11. The Guide’s Whistle

If I could sing on my own, what tune would I sing? It’s a question I can ask myself now that I sit here, my role transformed.

Once, I would come into being when the breath of life was blown through me. Hanging by a chain, clutched in my owner’s fingers or clipped between his teeth, hot air would course through me and I would catch a glimpse of the stars on the shoulder of his policeman’s uniform and of the marble tops of the columns in the distance. When my tune sounded, a mass of people would move in the right direction around the Ka’aba, seeking the rhythm of perpetual motion. Like a trumpet from the skies or Israfil, my first blow called all to attention, my second brought them to a standstill.

Whistle-blowers can control and hail to action the mass movement of a people, and can provoke a different pace at will, encouraging movement and drawing attention to a collective state of wonder. I am small and simple in structure, and my strength relies on one man’s gesture: the act of breathing a little harder.