The daily greeting, which are so important to socialization in Morocco, have changed a bit during Ramadan. This makes sense in this holy month, given that the Koran contains numerous passages referring to the suitable greeting to and from good Muslims. For example, while in general it is sufficient to utter the truncated "Slm" or "sbah" (translates to "mornin'"), many people are now inclined to carefully administer the entire "salaam u walaikum", and will expect the proper "walaikum asalaam" in return. This is usually followed with the typical obligatory quarries about family and health; but now, included in the questionnaire, is the deceptively intrusive question, "Is tazzumt" (Are you fasting)? If you are fasting, the result is a second, much more fervent, handshake. It has been explained to me that if two people are fasting, then their handshake will come directly from their hearts, where as it is otherwise derived from their pinky fingers. This is then followed up with the inquiry "iHla Ramadan nghd oho?" (Is Ramadan good or not), to which the proper response is, "iHla, welakin ishqqa" (It is good, but its difficult). Some will play cavalier and tell you "Oho, ishqqa walo" (No, there's nothing hard about it), but there is a sense of community that comes from collectively sharing the weakness and discomfort of fasting on long summer days, and most people are more than willing to admit these discomforts. Do not however, mistake these descriptions of Ramadan as complaining. People here would not complain about such a holy experience, and in fact, will usual punctuate any descriptions of difficulty with the appreciative, "humduilla" (thanks be to god)! For example, "Ramadan is hard. It's very hot and I'm so thirst. The days are very long in the summer...Thanks be to god! Ramadan is good". Many will also expound on the healthful virtues of fasting. The more believable of these arguments include; that it is good for your body to have a break from constantly digesting, and that people actually gain weight during Ramadan (which is very possible despite the fact that they are eating less, because they have slowed their metabolism to a screeching halt, but still bombard their stomachs with massive daily doses of food each night before bed). I fasted completely for four days. The headaches, constipation, and extreme exhaustion I experienced didn't feel like my body getting healthier. It did get easier as the days stretched on, but I didn't start noticing health benefits until I reintroduced fluids into my diet. After that, I continued to fast from food for two more weeks, and with a little water in my system, this practice actually felt pretty good. I felt light and energized, and I had a surprising sense of clarity. Still, I was not able to exercise beyond getting to and from town, and after two weeks I began to notice a significant deterioration of muscle strength. Aware of my muscle atrophy, and facing five days alone in my house while Amber went away for a training, I decided the time had come to reunite with my old friend gastronomy.
The problem with eating during Ramadan is that you begin to feel like a social outcast; like a villain, secretive and mischievous. Even if you admit to people that you are not fasting, it is highly impolite to eat or drink under the public eye. As a result, I found myself reclusive. More than that though, when I did leave the house, I felt tinges of guilt. Occasionally I would visit friends for the delicious breaking of the fast in the evening, with warm breads and cakes, tea and coffee, huge bowls of fresh figs and peaches, mnsinmin (flaky flat bread), sfenj (sugarless fried donuts), bghrirt (half way between a crumpet and a crepe), shbekia (glistening honey and saffron infused mini-funnel cakes), slilu (a flavorful mixture of spices, flour, oil, and every available seed and nut, all pulverized and mixed into a powder and eaten with a spoon), and much more; but I felt like an imposture sharing their LiFdoer (breakfast). As if I was dulling the significance of the important meal for the fasters among me. Soon I began to look forward to that dark moonless night (Islamic time is lunar so that Ramadan is one full cycle of the moon, from one moonless night to the next). Last night, that night arrived. Today is "l-Eid l-fdr", a holiday marking the end of Ramadan. In practice, it resembles Christmas morning. Families all over the Muslim world will gather together today and enjoy extravagant meals. Their houses will have been cleaned up and perhaps decorated for the occasion. Everybody will wear elegant new clothes, and children will be given small sums of money. While they celebrate their successful completion of Ramadan, I am reflecting on the experiences of the last month with affection. I, of course, will miss the amazing evening meals and the spruced up calls to prayer; but most of all, I will miss the solidarity that came with the holy month. Morocco is already a highly communal society (especially compared to the individuality of American society), but this is never more true than in the month of Ramadan. As everybody fasts, they all suddenly have something in common which is so basic and so important that they seem to understand and interact with each other on a more fundamental level. Peoples differences wane when matched against the unmistakable similarities they all share. A bit like living in an ant farm, but heartwarming none-the-less. Goodbye Ramadan. A fond farewell until next year. You will be missed.
On the one hand…
12 years ago
