I am up at 4 am, jet lagged after a twenty hour flight to Pakistan. I pull myself out of bed, wobble down to my sister's kitchen, and brew myself a cup of chai. In the stillness of the night, I curl up with my tea and tasbeeh, reciting the names of Allah. The house is quiet, the night quieter. And then I hear it. The lone man's voice, beaming off the minaret somewhere in the vicinity,