By 7 a.m, thousands of people already
filled the boulevard. The street was lined with plastic woven mats for people to sit and pray on, but
the crowds were larger and spilled over onto the sidewalks, the island
dividing the street, the doorway of the police station and the small
sports arena. People moved the barricades to make more room. Men and women place their own small prayer rugs over the plastic mats and then directly on the street where the mats have ended. Eventually, there were
probably ten thousand people there.
The cool morning breeze competed with the intense rays of the sun rising almost directly in front of us. The temperature, already in the 80's, was expected to climb to 107 degrees. People began turning their backs to the sun's rays while they waited for the prayer to start. Some of the women shaded themselves with the ends of their scarves. Some put their prayer rugs over their heads to block what seemed to be laser-like heat from boring directly down into their skulls. Female volunteers carried cups and gallons of water through the crowd of women, providing water to whichever women or children signalled for a drink.
Most of the men were dressed in long thobes--white, beige, grey, brown, black, striped, even plaid. The women wore every color and pattern imaginable. Not just black or brown, but magenta, teal, green, blue, turquoise, rose, and lavender in solids, geometric designs, flowered patterns of cotton, silk, synthetic materials.
At 6 a.m. the call over the loudspeakers had started: Allahu Akbar, Subhanallah, Allahu Akbar. I could hear it clearly from my house 2 blocks away. Last year the crowd could hear the imam perfectly. Unfortunately this Eid, the 2nd speaker system--where we were seated and about more than a city block from the imam--had degraded in quality as time went on. At a little past by 7:30 a.m. when the time the prayer started, pretty much all we could make out were the Allahu Akbars and the Salaams at the end. There was just no hope of hearing the khutbah, and at least a couple of thousand of us left right after the salat.
Yet even with the technical failure, I realized afterward that when we stood and made the prayer, I had forgotten all about the heat of the still rising sun. During the prayer, it just wasn't hot anymore.
The cool morning breeze competed with the intense rays of the sun rising almost directly in front of us. The temperature, already in the 80's, was expected to climb to 107 degrees. People began turning their backs to the sun's rays while they waited for the prayer to start. Some of the women shaded themselves with the ends of their scarves. Some put their prayer rugs over their heads to block what seemed to be laser-like heat from boring directly down into their skulls. Female volunteers carried cups and gallons of water through the crowd of women, providing water to whichever women or children signalled for a drink.
Most of the men were dressed in long thobes--white, beige, grey, brown, black, striped, even plaid. The women wore every color and pattern imaginable. Not just black or brown, but magenta, teal, green, blue, turquoise, rose, and lavender in solids, geometric designs, flowered patterns of cotton, silk, synthetic materials.
At 6 a.m. the call over the loudspeakers had started: Allahu Akbar, Subhanallah, Allahu Akbar. I could hear it clearly from my house 2 blocks away. Last year the crowd could hear the imam perfectly. Unfortunately this Eid, the 2nd speaker system--where we were seated and about more than a city block from the imam--had degraded in quality as time went on. At a little past by 7:30 a.m. when the time the prayer started, pretty much all we could make out were the Allahu Akbars and the Salaams at the end. There was just no hope of hearing the khutbah, and at least a couple of thousand of us left right after the salat.
Yet even with the technical failure, I realized afterward that when we stood and made the prayer, I had forgotten all about the heat of the still rising sun. During the prayer, it just wasn't hot anymore.
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