I had the chance to slow down and think on Friday. Tom usually brings my change of clothes to school so I can walk to work, but on Friday, he forgot. Grumbling about having to go home during work hours to change, I hopped a taxi and took the 20-minute drive home.
Not surprisingly, the taxi driver was listening to the radio. The taxis are our opportunity to hear traditional Moroccan music: Andalousian, Gnawan, etc. As I listened this day, I noticed the solo singer weaving around Arabic words, sustaining on a specific pitch after melismatic melodies. The taxi driver informed me that we were listening to the words of the Koran.
The Koran, a religious text, sung without extensive editing, part of this drivers' preferred listening. I meditated on this thought as I listened, wondering what was being said. Wondering how this fits into prayer or worship. And marveling that I am in a place with people so devout as to listen to the word of Allah on the radio.
I'm thankful to be here, where I can experience the positive and beautiful sides of Islam. (Not the biased, anti-terrorist perspective that surrounds me in the U.S.)
Karissa
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