The ringtone in question was Shakira’s Hips Don’t Lie. No fightin’ No fightin’.
what is the vertiginous chapati saying to me?
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The ringtone in question was Shakira’s Hips Don’t Lie. No fightin’ No fightin’.
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I am reminded of a highlight from my first year at the Middle East Centre–in the midst of the interminable inaugural King Abdul Aziz ibn Saud lecture, delivered by some elderly German professor on the stimulating topic of “A Hundred Years of German-Saudi” relations or somesuch, the phone of one of the assorted Saudi digntaries in the front row of the lecture hall started ringing–with a tinny electronic version of the adhan.
e: was it salat time? or was every call for him a call to prayer [ahem].
it may actually have been, though if so, no one else was observing it. watching the various illustrious academics onstage struggle not to crack a smile was fun, though. ah nostalgia: that was also the term thomas friedman came to speak, and ended up swearing at me.