But there was a quiet worry in the air, carried on the humid wind like the scent of bunga tanjong . The old khatib , Tuan Guru Haji Awang, had fallen ill. His voice—a gravelly river that had recited the khutbah for forty years—was now a whisper lost to a fever.

" Tuan Guru Haji Awang selalu cakap: 'Jangan kau tengok besar atau kecilnya amal. Tapi tengok pada hati. Di Patani ni, hati kita pernah dibakar, pernah direndam air banjir. Tapi masih hidup. Sebab Allah jaga. '"

(We live here in Patani. This land is not a foreign land. This is a land of struggle. Not a struggle with swords alone, but a struggle with patience. Each drop of rubber you tap, Pak Mat, is a prayer. Each fish you net, Wak Ngah, is a reward. We do not live to fight men. We live to fight our own desires.)