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i woke to the sound of a distant blast from a trumpet made from the horn of the sacred kudu-deer. it was early in the morning, and the trumpet blast came from the tower of the local shrine, calling worshipers to prayer. it was the religion of most native people in this little desert/grassland country. they pray seven times a day, facing east, in the direction of the Shrine of the Rising Sun. i had moved here a month before with my ambassador parents. it was hot and dry in this capital city, and there were a heck of a lot of people and interesting stuff.
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