Ramadan '16 - Preping for the Hunger Games

It’s 7:41pm and Magrib (sunset) is still a good hour plus away.  A storm, like an unexpected and unwanted guest, has been threatening to descend for quite a while now but has yet to arrive.  I believe like myself people have been watching the skies trying to gauge whether to venture outside and like myself they are deciding to play it safe and stay home. 

And it would have stayed that way had today not been a bit significant.

What’s going on today, you may be wondering?

Well…it’s the eve before Ramadan.  You know, the holy Month of fasting for Muslims around the world.  One of the 5 pillars that define the very foundation of Islam.  Yup, that.  By now I’m sure that whether it’s been through social media, random articles, word of mouth or even the news, you know what Ramadan is all about…somewhat.  And if you don’t, I’m always here to help.  How?  Why via blogging, of course.  I will be a fountain of information throughout this coming month and will share the trials and tribulations, like I have done in the past.  Hopefully I can put a humorous twist on it, making the experience human and relatable on the way to informative.

This here's the Black Chana

Now my mother saved me the pain of having to do too much prep by sending me a few staples that we break our fasts with, namely dates (not the type you have to get dressed for) and black boot (not footwear but rather a small bean of sorts that you have to cook forever) also known as chana.  Of course these two things are more or less staples in Bangladeshi households during the fast breaking.

All around the world though, from various cultures, other Muslim’s have their own staples but I’ll blog more about that later.  For now this is about me and today so back to my story...

Regardless of Ammi’s generosity, I had to make my way to the grocery store for my own goodies.  Off I went to one of the larger halal stores in Falls Church, VA hoping to score some chicken keema (ground chicken).  Not that I couldn’t get the same thing in like 100 stores between my home and that spot but I wanted the drive as well while I had the energy to drive and sing.  It wasn’t till I walked into the otherwise quiet grocery store that Ramadan came and smacked me upside the head.  Oh like so many others I knew it was on its way, mentally if not physically preparing myself, but the fact that it’s here, that it’s knocking and we have to open the door wide and welcome it, didn’t quite infiltrate my active consciousness until the doors of the market swooshed open and I was immediately greeted by a kindly old man holding a big box of dates (again not the type that you gotta groom for) offering me one with a toothless smile. 

Now I’m not a “sample” kind of girl.  When others go to BJ’s or the food court of malls and they are offered morsels to try, I’m the person who waves off the hawker and keeps it moving.  Maybe to that extent alone I’m a bit of a germaphobe?  (Incidentally there’s a red squiggly line under the word ‘germaphobe’ so I’m either making up this word or my dictionary is stupid, either way it stays). But this old dude was such a cutie that I wanted to pinch his cheeks, an action I’m certain he would not have appreciated. 

Instead, shuffling my phone and purse around in my hands I took one and smiled at him, wished him a Ramadan Kareem, stuffed the tasty date into my mouth and moved along.  Will admit though that the date was indeed good but I had nowhere to throw the pit so kept it in my mouth like a moron as I shopped.  Yea, so that man?  He somehow brought Ramadan front and center to me, along with the scads of humanity that were also purchasing foods to prepare for the holy month.  The air itself was actually charged with a repressed excitement as the meat counter was inundated with customers 3 or 4 deep vying for service and well stocked shelves were being wiped clean only to be restocked.  What did this trip to the store yield for me?  2 tubs of yogurt, 2 mango juices, 2 cans of mango pulp and 1 baklava box.

Right.  I went to get chicken keema, remember?  The damn shelves of the meat case was darn near empty and when I asked the butcher if he had more, he shrugged and said in a very thick Middle Eastern accent that if there were none left, there was none left.  I wanted to ask him where his Ramadan spirit went to but bit back the comment.  He didn’t look happy as it was and I wasn’t about to push him over the edge by adding to it since I could imagine the chaos that day must have brought.  No one wants to risk being beaten by a skinned goat leg anyhow. 

In my endeavor to pick up the rest of whatever I needed, which turns out wasn’t much since I mentally calculated those things I already had at home, I again noted how crowded the aisles were.  This one woman, who had a perma-scowl on her face, practically knocked me over in order to snag yogurt while not bothering to apologize and another group of glaring women cut rudely in front of me in line at the register.  I shook my head and paid for my own purchases, leaving the store with a few heavy bags in hand.  I couldn’t help but wonder that if these folks were so bad tempered now, what would happen when we were in full blown fasting mode.  Yikes.

But here’s the thing, even if I didn’t get the things I was looking for, and I nearly was assaulted twice, I felt Ramadan finally for the first time.  The energy, even the excitement, remembering that millions of folks just like me were all preparing to get to the business of doing the exact same thing…namely going without something that most people just took for granted, eating.  Does that sound weird?  I know the sentence structure could be improved upon.  Dunno but to me, there truly is a solidarity in numbers.

Let me just say this now, and I promise I will repeat this on many, many occasions to come:  I’m not such a great Muslim. 

Yup, there I said it.  No shame in that admission I don’t think.  I don’t pray 5 times a day, shamefully hardly at all.  I don’t thank Allah for his blessings daily as I should nor turn to Allah as I should.  There are a lot of other things that I’m not mentioning here that I do that I shouldn’t but I have no interest in scandalizing everyone who is reading this, nor do I feel the need to reveal that much about myself.  Hey, we all have skeletons, right?  Anyhoo…I really am not a good Muslim.  I strive to be but I fail, all the damn time (maybe using the word “damn” proves precisely how much a lousy Muslim I am?). 

And I watch others, online or in person, who seem to embody the true meaning of being a believer far better than I and I feel nothing but admiration.  When I read that people are excited about Ramadan, looking forward to it, downright giddy about it, I’m left feeling even worse.  Here’s what I’m pretty much thinking, “what the heck is going on?  Folks are looking forward to 17+ hours of starvation?  No water, no coffee, no nothing but a debilitating headache? What am I missing here?  What in the world is wrong with me??  WHY CAN’T I BE BETTER AT THIS???”  (The voices are pretty loud in my head too and real accusatory.) 

That’s a great deal of disgust for myself, not others.  Sure I’m not a good Muslim, but this bad?  Really?  My ability to get jazzed was broken, clearly.

But what I couldn’t recall, because often these thoughts are pre-Ramadan, was that once I’ve surrendered myself to the holy month, once it has arrived, I find my mind transforming slowly.  Yup, it’s a fact.  Call me a Ramadan-Muslim, which incidentally I didn’t know was a thing until like two days ago, if you wish.  I don’t care about anyone’s opinion on this one.  (What’s a Ramadan-Muslim, you may be wondering?  Apparently it’s a person who otherwise doesn’t follow many of the tenants of Islam throughout the year but during Ramadan it’s on like Donkey Kong.  Many followers who are true devotees scoff at these interlopers, these fakes, but to me I think to myself, well at least they try and who are we to judge anyhow?  It’s between them and Allah anyhow so Imma keep my opinion, to myself.)

I know you’re just DYING to know what I’m like during the oncoming month, right?  RIGHT??  Well allow me to enlighten you…As I begin the submission process, allowing my body and mind to adjust, I will become quieter, more introverted, my thoughts more reflective.  I will read and immerse myself into the study of my religion to gain knowledge and clarity, I will try to speak softly (which anyone knows is not an easy thing for me), be gentle and find patience.  I will spend a lot of time prostrating in front of Allah asking for forgiveness as well as seeking the peace that eludes me nonstop.  I will educate myself so that I glean more awareness than I did the year before regarding Islam and pray that it stays with me well past Ramadan. 

Here are some other more realistic, really, really human things I will do or become:  I will drag Muslim bootay.  And I mean, lethargic city.  Nothing, and I mean nothing, will be done with any sense of urgency or energy.  In fact, I will want to lay down on the floor of wherever I am, work, grocery store, 7-11….you name it and I will want to lay down right there.  The struggle is to stay upright.  I will crave coffee like a mad woman.  The very smell of it will cause my eyes to glaze over with a maniacal gleam.  This yearning never goes away, I won’t lie, even if it’s day 28.  I will pray for my period (yes, I know you’re cringing but I think my Muslima sistah’s knows what I mean) so that I can indulge in daylight eating which almost feels like a naughty, naughty thing to do.  And I will hide it from everyone that I am eating even if I can, even when there’s a legit reason.

I will go to the grocery store and buy the most ridiculous food products that would otherwise never be consumed if I were not fasting and I troll the internet for new recipes, gazing at pictures of dishes as if it were porn, and to an extent it is I suppose.  I will endlessly fantasize about gracing various restaurants that boast a plethora of different cuisines even if in reality my exhausted butt wouldn’t make it to even one.   And yes, I will miss a few prayers here and there as I try to sleep long hours away in hopes that the breaking time arrives faster (it never ever does).  I curse the fact that I’m an adult and often times it falls to me to make the fast breaking food unlike when I was a child when Mom took care of it.  Oh childhood how I miss thee sometimes.

Reading becomes a headache, writing becomes damn near impossible.  Splashing water on my mug is the only way to rouse myself to pray, which is harder this month than any other although it’s far more rewarding.  You end up hate on anyone who can eat and you seriously consider snatching ice cream from the hands of babes only to run away to eat it in private, closely resembling Gollum and that damn ring.  Wait, I mean me…I want to do that.

I’ll watch TV with a sense of incredible guilt that it’s not something ‘Islamic’ but yet not stop myself because it’s several moments of mindless nothingness which exerts zero verve.  Oh, and throughout the day?  I will dream of the meal that will put me out of my misery.  My temper will always be on tight reign as I pray over and over again to Allah to bestow on me patience so that I don’t snap someone’s head off and when someone who is a non-Muslim tries to ‘sympathize’ with me that they know what fasting is all about because they forewent eating meat for a Friday…well I want to lose it on them.  This is ME, not anyone else, Folks.  I’m just telling you how I feel.  Remember, I’m not that great a Muslim.

I will take that first sip of ice cold water and breathe a sigh of relief as I count down the days that I have left.  The night prayer will be the one I most fear for it goes on FOREVER and ever, and ever.  I will obsess over what to eat at night often settling on a piece of fruit and a glass of water and then…it all starts again.

Yes, and even as I do all this stuff which to me is not so pretty reality, I will remember the meaning behind why I’m doing it which is what will propel me into the next day and the next and then another…

Why am I even telling y’all this?  I guess it’s because knowing that I sorta suck at doing my religion, I’m giving a prospect of reality…from my POV.  Maybe there are plenty of believers who feel the same, find themselves struggling with the same issues, secretly nodding their head and grimacing.  I don’t know.  If you’re out there, just let me say, you aren’t alone.

I’m going to be hopefully posting more blogs during this month.  Now don’t hold me to this promise because last year I think I lasted a whooping week before giving into total lethargy.  Hey, at least I’m being honest. 

OOOOOOOOhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, one last thing:  For those who are not Muslim’s, and there are a LOT of you out there…it’s okay to say “Happy Ramadan” to your friends.  I can assure you, those who are observing the fast will appreciate the kind gesture.  It’s on par with how you feel when a non-believer of your faith wishes you a “Merry Christmas” or a “Happy Diwali” or “Happy Passover” or whatever holiday you hold dear…got my drift?   

Okay, peace and Ramadan Kareem to one and all. 

Let the Hunger Games begin and may the odds forever be in your favor!!

Pretty Much..