The Passions

Is it Petkov Day, Saint Petka, indeed? Tomo Mirkov of our clan will be the only one celebrating in the traditional fashion. The priest calling into his house prior to lunch being served to bless his bread, mention the dead in his prayers and disperse the frankincense from his censer, if the last was remembered right. Somewhere round noon this morning a talented muezzin gave his call while we made love again in the darkened room under the aircon, the voice from out behind Room Satu-umpat-nam perhaps one hundred metres off, not more and not amplified it seemed. The chap here had found a closeness to God and could encourage others with smoothest gentle hopes. In her pleasure and with her everyday familiarity Ni seemed not to have heard the call. Back in Geylang on point of departure cheeky Mr. Ah-ha-ha Chan had suggested in her deepest throes a woman would forget even her father's name. The man of the Land of Brothers, the Tanah Abang muezzin, kept his earthly passions in check, made love with some sense of Allah's bounty in mind, or possibly even remained celibate. At the other end of the spectrum stood Mr. Ah-ha-ha Chan, with a great deal of unaccountable jostling between the poles. It had been surprising to hear the call to prayer in Ni's kampung near Magalengka, especially the ashar and maghrib, was often sounded by a young primary school-aged lad not yet in his teens, as she revealed later in the evening. Nothing of this kind had been heard or reported in the region previously. A short way from Hotel Kalisma on Jl. Tubun another scamp of some kind had scrawled on a pylon in English, Take Acid & See God.