I came to Mullah Street. I had a peek2 at the Jamia Masjid,the Great Mosque3, being careful to stay on the outside, ofcourse. Islam had a reputation worse than Christianity's –fewer gods, greater violence, and I had never heard anyonesay good things about Muslim schools – so I wasn't about tostep in, empty though the place was. The building, clean andwhite except for various edges painted green, was an openconstruction unfolding around an empty central room. Longstraw mats covered the floor everywhere. Above, two slim,fluted minarets5 rose in the air before a background of soaringcoconut trees. There was nothing evidently religious or, for thatmatter, interesting about the place, but it was pleasant andquiet.
I moved on. Just beyond the mosque was a series ofattached single-storey dwellings6 with small shaded porches. Theywere rundown and poor, their stucco walls a faded green. Oneof the dwellings was a small shop. I noticed a rack of dustybottles of Thums Up and four transparent7 plastic jars half-fullof candies. But the main ware8 was something else, somethingflat, roundish and white. I got close. It seemed to be some sortof unleavened bread. I poked9 at one. It flipped10 up stiffly. Theylooked like three-day-old nans. Who would eat these, Iwondered. I picked one up and wagged it to see if it wouldbreak.
A voice said, "Would you like to taste one?"I nearly jumped out of my skin. It's happened to all of us:
there's sunlight and shade, spots and patterns of colour, yourmind is elsewhere – so you don't make out what is right infront of you.
Not four feet away, sitting cross-legged before his breads,was a man. I was so startled my hands flew up and thebread went sailing halfway11 across the street. It landed on a patof fresh cow dung.
"I'm so sorry, sir. I didn't see you!" I burst out. I was justabout ready to run away.
"Don't worry," he said calmly. "It will feed a cow. Haveanother one."He tore one in two. We ate it together. It was tough andrubbery, real work for the teeth, but filling. I calmed down.
"So you make these," I said, to make conversation.
"Yes. Here, let me show you how." He got off his platformand waved me into his house.
It was a two-room hovel. The larger room, dominated by anoven, was the bakery, and the other, separated by a flimsycurtain, was his bedroom. The bottom of the oven was coveredwith smooth pebbles12. He was explaining to me how the breadbaked on these heated pebbles when the nasal call of themuezzin wafted13 through the air from the mosque. I knew itwas the call to prayer, but I didn't know what it entailed14. Iimagined it beckoned15 the Muslim faithful to the mosque, muchlike bells summoned us Christians16 to church. Not so. The bakerinterrupted himself mid-sentence and said, "Excuse me." Heducked into the next room for a minute and returned with arolled-up carpet, which he unfurled on the floor of his bakery,throwing up a small storm of flour. And right there before me,in the midst of his workplace, he prayed. It was incongruous,but it was I who felt out of place. Luckily, he prayed with hiseyes closed.
He stood straight. He muttered in Arabic. He brought hishands next to his ears, thumbs touching17 the lobes18, looking as ifhe were straining to hear Allah replying. He bent19 forward. Hestood straight again. He fell to his knees and brought hishands and forehead to the floor. He sat up. He fell forwardagain. He stood. He started the whole thing again.
Why, Islam is nothing but an easy sort of exercise, Ithought. Hot-weather yoga for the Bedouins. Asanas withoutsweat, heaven without strain.
He went through the cycle four times, muttering throughout.
When he had finished – with a right-left turning of the headand a short bout4 of meditation20 – he opened his eyes, smiled,stepped off his carpet and rolled it up with a flick21 of the handthat spoke22 of old habit. He returned it to its spot in the nextroom. He came back to me. "What was I saying?" he asked.
So it went the first time I saw a Muslim pray – quick,necessary, physical, muttered, striking. Next time I was prayingin church – on my knees, immobile, silent before Christ on theCross – the image of this callisthenic communion with God inthe middle of bags of flour kept coming to my mind.
点击收听单词发音
1 inscribed | |
v.写,刻( inscribe的过去式和过去分词 );内接 | |
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2 peek | |
vi.偷看,窥视;n.偷偷的一看,一瞥 | |
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3 mosque | |
n.清真寺 | |
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4 bout | |
n.侵袭,发作;一次(阵,回);拳击等比赛 | |
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5 minarets | |
n.(清真寺旁由报告祈祷时刻的人使用的)光塔( minaret的名词复数 ) | |
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6 dwellings | |
n.住处,处所( dwelling的名词复数 ) | |
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7 transparent | |
adj.明显的,无疑的;透明的 | |
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8 ware | |
n.(常用复数)商品,货物 | |
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9 poked | |
v.伸出( poke的过去式和过去分词 );戳出;拨弄;与(某人)性交 | |
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10 flipped | |
轻弹( flip的过去式和过去分词 ); 按(开关); 快速翻转; 急挥 | |
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11 halfway | |
adj.中途的,不彻底的,部分的;adv.半路地,在中途,在半途 | |
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12 pebbles | |
[复数]鹅卵石; 沙砾; 卵石,小圆石( pebble的名词复数 ) | |
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13 wafted | |
v.吹送,飘送,(使)浮动( waft的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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14 entailed | |
使…成为必要( entail的过去式和过去分词 ); 需要; 限定继承; 使必需 | |
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15 beckoned | |
v.(用头或手的动作)示意,召唤( beckon的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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16 Christians | |
n.基督教徒( Christian的名词复数 ) | |
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17 touching | |
adj.动人的,使人感伤的 | |
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18 lobes | |
n.耳垂( lobe的名词复数 );(器官的)叶;肺叶;脑叶 | |
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19 bent | |
n.爱好,癖好;adj.弯的;决心的,一心的 | |
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20 meditation | |
n.熟虑,(尤指宗教的)默想,沉思,(pl.)冥想录 | |
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21 flick | |
n.快速的轻打,轻打声,弹开;v.轻弹,轻轻拂去,忽然摇动 | |
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22 spoke | |
n.(车轮的)辐条;轮辐;破坏某人的计划;阻挠某人的行动 v.讲,谈(speak的过去式);说;演说;从某种观点来说 | |
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