"Mourning While Muslim" on Mondoweiss
It is a man’s voice, low and sombre. My eyes drift down the hall that leads off from the snug kitchen where I sit. In the milky light of the November sunset, I see Musa, a wiry middle-aged man with a salt-and-pepper beard, prostrated in prayer. “Allahu Akbar,” he repeats, sitting up. Beside him, his twenty-three-year-old daughter, Nuna, follows his cue, her bent head enwrapped in a scarf of delicate floral print.
I glance across the table at Miriam, Nuna’s mother. Her small shoulders are slumping, her eyes distant despite the weak smile she’s pasted to her face. Quiet fills the room as the last light drains from the windows. It is November 14, a Saturday, and this weekend I am the guest of Nuna and her normally-effusive Egyptian family. It was in this devout Muslim household in a New York City suburb that I first heard the news of the Paris attacks. (Read more at Mondoweiss.com...)