Ascending in kafi, Aziza’s voice was raw sugar and pomegranate syrup poured through a smoky fire. It caught in your throat when you heard it. It didn’t lift till later. First came this— Her father was a Sufi Pir. Like a plumber, he kept life flowing in the right direction. He counseled the troubled and wrote out blessings, and was conveniently located. Wonderfully soothing—a handsome old man who twinkled at will.
When Aziza's Voice Lifted
When Aziza's Voice Lifted
When Aziza's Voice Lifted
Ascending in kafi, Aziza’s voice was raw sugar and pomegranate syrup poured through a smoky fire. It caught in your throat when you heard it. It didn’t lift till later. First came this— Her father was a Sufi Pir. Like a plumber, he kept life flowing in the right direction. He counseled the troubled and wrote out blessings, and was conveniently located. Wonderfully soothing—a handsome old man who twinkled at will.