Muslim Brotherhood

I went to a lecture by Mohamed al Mahdi Akef, the head of the Muslim Brotherhood of Egypt. He spoke for about two hours, but never really said anything.
The lecture, followed by question and answer, was on campus. I hadn't seen it advertised anywhere on campus - they usually try to keep a relatively low profile for political events - I'll probably receive an email tomorrow inviting me to it. We got there about 15 minutes before it began and got some of the last seats and the last pairs of English translation headphones.
Going to see the head of the Muslim Brotherhood speak, I was expecting an Ayatollah Khomeini like figure, in full robes and beard. Instead, was a little bald man in a charcoal gray suit - I assumed he was a professor moderating the event until he began speaking.
Akef (I'm not really sure which of his names to use, so I'll be American and just use his last one) began speaking. He spoke in Arabic - I had simultaneous translation, but not by the best translator on Earth.
The European politicians are supposed to be bad about talking in circles endlessly about nothing, but Akef could beat almost any of them at that game. Because he realized that he was talking to a less than receptive crowd (the audience was composed of a sample of the AUC community: professors and international students - not many Egyptian students attended) he had to avoid certain subjects.
During the question and answer period, he kept getting questions such as:

“What would the Muslim Brotherhood do with respect to Egypt's peace treaty with Israel if it gained power?”
He responded with (shortened from a 5 minute ramble) “It's always wise to review foreign policy occasionally, so our experts would review it and determine if it best suits our current interests.”

“What would the role of non-Muslims and women be in a MB controlled Egypt?”
“Well, we would consult scripture. Non-Muslims would not be discriminated against. They could practice religion in their homes, just not in public. We recognize that there are Christians in Egypt. We would not force them to convert. They could have their religion, they just must respect the rule of Islam, since Egypt is an Islamic country.”

“What about cases of Muslims who convert away from Islam?”
“The Koran says 'If a Muslim claims to no longer be Muslim, kill him.”

I've been tutoring at a mission here that teaches English to Sudanese refugees the past few weeks. I go after my last class Mondays and Wednesday and tutor one-on-one for the adults. Sometimes they bring me their homework assignment, which we work through - though one fellow I've stopped being too helpful with on that since I realized that he was basically trying to get me to do his homework for him. Sometimes they have vocabulary that they want me to check their pronunciation on or explain the definitions of. In most cases, my Arabic isn't good enough to be of any use, so I have to explain the word using English. Some are easy enough: factory, manager, or battery (though that one required disassembling my cell phone). Some seem like odd choices for beginning vocabulary for Sudanese refugees - one assignment required listing all of the possibly uses of the internet, fax machines, pagers, and CDroms, without explaining what any of those were. Some were such common words that I couldn't even think of a way to explain them using other English words: “requirement” took several minutes, and I'm not sure that he ever understood it. It's really made me think about definitions of words that we take for granted.
Sometimes we just chat to let them practice, which lets me get to know them a little better. My first few weeks I was confused as to why they wanted to learn English - they all said that they wanted to do it for the job opportunities, but I didn't really understand how English would help them that much in the Cairo job market - the only place where that would be that helpful would be in some sort of office job (which they probably are not qualified for) or in one of the stores or restaurants in Zamalek (the island where I live with all the other ex-pats) which they would never be hired for since they are Sudanese. Last week I learned from one of my students that most of them were either planning on returning to the Sudan or immigrating to the US, Canada, or Israel. Unfortunately, that brought up the subject of getting a visa to any of those countries, which it seems none of them are able to do.
There's one student that I've had 2 or 3 times. The first time, we were just chatting, when he said “I am born again.” With his accent, I wasn't entirely sure of what he said, thinking that he had instead said “I am bored again.” I was trying to think of a way to liven up the conversation when he repeated it and I realized what he meant. He then went on talking about how important God was and how he had been saved. Then he asked if I was Christian. I said yes since, regardless of whatever your religious beliefs might actually be, it's usually easiest to just say that you're Christian when people in Egypt ask even though my version of Christianity probably doesn't overlap with his that much (at least from what I've seen of people who identify themselves as “born-again.”). He then asked what I did every Sunday. I admitted that I did not go to church. He started to tell me how bad that was. I explained that, I have class every Sunday, the churches here are different than what I'm used to, and I haven't been able to find a church yet in Cairo - there's one across the street from my building, but he doesn't know that. He went on to list all of the churches in Cairo that I could choose from, making sure to mention which ones were English speaking. I promised to visit one and then our session ended.
The next week, I had the same fellow. After we went through his new vocabulary, we had a few minutes left for conversation. The first thing that he asked was what I had done Sunday. I had to admit that I had not gone to church. I got a 15-minute lecture on why I should go to church. On the bright side, he got to practice his English a lot that day.

Morocco

Here's a long post detailing my week in Morocco. Pictures should be on my flickr page: http://www.flickr.com/photos/dnutt/

If you want the SparkNotes version:

Went to Casablanca.
Went to Rabat - friends showed us around to some cool ruins and gave us really good homemade food.
Ended up spending the night in someone's beach house in Bouznika.
Discovered Fez closes for Eid, contemplated ditching Morocco for Spain, but decided to go on to Marrakech instead.
Marrakech is touristy, but has really cool gardens and palace ruins.
Nightlife in Morocco is really just a giant lie - it exists in a perpetual state of “tomorrow.”

The full version:

Our flight out of Cairo was scheduled for 3 am, so we left for airport at about 11 and made it there without any incidents. We checked in and proceeded through Egyptian passport control. Katie (one of my traveling companions) and I made it through without any questioning - just a quick stamp on our passports, but our third traveler, Edward, was stopped by the official:

Why are you going to Morocco?
Vacation.
Why are you flying through Milan? Why not fly direct?
It was the cheapest flight?
Hmph. And the traveling company is better?

I'm not sure if company refers to the other passengers or the airline.
About 5 hours later, we arrived in Milan, went through airport security (apparently they don't trust the screening the Cairo airport does of its passengers) and enjoyed a few hours back in the western world - clean, free restrooms, queues, and Italian pizza.
After another 5-hour flight, we arrived in Casablanca. We collected our baggage, discovered that Egyptian pounds are entirely worthless for exchange outside Egypt, found an ATM, and took the train into the city.
Our Lonely Planet guide had recommended a hotel downtown, which we took a taxi to, found out that the had vacancy (we later realized that they were probably entirely vacant, since we didn't see any other guests the entire time that we were there), and negotiated a price. After we checked in, we discovered that there was no hot water, and the only light in the bathroom burned out when we first turned it on, so it was showering by the light that came over the top of the door.
After a nap (we were a bit tired of sleeping on a plane the night before) we set off for dinner. The Lonely Planet had recommended a seafood restaurant in the medina, so we set off in search of it. After a bit of wandering (the city was deserted for iftaar, the breaking of the Ramadan fast) we found the restaurant, which appeared to have gone out of business. We also realized that almost every restaurant in Casablanca closes for the breaking of the fast (which I found a bit ironic) but eventually found a French restaurant open. We had a couscous and chicken dish that was by far the best I have ever had.
After dinner, we wandered around the medina a bit and then decided to walk down to the Hassan II Mosque, the recently completed, at a cost of several billion dollars, mosque that is one of the four or so currently claiming to be the largest on Earth. We were discussing which direction it was when a man overheard us and interjected, "Don't walk down there now - it's not safe at night.” He claimed that he worked for the police - though he was dressed in a business suit and didn't really look like a policeman. He advised us to stay in the Medina for the rest of the evening. After Egypt, we're used to people trying to mislead us, but this man didn't try to lead us into any shops or do anything that he could possibly benefit from, so we decided he might actually be telling us the truth, so we gave up on the mosque.
The next morning, we took a train to Rabat. Although it has about 600,000 residents and is national capital, it feels almost like a little beach town. It's clean, laid out in the European manner, and generally just feels relaxed. We checked one hotel, discovered that they didn't have any triple rooms. The second, Hotel Splendide, had an open triple, with a nice view of the courtyard and functioning hot water and bathroom light, so we checked in.
Edward's former roommate's mother and her husband, Lilly and Hassan, live in Rabat, and had offered to show us around while we were in town. They told us to take a cab, telling the taxi driver a phrase, that through our collective French, we determined was “take us to the Institute of Emissions Service” that she swore any driver would understand. After a short ride, we discovered that they live in the apartment building directly across from the center where all of the cabs are tested for emissions outputs, which happens to be directly on the beach - Moroccans don't value a beach view much, allowing an emissions center to be built on prime beachfront property.
After some cokes and a light snack, Lilly decided that we needed to see the Chellah Necropolis, which is the ruins of a Roman city and Moroccan tombs, now a garden. We wandered through, took in the views, climbed on the ruins (they don't try to rope them off or anything).
Afterwards, Hassan had to stop by work, which is a furniture store, so we went with him to see the market in which it was located. The business he had to go back for was the Syrian Embassy coming by to buy some sofas, so we sat in the back and watched the transaction.
Afterwards, we went back to the apartment for dinner. We had talked about going out to eat, but Hassan told us the best food in Morocco was not found in restaurants, so he had the wife of one of his friends cook pastille for us. While we were waiting for it to arrive, Hassan's sister made us mint tea - the first of many glasses that we would have in the next week. In a combination of French and Arabic, with the help of Hassan and Lilly's daughter Nicole translating, she told us about how she had bought new shoes, since she is moving to Florida in a few weeks and it's cold there and showed off her new English skills: “Hello.” “How are you?” and “My name is.”
In describing pastille to us, Hassan had described it as ground Chicken on bread with cinnamon and sugar on top. At the time, I thought that he was combining the description of the chicken and dessert. Once it arrived, I realized that it was actually one dish. While the thought of putting cinnamon and powdered sugar on top of chicken normally sounds repulsive, it was actually amazing - really rich though.
After dinner, we walked through the medina (the old city and location of the bazaar). The majority of Moroccan men wear bright yellow leather shoes, which I was tempted to buy a pair of. I decided to buy a pair of black ones instead, rationalizing that I might actually wear them, unlike the yellow ones.
The next morning, we checked out of our hotel, as Lilly had insisted that we stay with her for the second night.
For lunch, Hassan found a woman to cook another Moroccan dish for us - another giant bowl of chicken, this time with peppers and pastry, but still incredibly rich.
We had planned on going to see the Gardens Exquite outside of the city, but it was outside of the range of the cabs. A bus ran out to it, but Hassan insisted that he take off work, borrow someone's truck, and drive us. Since he had devoted the entire day before to showing us around the city, we decided that we couldn't allow him to. Instead, we headed down to the beach, about a 15-minute walk from the apartment. The sand was a little bit dirty, there was litter, and there were no waves due to the beach being in the harbor, which all around made it a less than picturesque beach. It was an urban beach though, so there were quite a few Rabatians (or whatever you call the residents of Rabat) out playing soccer, jogging, and doing martial arts, which made it much more interesting than a typical beach.
When we returned to the apartment, we found Lilly working away in the kitchen making enchiladas - having fellow Americans in the house had inspired her to cook Mexican - with her friend Nita. While we were waiting for dinner to finish, Nita came up with the idea of all of us going out to her beach house for dinner. After insisting several dozen times that she was serious - she had also invited us to spend the night there rather than at Lilly's - we agreed. We packed up dinner, piled into her Fiat (which should never hold 5 full sized people) and made the half our drive to Bouznika, where we found out that Nita lived in a 3 story villa, directly on the ocean - we all became insanely jealous when she told us that her rent was less than $1000 US per month.
We had originally planned on going to Fez the next day, but Lilly and Nita warned us that since Eid (the end of Ramadan holiday) was starting, everything there, including the train, would be shut down for a few days. We considered changing our plans entirely and going to Spain, since we knew that it would not be closed, but decided that we would go on to Marrakech instead, figuring that it was touristy enough to still be functioning.
We got to Marrakech; found a hotel, directly on the main town square, with a large terrace, for a really good price. We walked around the square for a while. It's populated by storytellers, snake charmers, orange juice and nut vendors, henna artists (one of which accosted us, gesturing at us with the needle that they draw with, saying “Henna?” in a creepy voice - we all had nightmares about her) and European tourists. After Casablanca and Rabat, neither of which is very touristy, it was a pretty big change. The effect was “Disney does the Middle East.” The vendor stands were all fake wagons, laid out identically (every nut vendor had almonds in the upper left, pistachios next to them, etc.) and wore the same uniforms. The snake charmers were a bit out of place, since that tradition is not Arab or Berber, but Indian, but fits in with the concept of the mystique of the orient, so it satisfies tourists. With my dislike of snakes, it provided one more obstacle, in addition to crazy old henna women, to dodge while walking across the square.
We had dinner in a rooftop restaurant across the square. I had the chicken tajine - which was excellent. We ran into another group of students from AUC - proving that the world really is too small.
We visited the Menara Gardens. Katie and Edward were disappointed that the gardens consisted entirely of an olive grove, but the pavilion and lake were picturesque around sunset. Edward considered riding a camel, but decided it was overpriced (roughly ten times the price at the pyramids for about a tenth the length of the ride).
We visited the Majorelle Gardens, which satisfied Katie and Edward since it had actual flowers and trees. The museum of Moroccan art there, which contained some modern art in addition to the ancient, intricately carved objects.
We visited the Saadian Tombs, stood in line with a busload of Germans, and got our 30 seconds to view the interior - impressive, but maybe not worth the wait.
We went back to our hotel and had lunch since most of the attractions close for a few hours in the middle of the day. In the few minutes between entering the hotel and getting up to our room, the sky clouded over, it got windy, and the temperature dropped about 15 degrees. Within a few minutes it started raining. Since we had all been in Cairo since August, and had thus not seen a drop of rain in months, we were thrilled. We decided that, since it was merely drizzling, we'd just put on rain-coats and go on with our afternoon of visiting the El Badi Palace - the remains of a 16th century palace. We got some great photos ( http://www.flickr.com/photos/dnutt/ ) and explored the tunnels of the dungeon - again, nothing is fenced off or protected in any way.
As we were leaving, the drizzle turned into a downpour. Suddenly, every taxi in the city was occupied. We tried finding a restaurant to wait out the storm in, but everything in the neighborhood was closed for Eid. After standing under and awning for a while, we found a free taxi and made it back to our hotel.
The next morning, as we were getting ready to leave for the Jewish quarter, one of the hotel employees knocked on the door and told us that the reception desk needed to see us. I assumed they wanted some sort of payment since we had been there three nights and had yet to give them any (or even a credit card). We get downstairs and find the manager, who tells us that we cannot stay another night because the hotel is full. We try to argue with him, but he just replies that it is “impossible” and that if we have no written proof that we checked in for 4 nights, there is nothing that we can do. We ask if he could provide us with some guidance on finding another hotel, to which he replies, “There are many hotels in Marrakech, just find one.” We resisted the urge to cuss him out for kicking us out of the hotel when we had a reservation and being entirely worthless in helping us locate another hotel, packed our bags, and set off in search of a new hotel. We found one about a block away, slightly cheaper, though with no hot water and no towels. We decided we could do without showers for one night and checked in.
Katie and I set off for the Jewish cemetery. Our map was fairly vague as to where it was located, so we headed off in the general direction. After about 20 minutes with no luck, we spotted Hebrew characters over a gate. The gatekeeper let us in and directed us to the cemetery. It was several acres of whitewashed tombs stretching out into the distance, all that remains of Marrakech's once large Jewish population (along with the 240 current Jews). We wandered around, took some photos, and then the gatekeeper tried to give us a brief history. Unfortunately, I speak no French, and he spoke little English, so all that I really understood was that the white tombstones were graves and that the cemetery was old - both of which I had already figured out. We gave him a few Durhams for the cemetery restoration fund, at which point an ancient little man appeared and asked, in some language that I didn't recognize as Arab or French or Hebrew, for some change. We gave him a Durham to escape, which he didn't appear to appreciate.
We took the train back to Casablanca, found a different hotel - this one with hot water, towels, and a bathroom light. We returned to the French restaurant and had the same couscous - still amazing. Afterwards, since it wasn't dark yet, we decided it was safe to walk down to the giant mosque. We reached it at dusk. It was …. giant. And looked expensive. It was Friday, the Muslim holy day, so we couldn't actually go inside, but we took pictures from the outside.
On our way back, we walked past Rick's American Café, recreated from the set of Casablanca and stopped for a drink. Oddly enough, it was the only nightspot we found open in all of Morocco. Before we went, we were told that Moroccan nightlife was amazing, but every night that we went out, we were told, “Oh, tonight's the last night of Ramadan - Tomorrow,” “Tonight's Eid - Tomorrow,” “Tonight is still Eid - Tomorrow,” “It's Thursday - Tomorrow,” leading me to believe that the nightlife there is really a giant myth.

Our arrival into the airport and the trip to the dorms was very stereotypical Cairo.
Our plane lands at 2:15, so we get the aerial view of the city's lights. For the last fifteen minutes of the flight, the lights of the city stretch into the distance as far as we could see. I realize we were getting close to central Cairo when the ground beneath us begins to look foggy and the lights a more brownish color due to the pollution.
The plane lands, the American/European system of exiting the plane in which you politely allow the people in rows in front of you to go first is abandoned as we all fight our way to be first. We walk through the empty arrivals terminal, past the duty free shops that sell kitchen appliances, electronics, and luggage in addition to the normal duty-free products. At the immigration window, I am spared the questioning of my reasons for coming to Egypt thanks to my Egyptian residency visa.
In the “Arriving in Cairo” section of AUC's international student handbook, it states: “The best way into Cairo is to use the Misr Limousine service. They will take you and your luggage to your destination for a fixed price. The alternative is the black and white taxis that wait at the curb. Try to avoid these. They are very bad.” Of course there are never actually any of the Misr Limousines at the airport, so we have to use the black and white taxis. When we exit the airport, about half a dozen men accost us, saying “Taxi, taxi. I will take you to Cairo.” We choose a random man, ask him for a fare, and he tells us LE 50 (about $10). We negotiate him down to LE 40. They don't allow taxis to wait near the arrivals terminal, so we have to take a shuttle out to a parking lot. The driver herds us aboard as we are still discussing whether we want to wait for him. In the minute before the shuttle leaves, he finds 3 more people (all AUC students, though living in a different part of town) to take as well, swearing that he has a large enough cab.
We get out to the parking lot and are led to his taxi, which is a real taxi - there is a problem in Cairo of men claiming to be taxi drivers, who have only normal cars, and try to rip you off even more than normal taxi drivers. He loads our luggage in the trunk and on top, we get in, and then our driver disappears. A few minutes later, he reappears, hops in, and we head off towards Cairo.
At 3 a.m., there isn't much traffic on the highway, so we head into town at full speed. We still dodge the occasional donkey cart or pedestrian on the highway though. Our driver honks his horn the entire time. Sometimes to make other cars or pedestrians aware of his presence, sometime to hurry other cars out of his way, and sometimes, when no one else is around, for no reason at all. We drop of the other AUC students downtown and then head to Zamalek. The driver swore he knew where the AUC dorms were, but we still have to tell him which end of the island we're on. We drive past the guards standing in front of the Indian embassy, waking them up, past the policemen on the corner with their non-functioning automatic rifles slung over their shoulders, though empty streets, announcing our presence to everyone with the constant honking.
We get to the dorms, get out, hand the driver our 40 pounds, and are amazed when he doesn't ask for more.

Black and White Deserts

We left Cairo at 8 Friday morning in a microbus. With no traffic, we were out of town in less than half an hour. The trip to Bahariya Oasis took a little less than 4 hours. When we got to the oasis, the driver stopped in front of a house, pointed towards a door, and told us goodbye. We went inside to find a one-room house (we later found out it was the home of the owner of the safari company). No one was around, so we sat down on the floor and waited. About 5 minutes later, two girls, about 5 or 6 years old came in, greeted each of us individually in Arabic, and then left, returning a few minutes later with a tray of food.
We ate, and then sat for a few more minutes, waiting on a guide or anyone over the age of 10 to tell us what was going on. Then our guides arrived - Mahmoud and Mohamed. They led us out to the jeeps and we set out across the desert. We rode along for an hour or so before we turned off the highway into the open desert. We went about a mile across the sand (which you apparently use exactly the same rules for driving on that you use for snow) to some hills. I'm afraid to say that I'm unable to fully describe them - giant cliffs, of white, chalk-like stone. See my flickr page for pictures.
Next we headed to the White Desert, named for the white dune-like rock formations sticking up out of the sand, where we were camping for the night. Again, I don't think that my descriptions can do justice to the landscape - see my flickr page.
We hiked around the area, took pictures, and tried to decide what shapes the different rock formations resembled (similar to lying on your back and trying to decide whether a cloud looks like a rabbit or a freight train) while our guides set up our campsite. We came back to find that, not only had they built a fire, they had built a nice three-walled structure, complete with carpeting. The sun was setting, so it was time for out guides to break their Ramadan fasts. We had a nice dinner of chicken and rice (both cooked over the fire while we were out hiking) that was actually one of the better meals that I've eaten in Egypt.
Our guides had set up our sleeping bags in the shelter, but all of us decided that we would rather sleep out in the desert (we asked our guides, they said that there was no danger, but were still a little bit confused as to why we would want to do such a thing).
With a full moon, no clouds, and the white desert to reflect light, it never really got dark, though in the middle of the night the temperature plummeted. About an hour before sunrise, I woke up and decided to go for a hike. Even without the sun, it was pretty easy to avoid getting lost - I walked out to the giant chicken, then the mushroom, and all the way to Snoopy. I came back and found a nice boulder to climb and watch the sunrise.
A few of the other people I was traveling with had the same idea and ended up joining me. The scene could only be described by referencing the scene at the beginning of one of the Star Wars movies (I'm not sure which one, though it was one of the original three) in the desert where the hooded creatures are wandering around individually (most of us were wrapped in blankets to fight off the cold) in total silence (you could hear footsteps from a full hundred yards off).
After breakfast, we packed up and headed to the black desert - again see the pictures since I can't describe it. We climbed one of the hills, though I don't really know why - we all came down with numerous scratches and minor cuts and bruises, but no major injuries.
After another hour or so on the road, I was thinking about how hot and dry it was and how nice a swim would be, though how difficult that would be to arrange in the middle of a desert, when we drove through another oasis. Our guides stopped in front of a concrete irrigation pool and gestured at it, making swimming motions (supposedly they spoke English, supposedly we speak some Arabic, but most of our communication with them was through gestures).
Despite the fact that I had to spend the next few hours in somewhat wet clothing, it was a nice swim, though I hope that we weren't swimming in the town's drinking water supply - I followed the stream leading away from the pool for a ways and it looked like it went only to irrigating the fields.
After that, the guides took us back to our departure point, where the same girls gave us lunch again, we paid our guides, and got on our microbus back to Cairo.

In other news, I'm starting into mid-term season, so the week and a half left before my trip to Morocco will be busy. I'm also starting tutoring Sudanese refugees in English later this week, which I'm looking forward to.

I just purchased plane tickets for our post-Ramadan break: 8 days in Morocco. Now I need to figure out the rest of the itinerary. I'm thinking Fez and Marrakech. One of the fellows that I'm traveling with has some friends who live in Morocco, so we may alter our trip slightly for that if they are willing to be our hosts or tour guides.
Since AUC decided today that they would have a holiday Thursday for Egyptian Armed Forces Day, I think that I'm going with some friends to the Black and White Desert for a camping trip.
I have a meeting later this week talk to the director of a school that teaches Sudanese refugee children English, where I will probably be tutoring this semester.
In other news, not much new has happened. The 104-degree weather this weekend discouraged me from venturing out too much, though I did make it to Khan el Khaleely, the bazaar that's been around for about a millennium, Friday night. Some parts of it were extraordinarily touristy, but some parts of it were really cool. We wandered down a few of the streets (streets being a loose word since they are about 4 feet wide -hallways might be better) and found some areas that looked like they hadn't been updated that much since the Middle Ages.
As you walk along the busier streets, you constantly encounter people saying, “I have exactly what you're looking for,” “high quality products,” or “best price.” We passed one shopkeeper who was instead shouting, “How can I take your money?” At least someone is honest. We passed by Al Azhar University (the Islamic university in Cairo) and listened to a few minutes of the Council of Islamic Issues have a debate. Unfortunately, none of us know enough Arabic to actually understand what they were saying - it sounded important though.

I'm sitting in a Costa Coffee in Cairo, writing a poli-sci paper. Brittany Spear's Crazy is playing. I just finished a latte. The man at the next table reads The International Herald Tribune. I could be in the US.
Now there's a child, about 6 years old, tapping on the window beside me. He makes the hand-to-his-mouth gesture that is the Cairo symbol for “I'm starving, please give me money.” The doorman of the coffee shop sees him and shoos him off.
At the mosque across the street, located on the basement level of Rose Land flower shop, Ramadan evening prayers are going on. Whenever the door to the coffee shop opens, I hear a moment of the prayers being played over a loudspeaker. Green rugs are spread over the sidewalk outside. Men take off their shoes and pray. On Fridays, the mosque carpets most of the street. Monday night must be slower; they only take over a few feet of the sidewalk.
The music changes to a techno song I've never heard before. I consider switching to my headphones.
The eight employees stand about, considerably more animated than they were when I last saw them, at mid-afternoon, in the final stretch before iftaar.