because he sang
On the last day of the year, I was staring at the lake, savouring the best moments of 2017 and wondering what to do in 2018 to retain my inner peace and avoid any more depression. Gazing across Lough Allen, five kilometres wide, I could see the lights of Ballinagleara, and I was reminded of an afternoon I spent over there in a pub, a few months earlier.
It was a small bar and grocery shop, selling bread and milk from one counter, and pints of Guinness and beer from another counter, with the two spaces joined by a glowing stove.
The autumn sun was slanting in the windows and a session was in full swing. Fiddles lying in the corners, with guitar cases leaning like decommissioned Kalashnikovs against the wall and accordions on the counter.
I had come to hear a singer, Muhammad Al-Hussaini. When I walked in he was leaning against the grocery counter, his eyes closed, his lips reciting verses of a song he’d soon be singing.
Muhammad is not just a British Muslim. He is also an Imam of the Muslim faith. But those are only labels. When he sang he was transformed. He became an angel. From the moment he opened his mouth I knew the afternoon was going to be wonderful.