Collecting bottles, tossing leftovers, taking out the garbage
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H. de C. is an award winning nonfiction writer, essayist, literary journalist, and contributor to many notable periodicals.
It’s still dark when the muezzin calls for Fajr, the first prayer of the day. I’ve already been awake for a couple of hours: lying in bed, not thinking, not trying not to think, just taking in the predawn sounds of this utterly foreign city, Doha, the capital of Qatar. Our house faces Al Shamal Road, a long highway that snakes across the country from the northern coastline to the southern border with Saudi Arabia.