Thinking about the first time I heard the call to prayer. I was barely five the day we arrived in Bahrain. I heard the unique sound of a mans voice singing from the nearby mosque which was so very different to home in England. I had been used to dogs barking first thing in the morning, and the sound of the milkmans little electric van straining to get up the hill, the chink of glass milk-bottles as he deposited the four of them on the concrete doorstep. I couldnt understand Arabic and had no idea it was anything to do with religion. To a five year old, a song was a powerful thing. Sad and forlorn, one voice singing from an ancient minaret bringing a great city to a standstill. Even the birds seemed to stop and listen.
Posted on: Thu, 13 Mar 2014 23:34:25 +0000
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