The grounds on which the Mosque stands are quite extensive and are composed of a number of individual grassed and low walled areas. Central to this area is a minaret that stands atop a mass tomb, a memorial to the casualties of one of the many wars that Herat has experienced.
But what stood out to me was not the cannon that stood beside the memorial, or the massive edifice of the mosque in the foreground, but the many people that were gathered on the grassed areas. Some were asleep, a few groups sat in circles studying, families were having a picnic, children ran and played, men sat quietly, their mouths silently reciting the 99 attributes of God with the assistance of their prayer beads (called subha - meaning "to exhalt"). This was a community area, a safe place, and a place where anyone was welcome.
People come and go all day, the doors to the mosque remain open until the early hours of the morning. Students sit in the numerous alcoves within the quietness of the mosque courtyard, their text books spread before them. Father's were explaining the architecture, and reading the words of the Qur'an that are written in tiles on all the surfaces of the buildings.
What impressed me was that in the middle of this chaotic, busy, noisy town is a refreshing oasis - a place of prayer, a place of learning and sharing, a place of resting, acceptance and safety, a place for anyone, at any time.
We all need these kind of places and these moments of grace: for a few minutes today I was glad to be able to escape the chaos of Afghanistan and sit in silence and solitude, bathed in a strange blue light reflecting off the tiled walls - and imagine God.
