The Rhythm in the Darkness

While I worked for the Iraqi refugee education centre in Amman, one thing that really struck me was the liveliness of the people there. Everyone was busting with energy and willing to share it with others through dance, drumming, games or any other activity that could be done in a group. There is one particular occasion that I still think about, more than two years after returning to London...

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It was another hot and sunny day. We had just finished a music workshop with the teachers that I was training that week. It was the time of Ramadan and everyone was feeling the effect of it. The heat combined with no water and food during the day was making us feel lethargic. We were slumbering down the stairs when we heard it - the music, laughter and clapping. As we descended to the ground floor, it was louder and louder. 

‘Sounds like someone is having a part’, one of the teachers remarked. We looked at one another and smiled. It was such a relieving feeling to hear these kids who had gone through some much in their young lives to be so happy. 

The door to the classroom at the front of the building was slightly ajar. We peaked into it and we greeted by an intensified sound of cheers and singing. Someone tapped me on my shoulder. It was the centre manager.

‘It is the birthday of one of the boys’, he explained with laugher in his eyes. ‘The others organized a surprise party to him. He has never before properly celebrated his birthday, but now that he is an orphan, we thought that it would be a great chance for him to do that.’

Me and the group of teachers standing behind me were mesmerized by the sight. A group of boys were standing on a table. They were belly dancing to the music played by their peers on the drums. The rest of the children were dancing on the floor next to the table and clapping to cheer the boys on. In the corner of the room, the teachers of the centre were cutting a cake. This would be the first birthday cake the boy had seen in his life. 

The laugher, singing and clapping of the children was getting louder and louder by the minute. I can honestly say that I hadn’t seen children as cheerful as that in a long time. The teachers and I sat down and were merged in watching the children. 

Then, it was all dark. The electricity had gone off. Power cuts were common in Jordan in the summer. Too many people using air conditioning at the same time. 

There was a silence for a moment. The children stopped playing their instruments, stopped dancing and clapping. Then, as if they all had the same internal clock, they all started their music again, exactly at the same time. There was laugher again and the eternal beating of the drum, in the darkness. 

After an hour or so, when the light was one again, the teachers put the birthday cake into plastic bags and gave a piece to each child.

‘When you have iftar once the sun goes down, eat your cake’, the teachers would say to each child. Even on your birthday, you would need to follow the fasting since it was Ramadan.