I asked Arij, my delightful 4th grade colleague, "Just what is that man singing from the mosque?" She laughed at me, then explained, "He's singing prayers; calling the people to pray." During our last skype call, sister Liz wanted to know if the chanting was live, or taped. Arij explained that it is often taped, but is live on Fridays at noon, the Islamic Sunday equivalent, when the message is delivered from the loudspeakers for all to hear.
I hear two voices intertwining from cross town mosques at this moment. Their voices almost seem to create a counterpoint, one sings, then the other. It's 7:06pm, and the sun is setting. I do enjoy the music, so different to my ear.
On my way home, walking the Corniche along the Sea, I giggled as people drove past, loudspeakers blaring out Arabic rock. I mean LOUD. Why would I complain? When we rode the bus home from Massaya Vineyard a week ago, the bus driver put LOUD Arabic music over the speaker system, and we were in the aisles, dancing (or at least trying to do those figure 8s), all the way down the mountain to Beirut and THROUGH Beirut. Life in Beirut is LOUD, PERIOD.
I hear two voices intertwining from cross town mosques at this moment. Their voices almost seem to create a counterpoint, one sings, then the other. It's 7:06pm, and the sun is setting. I do enjoy the music, so different to my ear.
On my way home, walking the Corniche along the Sea, I giggled as people drove past, loudspeakers blaring out Arabic rock. I mean LOUD. Why would I complain? When we rode the bus home from Massaya Vineyard a week ago, the bus driver put LOUD Arabic music over the speaker system, and we were in the aisles, dancing (or at least trying to do those figure 8s), all the way down the mountain to Beirut and THROUGH Beirut. Life in Beirut is LOUD, PERIOD.
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