Calls to prayer

The concept of noise pollution is one that doesn't exist here.  Trucks and their horns are one example, the calls to prayer the other.  They come in a whole variety of shapes, volumes, tones of voice, fervencies and tunefulnesses.  And during Ramadan, there were a whole load of extra ones right through the night.

My particular favourite is one down the hill a bit who managed to get the airspace to himself for a few minutes the other evening.  He actually had rather nice intonation, made up some lovely soaring melodies (in tune!), and was obviously enjoying the delicious echo effect as his voice reverberated off the sides of the valley.  For a minute or two it wasn't dissimilar in effect and grandness to a brilliant Floyd-esque delay-laden guitar solo.

Others are less melodious.  Some sound distinctly belligerent.  And one is obviously a child's voice, which when echoing out through a crackly tannoy system feels faintly grotesque.  Like one of those meant-to-be-amusing-but-is-actually-really-quite-disturbing clowns.

But they reach their full cacophonous glory when half a dozen of them go for it at once, competing for sound-space and the honour of being the loudest.

I can't help feeling that it's job my middle-brother-as-a-child would have delighted in.