3
The Journey
Zahra waited at the open front door with Ahmad. The sun was just setting and she shivered when she heard the beginning of the azan-e mahgreb. The first call was always from the minaret of the Masjid-i Jami, the Friday mosque, in the centre of Herat. The muezzin’s voice echoed across the silent city from the ancient building. ‘Alloooooh u Akbooooor!’ He drew out the syllables as he sang the words: ‘God’s mightiness is beyond description …’ Slowly the call was taken up by other mosques until it made the familiar circular sound she loved.
‘Move,’ Mahmoud ordered, throwing her bag at her.
Ahmad was excited and wide awake. He had his hand in one of the pockets of the parka, the other in hers. She pulled up the hood over his thick black hair and bent to fix it.
‘Now, woman!’ M
