The echoed singing through the minaret softly enters your ears, and you rub your eyes to adjust to the faint light.  You lay in bed in the dark, the call to prayer continues as an alarm clock for the village.  With out the capability of a snooze button, you comply, getting up, reaching for your headscarf, your feet finding warmth from your cold floor onto your prayer rug, facing Mecca as you begin Fajr, your morning prayers. As the sun begins to pierce through the windows, the cool mountain air in your room is warmed by the early morning light.  You dip your flatbread in Argan oil at breakfast, quickly…