At the Canteen
One of the more memorable, notable, and happy moments of my Mediterranean trip happened in a canteen in the desert.
At lunch, my driver took me to a canteen, or a resting place, in the middle of the desert where tourists and locals alike go for a sitting. It was a spacious room, split in two halves. One half had no windows. The other half was slightly raised, and had windows on three sides. I sat in the other half, by myself, with nobody around.
It was a quiet and breezy half of the room. Suddenly, a man appeared, and walked to the corner of the room, about 10 feet away from me. My back was facing the wall; while his face was facing it.
I peeked at his wall, to see what he was looking at. It was a blank wall.
He continued with some gestures, such as kneeling; prostrating; looking left, right, and down (?); etc. It took me a while to realize that he was praying. I looked at my food and continued eating quietly.
I was happy. I have always been curious as to what it feels like to be sitting beside a Muslim man while he prays. I know it is sometimes not permissible for a Muslim woman to pray beside the man, never mind a non-Muslim woman to sit beside a praying Muslim man.
I was thankful that he did not mind sharing the same space with me while he prayed. It is a gesture of acceptance, that I am just another human being, that I am not a disease that needs to be segregated from.
The feeling of sharing the same 200 square feet space with a praying man was quite serene and pleasant. It was a delicate silence as I tried not to disturb him and not to stare at him. Although I was not in a praying mode, he somehow brought me into one, as I tried to respect and hold the sacred space that he was in. It was a wonderfully precious experience.
At lunch, my driver took me to a canteen, or a resting place, in the middle of the desert where tourists and locals alike go for a sitting. It was a spacious room, split in two halves. One half had no windows. The other half was slightly raised, and had windows on three sides. I sat in the other half, by myself, with nobody around.
It was a quiet and breezy half of the room. Suddenly, a man appeared, and walked to the corner of the room, about 10 feet away from me. My back was facing the wall; while his face was facing it.
I peeked at his wall, to see what he was looking at. It was a blank wall.
He continued with some gestures, such as kneeling; prostrating; looking left, right, and down (?); etc. It took me a while to realize that he was praying. I looked at my food and continued eating quietly.
I was happy. I have always been curious as to what it feels like to be sitting beside a Muslim man while he prays. I know it is sometimes not permissible for a Muslim woman to pray beside the man, never mind a non-Muslim woman to sit beside a praying Muslim man.
I was thankful that he did not mind sharing the same space with me while he prayed. It is a gesture of acceptance, that I am just another human being, that I am not a disease that needs to be segregated from.
The feeling of sharing the same 200 square feet space with a praying man was quite serene and pleasant. It was a delicate silence as I tried not to disturb him and not to stare at him. Although I was not in a praying mode, he somehow brought me into one, as I tried to respect and hold the sacred space that he was in. It was a wonderfully precious experience.
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