Muezzin and Me

A local man speaks to me every day. He greets me when I get out of bed each morning, and he always has his piece of advice for me before I go to bed.  I can never understand what he says, but his words always ring loud and clear.  He and I have never been formally introduced, and no, he is not some creepy house watchman or homeless vagrant.  He is the muezzin at the local mosque, and his voice, broadcast five times each day, has been one of my good companions here in Cape Town.

Ramadan starts tomorrow morning, and I am not sure what to expect.  I know every Muslim is meant to fast from Sunrise to Sunset during this holy month, but I have also heard stories of communal potlucks and acts of charity.  For some reason I find those last two points hard to believe.  

the hilly cobble-stoned streets of the bo-kaap
bo-kaap literally means "upper cape" in afrikaans

Ramadan is Islam's holiest month, set aside as a time during which Muslims are expected to fast, and in doing so put more effort into following the teachings of Islam and avoid obscene and irreligious sights and sounds, but when I think of Christianity's "holiest month," (whether that would be Easter and Lent or December and Christmas) "charity" and "community" don't spring foremost to mind.  Maybe it's the commercialism that gets associated with both seasons, but I believe that physical restraint and service toward others are much more admirable and Christ-like characteristics than the widespread routine celebrations and Western cultural gluttony that comes during commemoration of Christian holiday seasons.  

I'm no authority on this matter, but I think that there is a lot of truth in fasting. I have only done it once but I am curious to see what effect this month of restraint and spiritual focus has on the neighborhood.

As I recently read in a national news-paper article entitled "What's the Point of Ramadan Anyway", journalist Khadija Patel offers some perspective on the matter:

Will power, psychologists say, is a lot like a muscle - it needs to be burdened before it is built, but once built, the whole body benefits. And, in my view, that is the thinking behind Ramadan. Abstaining from food and sex during the daylight hours is meant to jumpstart your ability to resist temptation through the rest of the year. This month is an acknowledgement of human beings as not merely physical creatures, it admits our physicality, but also shows we are so much more than the pleasure of our own flesh.

My neighborhood at a glance

According to City of Cape Town statistics, the Bo-Kaap neighborhood is 90% Muslim (although I speculate the other 10% are international students looking for a cheap place to crash!).  Pursuant of this religious demographic, I assumed that everyone in Bo-Kaap would be speaking Arabic. Granted, a few do. But everyone? Boy was I wrong! I have heard very little Arabic spoken besides the adhan call to prayer, as everyone here relates in the lowest common linguistic denominator- usually either English or Afrikaans.  After making a few Muslim friends here I have found within many homes intricate calligraphic posters and weavings in Arabic.  From my inquiries, these are usually Qur'anic texts that have been emblazoned on fabrics and parchments for their religious significance, but also for their graphic appeal as Islamic law prohibits depiction of the human form in art (although, to be honest, Arabic calligraphy is very beautiful).

Allow me to elaborate with some architectural perspective - Bo-Kaap is the home of Islam in South Africa. I'll try not to get the history wrong here, but from what I've learned when the Dutch settled in Cape Town many many years ago they brought along Indonesian Muslims as workers and fellow immigrants.  The Islamic community grew from this core of "Malay" immigrants in Cape Town to its current state, now with over 400 mosques in South Africa alone.  The first of these mosques is actually located just down the road from my apartment, and was constructed by an exiled Indonesian Prince in 1798.  1798! That's OLD!! (as a comparison, Cincinnati was FOUNDED in 1788, only ten years earlier). There are currently six or seven mosques in Bo-Kaap, each of which put out a call to prayer five times per day, and it is my goal to get to know more about the Muslim community here, especially as Ramadan begins. 

bo-kaap represent. i love great graffiti and there's

a ton of it here in cape town

So, what's a good way to understand this holy month from a Christian perspective? Here are a few thoughts, largely borrowed from Jim Petersen:

Be considerate

I walk through the heart of Muslim Bo-Kaap every day.  I believe that chowing down on an apple in front of fasting Muslims might more disrespectful than wearing high-heels to a midget convention (my analogy, not Jim's), so I must be aware of the people I'm with, the tenets of the belief to which they adhere, and act in kind consideration.

Be worldly (and relatable)

"I have voluntarily become a servant to any and all in order to reach a wide range of people: religious, nonreligious, meticulous moralists, loose-living immoralists . . . whoever. I didn’t take on their way of life. I kept my bearings in Christ — but I entered their world and tried to experience things from their point of view. I’ve become just about every sort of servant there is in my attempts to lead those I meet into a God-saved life."  (1 Corinthians 9:19-22, MSG) 

Relating well with Muslims may not be easy- I'll need to first confront the obstacles of my own cultural stereotypes and my own tendency to consider my ideas and ways as being the smartest approach. But this is a great growing point! I would hope to relate with people wherever I go, and Paul's advice from 1 Corinthians is a bright beacon of guidance on this matter.

Be compassionate

Beyond being kind and adaptive, I want to be action-oriented. Passively absorbing cultural traditions is important, but once I get a sense of how Ramadan works here, I want to respond to it. As Jim Petersen says,

"Love is a verb, a call to action. It calls us not only to seek to understand these neighbors but also to serve them in ways that reflect God’s love. How else will they ever see the kingdom of God?"

And that's about all I have to say for now. In doing some research for this blog post I discovered that the message of the call to prayer begins as follows:

“Get up and pray. To pray is better than to sleep.”

Architecture students don't typically get much rest so I'm cool with the whole no-sleeping thing-- but praying instead of sleeping? I wonder how that idea would go over in the US...  regardless, I look forward to what Ramadan has in store for me, my roommates, and the neighborhood.  Although not technically fasting I'm going to give up a few things that I over-rely on and try to focus more on God.  And fast or no fast, I know that the with the muezzin's voice as my companion I'm going to learn a lot.

at the intersection of buitengracht and rose streets,
the boundary of bo-kaap

"Therefore, do not let anyone judge you by what you eat or drink or with regard to a religious festival, a New Moon celebration, or a Sabbath day. These are a shadow of the things that were to come; the reality however, is found in Christ."
- Colossians 2:16-17

What makes a good community?

Reproduced from Karen Press's Closer Than This (an open source book for urban planners)

...and architects, too!

Test: would Vladimir and Estragon be willing to wait here?

Test: would a ball kicked along the road roll back backwards?

Test: would a bunch of flowers stay alive all the way home?

Test: would Charles Baudelaire walk these pavements?

Test: how long would a goldfish survive?

Test: would Frida Kahlo find enough colors?

Test: would carrots grow straight in the soil?

Test: would Nawal el Saadawi be able to relax?

Test: would a cellist be heard?

Test: would Elvis be happy here? would Fela?

Karen poses these questions under the auspices of new urban developments in Africa, but it is worth asking the same questions of existing communities and neighborhoods undergoing revitalization - both in Africa and elsewhere around the world!

Just thoughts to consider.

A poem of Bo-Kaap

From Gabeba Baderoon's Three Poems

I walk down Heerengracht,
where pigeons dip their necks
like question marks into the fountain.
Then left at Long, while the sun slips

Toward the sea and the moon takes its place
above Signal Hill.
Above me, starlings clatter
like typewriters.

Higher still, turning right at Wale,
seagulls tilt like white kites
against the wind.

I step on the old silences of the city.

Here is the place on the hill where artists came
for peace and the view of the harbour.
Below, the city reveals itself.
We still walk the neat streets of their paintings.

Under the angled mountain, its blue light,
the starlings are cold but, looking at them,
I see the loveliness
of their chaotic and coordinated hunger.

What can explain
this exact and unjust beauty?

The flock clusters at sunset for warmth and seed.
Poetry cannot be afraid of this.

Sketching the streets, the artists stood
on the burial ground of the city’s slaves.
In the paintings is something
of the private grief of their bodies.

In precise patterns the starlings follow one another
and redouble on their own flight-tracks,
slipstream of warmth,
blood-trace of the self.

Nothing to begin with,
and nothing again.

Around me, the air is thick with history.
Two hundred years ago,
slaves could no longer be sold.

Nothing, and nothing again.

I look again at the painted city, falling
silent at sunset, even the birds stilled.
In the last flash of the sun, the city gleams
white and hard as bone.

Week 2 Pictures: Pendo means Love

What do you see?

Trees as green as wild grass on a spring morning; earth as raw and red as if it was the lifeblood of the earth itself; people as passionate and personable as if they were your own brothers and sisters; metal roofs and sun-scorched bricks weathered and worn by years of use-- forget the big five and all those roadside souvenirs - this is Africa. This boundless nature is what makes Africa so special, and was in this world of vibrant life and color that I began my second week of work in Tanzania (check out some pictures below).

The week kicked off, as a week often does, at a local church on a Sunday morning.  As Jennifer and I were waiting for the service to begin she and I became the center of attention for a large group of local children. Before any songs had been sung or testimonies had been tested, the two of us came to attention for the rest of the congregation as the children called out “muzungu! muzungu!”

Fortunately this was not the first time I had heard this term used, and as my handy-dandy Swahili-to-English dictionary describes, “muzungu” literally means people who walk in circles, referring to the way in which non-Africans appear to struggle in circles as they drive aimlessly through Africa.

a herd of real-life muzungus in their natural habitat

Although we were not doing any driving in the church that day, by the time the congregation rose to sing a half-dozen Swahili songs, I certainly found myself struggling with a few new extra friends attached to my arms and legs – the little kids were clinging to my clothes like muzungu magnets!

As the service proceeded, the children hardly abated – in fact, after the preacher had summed up his stirring Swahili sermon on Paul’s chiding the Corinthians toward righteousness (Romans 3), Jennifer and I were both overwhelmed with this mass of small children, most of whom were visibly parent-less, and many of whom wanted to learn our names (and wanted us to learn their names as well). This game of name-learning and name-sharing broke out in full force once the service was dismissed, and my conversation with this score of Tanzanian kids turned into a full-blown cultural exchange of words and phrases when I busted out my trusty sketchbook and pens.

handy dandy Swahili-to-English dictionary and trusty
sketchbook. I wouldn't have gotten far without the dictionary
and I wouldn't have remembered much without the sketchbook.
both were great assets. pens not included.

Unlike Jennifer I am a visual, not an auditory learner. While she assimilated easily with the spoken Luo and Swahili, I was confronted with so much input that I turned to my good old sketchbook and handy dandy dictionary to learn the children’s names and phrases by drawing them out in my book and letting the kids write their own stories to go along with the sketches. What follows are the results of several hours of intense cross-cultural sketchbooking:

musilaba means cross

dogi means lips

rangi means red, blue, orange, and yellow?

oh wait... rangi means paint

and of course "ninja" is the same in all languages

The only thing more inspiring than the fact these kids were sketching and visualizing their culture in my sketchbook was that they were sketching and visualizing their culture in my sketchbook in a church – and in Tanzania of all places. It was an unbelievable experience to witness this after also witnessing God’s cross-cultural presence in the same building just a few hours earlier.

Back during the service as I sat listening to the head pastor's sermon, I felt God’s love in the words he was speaking… even though I couldn’t understand a single one of them! Simply listening to the passion of the testimonies, the joy of the singers, and the shouts of the performers brought me close to tears at one point. I felt God saying, “Look at all this love. How can you possibly doubt my presence in your own life when I am clearly present in the lives of these people a world away from Cincinnati.” What a revelation – and what love that God pours out on people to bring them into such a state of joy. I was blown away by this togetherness.  By seeing these Tanzanians growing together and striving to be more like Christ. Even as I write this I’m still trying to process the whole experience and come to grips with how an experience like this can be so simultaneously foreign, and yet also so incredibly relatable!

Needless to say, this church experience was the high-point of my week - maybe even the entire trip. The rest of our second week was spent much the same as the first; while working with other University of Cincinnati students, I continued taking measurements and sketches of the Roche Health Center.  I love sketching and mapping, and being able to draw and measure on site and away from the confines of studio was a nice break from typical desk-based architecture work.

hard at work at the RHC...
...Stanley Black and Decker style

the not-so-glamorous side of architecture:
as-built drawings!

Later in the week the men from our UC team got to play futbol with some of the locals (sorry, no girls allowed!) It was one of the special instances during the trip when, paradoxically, while we were fiercely competing in sports we muzungu foreigners felt more like we were on the same team with the native Tanzanians while competing together with them than if we were simply there.  Outright competition seemed more relevant and relateable than simply being there and culturally competing against them through inaction.

This brings me to a central point of my blog, which I haven’t spoken about enough, but which is crucial to life here in Africa. I haven't found a good word for the quality I'm trying to describe here, but something about the people in Tanzania (and in South Africa too, to a degree) speaks to an uncanny sense of optimism, positivity, and full-blooded life. I don’t know if there’s a word for it other than the African “CAN-do” spirit that I’ve named this blog after. Playing soccer with the local kids and experiencing the love of the local church church community brought on this feeling of hope more than just about anything I’ve experienced here so far – although in our soccer game we competed against each others, we competed together by working in teams to accomplish a goal.

futbol in Shirati

I guess I’m just a sucker for that team spirit, and I’m sure that I will revisit this un-named theme plenty more as the summer progresses.  But for now, let me leave you with one last image.

It may be idealistic, as it is something I've been thinking and dreaming about for quite some time, but I'm dreaming big for Africa.  I'm dreaming of an Africa in which every person has hope for life, a means to live their life fully, and a physical place to call home. Is that too much to hope for?  Like Abram believed God's covenant in Genesis, I want to believe that God has a great legacy in store for the people here, and great plans for all of Africa. It's a big world but it is full of hope.

And that is what I see.

-quote of the day-
"'Do not be afraid Abram.
I am your shield, your very great reward...
...Look up at the heavens and count the stars - if indeed you can count them... so shall your offspring be.'
...Abram believed the Lord and it was credited to him as righteousness"
Genesis 15: 1, 5-6