Traditionally, there is something quite romantic and exotic about Muslim prayer, rolling through the night, delivered by a single, deep baritone.However, the mystique rapidly deteriorates, when, come the last night of Ramadan, that single trained voice is joined by hundreds of others, including the quite horrendous addition of tone-deaf child proteges (a sound not unlike a religious cat in heat).
Add to the mix fireworks and 5 year olds on homespun drums, and the end of Ramadan in West Java, soon takes on a quite dark pallor for the unbeliever.
This non-symphonic rapture continues until dawn. And just as one finally feels sleeps desperate embrace, the dreaded cat-child asks Dad for one final spin on the dreaded Megaphone 1000, and the quiet madness of the middle aged expatriots one meets, makes complete sense.
