Prayer

I sat an exam this morning. It is a long time since I have taken any written exam, so it was a bit of a shock to face three hours of essay writing under controlled conditions. This marks the end of a post-grad module I have been studying in Development Management, through the Open University in the UK. It has been a fascinating course, looking at the prospects for Global Development in the 21^st century. I have been able to learn about the effects of colonialism, the rise of industrial capitalism and liberal democracy, the impact of the collapse of the Soviet Union and the end of the Cold War, the influence of the World Bank, International Monetary Fund and OECD countries, the acceleration of globalisation, the relative importance of the state, the market and civil society in determining development policy; quite a lot of stuff.

I took Wednesday off, to study at home. But on Tuesday, before I left the office my colleagues gathered in our office to offer prayers for my exam. Now this is a thing that never happened in my previous job! Together we were six Muslims and two Christians, and the prayers were mainly said in Wolof and Arabic. I was touched by the sincerity and kindness of my colleagues.

Prayer is a significant part of life in The Gambia. Public occasions often start with both Muslim and Christian prayers. Work meetings and training programmes usually begin with prayer. Even when we meet as a group of three or four colleagues to work together, we sometimes pause for a silent moment of prayer before we begin. One saying for a Muslim believer is that Islam is closer to him or her than their jugular vein. Before praying, each one performs their ablutions, washing the face, head, ears, mouth, nose, hands and feet three times over, to become ritually clean. On the street and in the market you see people washing as prayer time approaches, with water poured from colourful plastic kettles.

Many pray five times per day at set times. One such time is two o’clock in the afternoon when virtually all the men (it is the men; women pray separately and sometimes slightly later) working in the Education Department go down to the mosque behind our building. Around town at these times, those that cannot make it to a mosque unroll their mat wherever they are, face east, and pray. The daily prayers follow a routine of standing, bowing, and kneeling down with the forehead touching the ground. There is something very humbling about praying with your knees on the hard ground and your face in the sand – I know because I have tried it. There is something very collective about praying all together – old men, young boys, fathers and sons, bosses and workers, directors, drivers and street traders, the whole community at the mosque, jeans and t-shirts alongside elegant tunics, traditional mbonet hats next to dreadlocks.

These regular prayers have set words. The two most frequently repeated phrases are Allahu Akbar (God is great) and La Illah Illa Lahu (No God but Allah).

So I hope I pass my exam. I have God is on my side, so I should be OK. (And Allah too thanks to my colleagues). I don’t suppose that any amount of prayer makes up for lack of study, but I have tried my best. I could have done more, I suppose. I could certainly have done less. So we will see. And in a couple of weeks the next module starts. Allahu Akbar.