The distinctly Muslim character of Bangladesh became more apparent to me last night than it previously had. To be sure, in the everyday life of Bangladesh Islam is evident everywhere. The calls to prayer begin around 430 am each morning and echo from multiple mosques within earshot. Its not uncommon to see women wearing the burka, some with their faces covered, but most just with the heads covered. Muslim men and boys wearing the tupi (cap) and punjab (long shirt) are always visible in the streets. Young boys can be seen in the mosques swaying to their studies of the Quran, and beggars chant in the streets Allah, Allah, Allah

But last night's experience opened my eyes more intimately to Islam here. Faith and I were invited to a 'death anniversary' at a neighbor's apartment. The apartment is actually two that can be joined by opening a double door inside. The women went in one apartment and the men into the other, so we could see each other, but were clearly separated for the occasion. (Yazzie got to go to the womens side). I entered the men's side and took my place on the floor with about forty Muslim men.

An elderly man was chanting into a microphone and periodically everyone joined him. I couldn't understand the Arabic chants, but wasalam made frequent appearance. No one seemed to be particularly sad or happy; rather it seemed to be a matter of fact occasion, performed with some element of respect. This ritual lasted about one hour long enough for my inner rejoicing whenever the standing parts arose because my legs were sleeping like mad from sitting cross-legged on the tiles. The chants were intermingled with short sermons in Bangla. No one seemed to mind my being there even though it was clear that I'm not a Muslim. Faith told me later that meanwhile on the women's side they were mostly occupied with passing Yazzie around to each other, but also participated in the prayers and posturing that went along with it. Every woman, right down to the girl toddlers had their heads covered for respect. After the ceremony was over, we had a huge feast of rice, goat, and chicken.

We left that evening not entirely sure of what had taken place. Our language tutor is a Muslim and when she arrived the next day Faith asked her what a 'death anniversary' was for. She said it is a ceremony of prayers for the deceased, for the forgiveness of their sins, so that they would find peace. She said that when you die, you can't pray for yourself anymore, so your family takes up the torch for you. She pointed out to Faith that Muslims have a distinct advantage over Christians in this regard since they can pray for their deceased relatives any time they want, but for Christians it's all over at death. I'm still not clear on what advantage the living have over the dead when it comes to prayer in the Muslim worldview, but perhaps I'll learn more on the topic over time.

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