Legend goes the mosque in Shali town, in the Siwa oasis, was the last to use a live adaan. Now, they’re all voice recordings that vary with every mosque.
Sometimes, I love it. I love it when I’m up working late and I hear the fajrthe call at morning light. Cairo is so still, you can hear the mosques starting up within seconds of each other, the call rolling like waves across the sleeping city. In my street in Roxy, I look out to see a few old men, past the age of sleeping, who walk silently to the mosque, and gather to talk in the street afterwards, white gellibayas fluttering with a little breeze, prayer beads in knotted hands.
Sometimes hearing the fajr fills me with despair – it means I stayed up too late again and I’ll pay later, when I’m yawning all day.
I’ve just about reverted back to Australian working hours. Sydney comes online at about 12 midnight here, and finishes around 9am, so I find myself staying up later and later as I chat with editors, getting an instant response to questions that could otherwise take a couple of days. On the positive side, when I do eventually go home, at least I won’t have to readapt…
