This was, as usual, an unusual morning. I was awakened prior to the alarm for Fajr prayer, allowing for some leisure. Prayed from the patio, as I my knees prevent prostration I pray on a chair, facing in the direction of the Kaaba of course. I do not wish to be critical but the call to pray ringing out is not, shall we say, music to my ears, nor anyone’s as you soon shall learn. The noise that emanates is a combination (it seems) of a poor sound system manned by an individual who would not have been chosen by the Prophet (PBUH).
The truths of the first call to prayer was made known to me upon reading Martin Ling’s Biography of the the Prophet Mohammed from the Earliest Sources. It should be mandatory reading for all Muslims. The first call to pray took place in Medina from the rooftop of an affluent woman. It was the tallest structure in Medina at the time. The man who had the brilliant idea of a human voice calling people to prayer, rather than other faith’s gongs or bells l, was not blessed with a voice with fine tonal qualities. So another individual, blessed by Allah (SWT) with a melodic voice was chosen by the Prophet (PBUH). This first established the importance and brilliance of using the human voice. I had an amazing experience during my three months stay in Medina. A call to prayer rang out, I was in Kyoto, the Japanese restaurant in the Oberio Hotel. I was struck by the significance of this. My being so privileged to be there with my knowledge. I began to weep, tears of joy, The man sitting next to me took my hand – later telling me that it was, at that moment, he fell in love with me. That song has definitely ended (hahaha); not even the melody lingers on. I naively thought the woman’s home where the prayer rang out would be preserved. It was not, everything is being destroyed in the pursuit of greed. More about that in blogs to come, to be contained in a special section. I think to be called Desecration. But more about that later. Now back to the my Malaysia morning.
The call to prayer echoed. Immediately dogs began baying, like they were baying at the moon. I should have recorded the sound, if it happens again I shall do so. Dogs are rarity in the Muslim world, this is a Muslim majority country with many of Chinese origin living here. They are most frequently the dog owners. So there would be no dogs baying in Medina at the time of the first call to prayer.
Back to yesterday, the day of the fast. It was successfully completed. Texting with a Saudi man at the time
He: Did you eat already?
Me: Yes, but what I said I would eat. No use eating when one is not hungry.
We had previously spoken.
He: What are you are having to break your fast? Hope it is healthy food.
Me: Nope! Grapes as there are no dates to be had. Japanese squishy things brought as my night time treat and then part of a chocolate bar, my favorite Cadbury with hazelnuts. I hope you have not lost all respect for me. (Hahaha) I am no longer hungry. Now going to have a bubble bath in my huge tub. Say prayers and go to bed.
He: Well take care write me when you can.
We are on different time zones. I told him that we are like two ships that pass in the night. Saying I would discuss this on my blog. I shall at this moment with the help of Google.
If two people are like ships that pass in the night, they meet once or twice by chance for a short time then do not see each other again. Or put in a slightly different way: When two people who have had no previous relationship, and will most likely have no subsequent relationship, have a brief but significant meeting. That is not exactly true, in this particular instance, because I have not met this man – I do not think. I am sure I would remember if I had. We may have trod upon the same carpet, but at different times. Not sure of that, but will check with my Saudi sources, and perhaps my blog spoke of my fabled walk upon a royal carpet, as Sheikha Fatimah. Fatimah was my Muslim name at the time.
More about the ships.
Ships that pass in the night, and speak each other in passing, Only a signal shown and a distant voice in the darkness; So on the ocean of life we pass and speak one another, Only a look and a voice, then darkness again and a silence. Hmm. So not applicable after all. We are speaking, albeit from a distance, so not silence at the moment anyway. Who knows? It has been fun conversing so far. It got me through some difficult times.
But back to the yesterday’s fast. My Malaysian sister joined me in the fast and we cheered each other on like two high school girls.
She: I bought dates and nuts and cranberry. I can’t wait.
Me: But you have to wait. Hahaha But only for about two hours and twenty minutes.
She: Counting minutes Ya.
Me: Yes! I think 128 but my math is bad.
In order to distract myself passing those last crucial moments I went for a walk along the beach. There were strange birds there. Took a photo of them
Me: I am by the beach. What are these birds??
She: That’s chicken.
Me: Thanks. Skinny things.
As you can see having a Malaysian Muslim Sister is most valuable. Cheers you on when you fast and tells you about skinny chickens. Hahaha.
Back to this morning.
I have changed my routine, well for today anyway. I write from the breakfast buffet from my self anointed throne. A table by the window. It works very well, My computer rests upon the table. I am surrounded at this early Friday hour by Malaysian families. It is an absolute delight. The babies in high chairs, their older siblings on chairs. Often the fathers are feeding them, taking equal responsibility. Never have I seen such nurturing men. I am near tears as I write. It is healing, for some reason. I who was abused by my father, watch nurturing men with their children. It is because of my excessive empathy. I can feel the love. The man for his son or daughter, the love of the child for both of his parents, and how it must feel for the mother to have a help mate who sees the rearing of their children as the most important task. What adds to this ‘shared’ feeling is the knowledge that our Creator sent me here to see this. To fashion my healing and bring me peace of mind.
The nurturing shown by Malaysian men is learned, by example from their fathers it is true. But it also can be genetic. It is a complicated topic which I have been studying. More about that when my studies are near completion.
I can see from the neighboring table that the father is more ‘nurturing’ than the mother, in the traditional sense. My Malaysian Sister told me that her grandchildren see her husband as the nurturer. Of course, not immediately told me this, but after our friendship grew and my knowledge of this culture grew.
Me: That is usual in Malaysia. It is a gift to all.
I met many Saudis when living there. It is not a Saudi trait. Men there are most distant, critical, non supportive. Although their de facto Ruler seems very nurturing. A complex man, to be sure.
I love being around people today. I did need a day away which fasting provided. Did not see or converse with many. Those I did text were mostly Muslims. As I said to one man.
Me: Muslims are winning. Surrender!
He: Never.
Me: You will fight to the bitter middle I guess. If not the bitter end.
This may have come true. He may have been replaced. I have this innate ability to do so. An esteemed woman (employed by this hotel) and I spoke. We accidentally met on my beach walk.
She: You have something inside that attracts people to you.
Me: Yes. It has always been true. But I have wasted it on people who are not worthy of me. I pray this might change.
She: You seem to be on the right course.
Me: Yes, as Muslims say the Straight Path.
I look about at this moment. Trying to find someone to take a picture of me in my new place. My throne. I found a chef, who took time off of his culinary pursuits to briefly serve as the RoYal photographer.
Photographs will show my new writing throne, the skinny chickens, my attire of the morning, a combination of Saudi and Malaysian gifts. I have devised a new method of tying my Malaysian head scarf using Saudi materials. It is brilliant, if I do not say so myself.
There is also a link and a reel, both entirely different. The reel is one sent from iPhoto of the Bali Fish Market in all of its colorful glory. The link to an Instagram reel speaking of the essence of being a Muslim: https://www.instagram.com/reel/DAnx93hIY16/?igsh=bHNkcXI2M2R5a3ox. I am experiencing that essence.
Not sure what this day may bring. More writing and perhaps a much needed new phone plan. Alhamdulillah.
