A Leap of Faith

This day had the makings of a normal Friday afternoon, but as I walked toward this great white building, I was reminded that I was headed towards my new life. My eyes, for as long as I can remember, were fixed on the minaret; which towered over the building like it was safeguarding it. It is where the long and mystical sound came from. The echo of the call made it sound as though there were two voices coming from it – a melodious cacophony, one may say. As I walked nearer to the call, it grew in loudness, and the words being sung were more definite. With the call done, I came back down to earth and turned my focus to my immediate surroundings. The distinct sound of laughter from children playing in the courtyard was dominant over everything else now. It was accompanied by the murmur of many men, most of whom were warmly greeting each other. They were all heading towards the entrance. So was I. I knew there was no turning back from here on.    

                 

The entrance was scattered with shoes which seemed to have been taken off in a rush. The small flight of steps that followed the shoe area, however, was clean. The steps were covered with a thick Persian carpet and they led to a lobby which had some worshipers wondering about. On the left was a shut door. I knew I had to go inside this door as it was the only place where I would probably find the imam. I was greeted with a pleasant smile after walking in. He was expecting me. The leather chair which I set on was rigid and dark brown. Its stiff texture and piercing plastic-like smell suggested that it was still relatively new. Everything was still.

               

The imam led me through to the prayer hall which was covered entirely by the same lush carpet. I was immediately captured by the  detailed decoration and calligraphy which was spread across the walls and dome above me. The dome was finely painted with floral and other symmetrical patterns – all in the shade of blue and brown. The calligraphy was bold and beautifully complex. It could be seen high on the walls around the room. The walls themselves had multiple small blocks of tiles decorated with arabesque floral patterns. The chandelier, at the center of the room, was the main attraction. It was cone-shaped with rows of light bulbs that shone through crystal decorations. The chandelier sparkled, but not as much as to disturb the people in the room. As I marveled, the imam grabbed my hand as if to remind me why I was I there.

               

Finally, in unison, the congregation in the mosque started organizing themselves into rows – all evenly spaced out. Everyone stood shoulder to shoulder except for some elderly men who set on chairs on the sides of each row. I, standing shoulder to shoulder with everyone else, followed the lead of the imam. I was somewhere in the center of the room, flanked by men who were in deep concentration. Nervous and doubtful of my every move, I proceeded to complete my first salat as a Muslim.

B.Pascal Zwane