against my palm as I flatted it into a pancake, then use it to enfold a nub of date puree in yellow, scented with rose water. I also smelled lots of Chinese food, which the family ordered to break their day-long fast as the evening call to prayer sounded. It's a much easier time of year to fast than Ramadan was because of the shortened days, all the same, going until 6:50 without water is tough. We gulped together.
This morning a chanted refrain of "Allahu akbar" rose, unusually, from the east of our apartment. I couldn't tell what was going on.
On the way to meet Manar's mother at the mosque for the morning Eid prayers at 6:45, I passed the most glorious jasmine plant, wafting its scent across the fruit-smashed sidewalk. A woman, also in prayer clothes, said "salam alaikum" which I believe means peace be upon you and is how people greet groups of people in the mosque or when they enter a room. She and I walked together, until she joined the group of people gathering in a big parking lot with mats to pray. The people already gathered there were the source of the chanting.
I join Im- Abed at the mosque, and felt both the tug of the prayer clothes under my chin and the sensation of praying right up against other worshippers. I asked Manar's mum about this once, and she said in the Quran is says that God is pleased when his worshippers are together in a visually appealing manner. So in the mosque people don't just pray wherever they want to - there is a flurry of activity to keep rows neat and unbroken. When I drift, in my unconscious, American quest for elbow room, away from the woman next to me, she flaps her hand in the empty space until I close it. The visual effect certainly is impressive, even in a small mosque.
Im Abed explained that the parking lot is for people who are praying for Al Aqsa mosque. She said Muslims are instructed to direct their prayers toward the major mosques, including Mecca, Mohammad's mosque next to Mecca, and Al Aqsa. Al Aqsa has been under Israeli fire in the past few weeks, and no Muslims are permitted to go there, so it's an object of fervent prayer, she told me.
I've now dispatched with the prayer clothes and am sitting in a cafe, about to prepare next week's lessons on George Bernard Shaw's The Doctor's Dilemma.
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