"..... it would be time for the evening portion of our walk, if, that is, Omar One had not shown up for a reading from the Qur’an, or Omar Two did not loom above us to assess our readiness to become his brothers in faith.
Those sessions, or our walk, would eventually be interrupted by their evening prayers. After some discussion Louis and I decided, almost from our arrival at Camp Canada, that we would show respect for their so deeply cherished religion by standing— during the daylight prayers—while they assembled in a single line facing east fifty metres away from us. That practice was fiercely resented by those few who believed it to be cravenly designed to curry their favour but admired by most, who took it to be a freely offered sign of respect. In fact, I found the chanting, rhythmic, soft voice of the imam rather soothing, and those became welcome contemplative moments during which I developed a ritual of my own.
I have, since an early age, found religion faintly ridiculous. I do not write this to cause offence to anybody and hope I have not done so. Indeed, I respect the evident fact that many wise people and some close friends profoundly disagree with me on this rather fundamental point, beginning with Louis. So, while these jihadi fundamentalists prayed to their god and Louis spoke to his, I talked to my family. (Robert Fowler. A Season In Hell: My 130 Days In The Sahara With All Qaeda)
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