How the times have changed

January.1. 2017

Growing up in Borneo, my favorite time of day was evening. That was when the hot afternoon sun would finally set, giving way to cool breezes and warm nights.

And in the distance, the quiet sounds of evening prayers wafting through the air.

Back in the day, I used to love the sound of those prayers. They spoke to me of a gentle race and a kind and mystical religion.

How the times have changed.

These days, on my occasional trips back to that idyllic place, the prayers no longer waft through the air but blare out from loudspeakers at every corner, as if demanding that you stop whatever you’re doing and listen or else.

And telling you how holy they are. (Much holier than you because unlike you, they pray more times a day.)

And the funny thing is, the louder the prayers get, the more bloody the evening news seem to become.

Is there a connection, I wonder?

These days, when I hear those prayers (you don’t have much choice, they make sure you hear them) they only speak to me of death and destruction.

How the times have changed.

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