The first 30 minutes 2.0

How much can you really learn about a place in the first thirty minutes of waking up? The answer is more the longer that I stay here.

This morning I awoke at 6:00 am to the sound of the mosque calling the community to prayer. Can you imagine if every single day the way that you wake up isn’t because of an alarm, rather, a speaker that sounds telling you and the rest of the community that it’s time to wake up––“ootna”? I opened my eyes to see the shade that I drew open the night prior to make sure that I would see the sunlight as the night changed to morning. Waking up to the sun is my favorite thing––some people love when rooms are pitch dark, but for me the most important aspect of any room is truly the natural light.

When the alarm sounded this morning, I was disheveled and also surprised to see that at 6:00 am it was still pitch dark out.

Three of us had plans to go for a walk. Shortly after I opened my eyes, I heard a knock on my door. In a daze, I muttered “ek second, ek second” as I pulled on a pair of pants, slipped my hood over my head and headed out the door.

It was a hazy morning––the dew and smoke from the stubble burnings hung shallow in the air. We exchanged few words as we made our way through the streets. I was surprised to see so many people beginning their days. Some began to take the shutters off of their shops, a few women huddles around a fire, with a table flipped on its side to shelter then from the breeze “havaa”.

As we meandered down the street, it was refreshing to see few people as they begun their days. In the first moments after waking, we were all in the same subtle fog, reminding ourselves of where we left our feet as our minds wandered off in sleep.

At one point, I heard a horn, honking constantly––I watched as a bus approached us, continuing to honk its horn. Instead of slowing in the presence of people, like a train barreling toward us, it rushed past––leaving us in it’s wake as the wind wiped through my hair in a flurry and then past––almost like the bus never passed through at all.

Because in many ways it didn’t––it brushed the corners of this place, but wouldn’t even slow to peer out at the life that’s goes on here.

How much can you really learn about a place––the answer is a lot––as I sit here and watch Arun fill his pen with ink because here you just refill pens I guess instead of buying new ones.

How innovative.