Sands of Redemption

3

After making sure each of them checked out, Rana bade them follow. At the intersection there was a tall, blue sign. On it were pictures and diagrams along with translations in multiple languages explaining the proper dress-code and behaviour. Down the bottom was a warning written in bold:

To disobey the law may incur a refusal of entry, a fine, corporal punishment or imprisonment, as decreed by the Islamic Religious Police

'Corporal punishment? Wow,' Bianca said. 'I wonder what that means?'

'A good, hard spanking?' someone sniggered.

Surrounded by green, manicured lawns and neat rows of palms and olive trees, the Religious Centre was beautiful and a welcome change to the concrete city Georgia had so far experienced. There were water fountains everywhere and the surrounding buildings were classically Arabian. There was an Islamic library, an Islamic school for boys complete with its own minarets, Abassa's national museum and a handful of traditional restaurants.

Most of the locals were dressed in traditional clothes: the women in their hijabs and abayas, some with niqabs or even burqas; the men in their white thobes and chequered shemaghs. And it was so quiet. Even young children seemed able to restrain themselves. It was as though they were encased in a dome of serenity, the rest of the world and its problems shut out and far away. Even the traffic was barely a hum.

'And this is Masjid al Rashid, Abassa's Grand Mosque,' Rana said with a sweep of her arm as it wandered into view.

All at once everyone began taking photos. With its white domes and golden spires, the Grand Mosque reminded Georgia of a smaller version of the Taj Mahal. Constructed of white stone, it was bold but beautiful and stood like a pearl amidst Hamrachi's dirty streets. Archways were carved into the outer walls, and faintly etched within each of those was a delicate floral design, their leafy vines reaching for each other from archway to archway.

At the centre of the outer wall were two enormous golden doors designed with more intertwining flowers. All around the perimeter of the Mosque stood palms, carefully tended hedges and date trees, which helped ease the Mosque's blazing whiteness. The six minarets stood like giant, pale sentinels above it all, piercing the sky.

'Gorgeous,' someone said.

'No expense denied for Islam,' someone retorted.

Guiding the group towards more seats, Rana explained a little about her religion.

'Muslims are expected to follow the five pillars of Islam, which is critical in building a life of devotion around Allah,' she explained. 'The first pillar is to speak the Shahadah, the declaration of one's faith. By doing this, one will automatically become Muslim. Salat is the next pillar, where we must pray five times a day. The Adhan, or Muslim call-to-prayer, which you've probably already heard, reminds us of our duty. Then there is Zakat, where we must give a portion of our savings as alms to the poor. Sawn is where we fast during Ramadam. And finally, there's the Hajj, where we must journey to Mecca at least once in our lifetime ...'

Sucking on the lip of her water bottle, Georgia's attention turned to a group of men standing by the mosque's open front doors. All of them looked classically Arabian in their white thobes and red and white chequered shemaghs which hung loosely over their shoulders, a black band looped around their heads to keep them in place. All of them had long curly beards.

Georgia poked Bianca in the shoulder, nodding towards them.

'Oh! Do you think that's them?' her friend whispered.

'I think so.' The Muttaween—the Religious Police. Georgia had read about them and that was as close as she wanted to get to know them.

'Are we able to go inside?' a girl asked once Rana had finished talking.