My friend and Afghanistan Presidential candidate Haji Ajmal
Shamali is a quietly devout man. While
living in quarters provided by Ajmal in Kabul in 2009, I came to Ajmal as a
person who walks quietly, but carries a deep and profound love for his religion
and for his country within him.
At the time I lived in a room on the second floor of a house
that is situated next to his business office compound. Next to the office compound is a mosque. As with all mosques this one has a speaker
mounted on a tall steel pole. The
mullah’s prayers are broadcast on the speakers.
The first of five daily prayers take place one hour before
sunrise. The mullah announces his call
to prayer loudly via the loudspeaker.
The first night I slept in that room I was awakened at around 5:00 a.m.
by what sounded to me like a man standing in my bedroom and shouting at me.
I leapt from my sleeping pallet wondering if I was being
attacked. My first thought was that
armalan, my night time bodyguard must have fallen asleep or been knocked
out. Spinning around in the dark room in
a ridiculous parody of some Kung fu fighter, I found nobody there.
Then I realized the sound was outside my bedroom
window. Gazing out I saw a big rusty
speaker mounted on a pole at the elevation of my window and seemingly aimed
directly into my window. For the next
month, I woke every morning at the same time to the mullah’s call to morning
prayer coming to me in a loud thin sound that vibrated as if the loudspeaker
were about to come apart.
Then one morning there was no prayer call. I slept until awoken by daylight, around 6:00
a.m. The speaker had come apart and was
no longer functioning. When I went down
to the office I mentioned to Ajmal that I had slept in because there was no
morning prayer over the loudspeaker. He
shrugged and said thank you. I wondered
why he would say thank you, but then I sat at my desk and began my work day,
thinking no more about the loudspeaker.
The next few mornings were – for me anyway – blissfully
quiet. I can honestly say I did not miss
the loud 5:00 a.m. wake up call.
Then on a cool morning, with the sky still black and
sprinkled by thousands of tiny stars, the call to morning prayer once again
blasted into my bedroom. I again leaped
from the floor, but this time I knew I was not being attacked. On this morning the sound was much louder
than before. The thin tinny quality was
gone and I could actually understand what was being said over the speaker.
When Ajmal arrived at the office later, I mentioned to him
that the loudspeaker was back to working again.
I told him it sounded louder and much clearer. My good friend smiled and then told me that
Yes he had gone immediately to he mosque and made arrangements for a new and
better speaker to be installed.
I smiled and went back to my desk where i buried my mind in
the work on the computer screen. But
later that night, as I lay in bed reviewing the day’s activities I smiled once
more as I compared Haji Ajmal Shamali’s response to the broken loudspeaker to
what my response had been.
Working closely with this man day after day without him ever
preaching to me one time, has made me more introspective about my own religious
beliefs.