They say that Singapore is a fine city, as in, you get fined for everything, chewing gum, defacing property, et al. But I couldn't imagine that any cosmopolitan place in the world wouldn't have graffiti.
Around the corner, I saw the first Muslim cemetery of my life.
I also entered the first mosque of my life today. Removing my shoes and covering my shoulders, I was met by a guide who reviewed the house rules. No video cameras, no shoes, appropriate covering of body parts, no stepping on the carpet and no going up the stairs. Ok. I walked in expecting something. The hidden secrets of what? Allah only knows. Having been prevented from entering the mosque we visited before, and my mom every other mosque she'd ever visited, there is something taboo, forbidden crossing the threshold.
From what I understand, Islam discourages idolatry and excess, favoring simplicity. It was indeed simple. There were no embossed crucifixions, no ornate pews or chandeliers, no microphone system for the preacher. A few men came and went, as did women, although they are relegated to the balcony to pray, hidden from view by a screen.
Let's face it. Islam is a mystery to me. From customs of women being required to cover themselves to hearing of eight year-old girls being married off to fifty year-old men in Saudi Arabia, I struggle to untangle and understand what it is to be Muslim. For the women. For the men. But in a mosque today, it seemed no different than praying in any church, temple, synagogue. Although I have to admit, the thought of being put up in the balcony reminded me of scenes in the movie To Kill a Mockingbird. Only in this instance, we'd all be segregated by genitalia.
1 comment:
So did you sneak the photo then?
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