Youssoupha and I went to the mosque in Toubacouta yesterday. I wanted to experience the Muslim religion while surrounded by believers. The prayers were in one of the native languages – perhaps Wolof.

I arrived before Youssoupha and sat under a tree facing the cement walls of the mosque. The first photo shows the tower, where the imam calls the faithful to worship. One of the boys in the shade is carrying a prayer mat on his head. The blue door is to the mosque, inside of which men and boys sit. Women sit in the building with the windows.

It was just about time for prayers to start and I hadn’t seen Youssoupha so I left my tree and walked through the gate. My long white robe was topped off with grey hair and many eyes were on me.

In the second photo you see a group of worshippers who chose to be together outside of the walls. On the right is a large tree, a mango I think. As I entered the grounds, at least fifty men and boys had spread their prayer mats under the tree in several long left-to-right lines. I joined the end of the last line.

The man to my left gestured for me to spread my orange yoga mat flush with his mat. Soon I was joined on the right by a young fellow who snuggled his mat against mine. There were no smiles but there were nods. The presence of the white guy was being accepted.

The imam started chanting over the loudspeaker. It was a staccato voice … short bursts of words. Often a rising in volume. Sometimes it felt like more yelling than singing. The men’s heads were bowed. There were call-and-response sections, when the people would reply in what seemed to be a low collective groan but eventually I could hear unknown words in there.

The parishioners before me sat in their coloured robes (no shorts allowed) with their legs splayed in different directions. Everyone needed to take off their sandals before praying and I got to see the sight of many bare, upside down feet. Never before have I seen such a display of one big toe and four little ones. It was a broad span of digital art.

Suddenly everyone was standing so I stood too. There were motions of the arms that I didn’t try to repeat. Then we were down on all fours. The Muslim worshippers often had their foreheads to their mats. I didn’t do that. I followed just the basics.

There was a huge reverence in the space. Often the man to my left had his hands straight in front, and he seemed to be speaking to them.

Basically I didn’t know what I was doing. I knew no words. I was the subject of some folks’ attention. And I felt at home. We were together in the contemplation of something bigger than the daily round.

It is good