The time for fajr, the morning prayers, runs from about 4:30-6:00. That is the time the sky begins to lighten, but ends as the sun actually comes up over the horizon. At 6:00 loudspeakers from the street are urging everyone out of their homes with "Allahu Akbar, Allahu Akbar...".
By 7:00 a wide boulevard is packed with people for 2 long city blocks. They cover over the dividing islands and cross each side of the street. Lines of parked cars completely and effectively block each end of the site. People fill every inch from curb to curb, sidewalk to sidewalk. One block is for the men, one block is for the women. I see a few policemen scattered about. They are not needed for this celebratory prayer.
There are thousands of people here. Ten thousand? Twenty? When I stand directly in the middle of the street and look straight ahead, I cannot spot the imam out of all of this crowd. To my right, the sun is bright white and still low, just clear of the rooftops. There is a breeze; the air is still cool. It is only about 80 degrees. That feels cool, because later on, the forecast is predicting a high of 110.
Woven plastic matting has been unrolled in the streets. On top of that, people place their prayer mats and sit on the ground. Those who have some physical difficulty bring stools or chairs. For the latecomers, the places on the matting are taken. No matter. They lay their prayer rugs directly on the ground to sit on and then to stand on to pray. The rugs always touch or overlap as the Muslims will stand to pray not singly, but as a unit--touching shoulder to shoulder and toe to toe.
In the midst of these thousands of people, two friends come up to me out of the crowd. A moment later, I spot a 3rd friend over to my left. I introduce each to the other.
In the normal Friday congregational prayer, there is always first the khutbah, or sermon, then the prayer. For eid, the order is reversed. The loudspeakers, strung from light poles along the street so that all can hear,
have stopped the chant and the voice of the imam, who remains invisible in the distance to me throughout, begins the prayer.
By 8:00 the family downstairs has received it's first holiday visitors--nephews, sister, cousins. We eat cookies, drink coffee. We share soup and a traditional square bread layered, pastry-like and fried.
I go upstairs again. It's geting hot, and I go online to check the weather. At 8:30, it's 91 degrees.
Eid Mabrook, from Marrakech.
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