The voice of muezzin is flying in the streets and calling people to the near mosque for evening pray. It is very romantic, imagine man, how to his open hands is shooting appeal for all of the town’s inhabitants.  However in the time of technical progress even this function was assumed by amplifiers and records. One of the few, the Big mosque in Mecca is still loyal to tradition, which start in the time of the prophet. Those modern ones are often critizing by orthodox Muslim’s leaders.

Darkened streets of Kalandia (refuge camp establish in year 1949 between Jerusalem and Ramallah, near the check-point with same name) are slowly filled up by believers who are hurrying to the mosque for prayer. “Can I go with you,” I ask Adham that lives here and he is my host. He is little bit shocked but agree. Flow of people is directed to the alight entrance. Some faces are looking on me; say nothing, visage like stone.  I am putting my shoes to the board and my feet are touching the soft carpet, we are hurrying inside the sanctuary.  “I will stay here,” I whisper to my friend and sit near the back wall. Adham is joining the rest of the Muslims in the room. I didn’t see any woman here and even outside were none.

The prayer starts but still coming new and new people. Sometimes they are surprise by men sitting back, but say nothing. “Come to pray with us, if you would like,” saying by gests man who came. With excuse refusing and smiling, he smiles back and left. Words are in the air and men by theirs bodies are writing name of God in the space. “Every movement is one letter of name Allah in Arabic alphabet,” said me for explanation my friend Wajdi time ago.

“Are you Muslim,” ask me man, who tried to invite me for pray. Twisting my head and trying to explain, that I am not speaking Arabic. Some of the men start in my vicinity loudly arguing and pointing at me. My fuss is little bit higher. Adham is coming a talking with them. “You are welcome,” they say.

Some days later I am trying hide in another mosque in town Nablus because outside is rainy. Alone, without guide exactly in the time of pray. I am just sitting in silence and watching people around. Even thought I am trying to be invisible it is not so good working for me. Some men came to me and try to speak with me with smile. After while they are leaving, like me. I thank them.  Outside is not rainy anymore.