In a small red-tiled-roof house clinging precariously to the hillside above the city, six-year-old Mustafa lies in bed, his blue eyes reddened by tears. Beside him sits his grandmother, her gray, braided hair hidden by a white scarf pulled low over her forehead and knotted tightly just under her lower lip. Her voluminous cotton-print pantaloons billow out around her in splash of bright color, entirely obscuring the low stool on which she is perched.
The cramped room is festively decorated with balloons and streamers of red, white, blue, and green crepe paper. Woven Oriental rugs called cilimi cover the rough wooden planks of the floor, and a garish machine-made tapestry depicting the minaret-studded skyline of some imaginary Islamic city hangs above the bed. Earlier, Mustafa, dressed elegantly in a special white suit and cap, had - with much fanfare - been paraded proudly about the neighborhood. And then, upon his return home and in the presence of male family members who - with considerable good humor - energetically encouraged the youngster to bear his pain heroically, Mustafa was circumcised by a ritual specialist.
Through this age-old custom (common to Muslims and Jews alike), the boy's masculinity was symbolically and publicly reaffirmed. Now, bandaged and relieved that his ordeal is finally over, Mustafa listens to the lively sounds of the celebration being held in his honor outside. Below his window, on a small terrace overlooking the maze of narrow, meandering alley-ways that descend steeply into the hear of the city, family, relatives, friends, and neighbors are gathered around a long makeshift table. A seemingly endless variety of Middle Eastern sweets and a host of other delicacies - round flat pies of sheep cheese baked between oiled leaves of phyllo dough) cabbage rolls in a pungent red-pepper sauce (sarma); spit-barbecued lamb laced with garlic; spiced ground meat baked between layers of eggplant, onion, and potato (musaka); roasted peppers marinated in garlic and oil; and several kinds of baklava - are heaped on the table,
Contrary to the custom of more conservative Muslim families, plum brandy and wine are offered the guests in great quantities, in addition to the traditional little cups of thick Turkish coffee. Also in contrast to prevailing custom in many parts of the Islamic world, women have joined the men rather than holding their own separate celebration out of public view.
In the distance, the setting sun silhouettes the spires of pencil-sharp minarets in the city skyline against the amber haze of the late-summer sky. The shrill cry of the muezzin announces aksam, the fourth of five obligatory daily Islamic prayers, and the faithful, for the most part older men, gather languidly in the walled courtyard of the Gazi Husrev Bey Mosque (the city's largest mosque, it was built in 1530 by the nephew of Turkish Sultan Bayazit II). The more traditional elders wear maroon fezzes or small white knit skullcaps, while younger men sport dark berets pulled down squarely on their heads to eyebrow level.
Placing their shoes and sandals on wooden racks under the arched portico at the entrance to the mosque, the worshipers performs their ritual ablutions, washing their faces, hands, and feet at the courtyard fonts before entering the cool, high-domed interior to prostrate themselves toward Mecca on the multihued Persian carpets that adorn the floor from wall to wall. On this sultry afternoon, the daily
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