tales that were never told: the morning call to prayer

this lost tale takes place in the hashemite kingdom of jordan. my dear friend N was visiting (and with whom i had studied abroad with in morocco oh-so-many years ago) and we decided to stay at her aunt's place in amman during our short sojourn to petra. 

N's family is christian and situated in a nice little mixed neighbourhood in east amman (a nice glimpse at jordanian life without the glitz and glamour of west amman). their house sits on the side of a hill and one descends a dozen or so steps before entering the small and cosy abode, only to be welcomed by hugs and kisses, and of course, delicious food. 

N and i were set to stay the night before setting off on our journey, and we shared her cousin's bedroom. the weather in jordan was divine compared to the sticky sauna that was the omani summer; a nice breeze filtered in through the open windows as the hustle and bustle in the streets below us continued through the night. 

as a nice little warning, N's aunt and cousin mentioned that one of their neighbours was a mosque and wondered if we would be alright with the noise. N and i boasted of our acclimation to such a cultural definition of living in this part of the world -- my flat in muscat was less than a kilometer away from the grand mosque, thus i relished in hearing every beautiful call to prayer emanating from its minarets. N and i recalled our glory days in morocco, when staying up late at night for whatever reason and late enough to hear the angels singing from on high - the early morning call to prayer. pssh, we would be ok.

sleeping in an unfamiliar bed does not always bode well for a good night's rest. neither does the 4 am muezzin's call: "Allahu akbar! Allahu akbar!" N and i didn't speak or move, but for some reason, i think we both heard each others eyes open and a small gasp of breath emerged from both pairs of lips. 

we were that close to the neighbour's minaret. holy canolli. 

this was like having the muezzin standing right next to you, holding a bullhorn to your ear and screaming with all his many decibels' might that God is, indeed, great. 

we waited. the other neighbourhood mosques continued their calls to prayer, indeed like a chorus of angels, reminiscent of our late study nights in the maghrib. 

a few minutes pass and silence. but not complete silence -- the fuzzy static of the loudspeaker was still there. we braced ourselves. please please please ... turn the microphone off. you called the people to prayer, they heard you. let us go back to sleep.

"ALLAHU AKBAR! ALLAHU AKBAR!"

another call to prayer followed the static-y silence. and as if on a comedic beat, N's frustrated reaction: 

"JESUS CHRIST!"

pause.

uproarious laughter from the both of us, and then the nestling back to hopefully precious sleep before our scheduled 8am wake-up call.