I had to confess to a friend, “I’ve never felt dirty about eating.” She was handing me bite-size pieces of Zatar and cheese in the car as we zipped through traffic, surreptitiously and below the window-line, then I cupped each piece to my mouth pretending to yawn. I don’t know if was the illicit nature of the snack or the fact I hadn’t had anything to eat in hours, but it was the best tasting food I think I’ve ever eaten in my life. I shushed her when she tried to comment so I could savor the flavor in silence. It was that good.
Since Eid al Fitr is the celebration of the end of Ramadan, and I had a week off in honor of it, I thought I’d dwell a little bit on the subject. Ramadan is the month of fasting for Muslims and one of the five pillars of Islam along with praying five times a day, public confession of faith, giving to the poor, and a pilgrimage to Mecca. Obviously, if it’s a cornerstone of the religion, it’s a big deal.
As the United Arab Emirates is an Islamic country, there is no eating, drinking, chewing gum, or smoking in public during the hours of fasting (sunup to sundown) for anyone, whether or not one is Muslim. Restaurants are all closed. I heard that there are upscale restaurants that put up blinds so people won’t be able to look in and see the patrons eat, but I never saw them.
I mentioned to a few friends back in the States, Brianna and Delite, how difficult I was finding it not to drink or eat in public. “Well,” said one, “what if you just put juice in an opaque container. No one will know.” But it’s not just juice or alcohol that are forbidden. It’s any liquid including water. And I just want to remind the reader: this is the desert.
I never realized how much I drink in public until I was forced not to. I have my cup of coffee on my way to work in the morning. I sip a bottle of water while I’m teaching all day. I munch on trail mix between classes or at my desk if I miss lunch. After the first week, I realized I wasn’t really eating or drinking during the day either. Since I tend to multi-task (probably too much) and always am doing something while I eat, I kept up the doing part of the equation and just cut out the eating. I couldn’t understand why I was so moody and irritable. Oh, yeah, because I was hungry and thirsty! Now compound that by every other person in the country. Fuses tend to be very short during Ramadan.
Why would a religion impose this type of torture on its people? The idea behind Ramadan is to remind the faithful of the poor: by being hungry for the bulk of every day, one is better able to understand the plight of the poor and be sympathetic. This is also why this is the traditional time to give a large portion (fourteen percent) of one’s income to charity.
I understand the philosophy behind it, and I respect the fact that it is one of the cornerstones of one of the world’s largest religions, but the problem I see with it is that it makes food feel wrong. The problem with making something feel wrong is the tantalizing allure of something illicit. As with so many things (drugs, alcohol, and sex just to name a few) one knows that if something is forbidden, people will want to try it all the more. I was reminded of this as I snuck bites of food in the car with greedy pleasure, or took the bottle out of my bottom desk drawer – my bottle of water, of course.
Since Eid al Fitr is the celebration of the end of Ramadan, and I had a week off in honor of it, I thought I’d dwell a little bit on the subject. Ramadan is the month of fasting for Muslims and one of the five pillars of Islam along with praying five times a day, public confession of faith, giving to the poor, and a pilgrimage to Mecca. Obviously, if it’s a cornerstone of the religion, it’s a big deal.
As the United Arab Emirates is an Islamic country, there is no eating, drinking, chewing gum, or smoking in public during the hours of fasting (sunup to sundown) for anyone, whether or not one is Muslim. Restaurants are all closed. I heard that there are upscale restaurants that put up blinds so people won’t be able to look in and see the patrons eat, but I never saw them.
I mentioned to a few friends back in the States, Brianna and Delite, how difficult I was finding it not to drink or eat in public. “Well,” said one, “what if you just put juice in an opaque container. No one will know.” But it’s not just juice or alcohol that are forbidden. It’s any liquid including water. And I just want to remind the reader: this is the desert.
I never realized how much I drink in public until I was forced not to. I have my cup of coffee on my way to work in the morning. I sip a bottle of water while I’m teaching all day. I munch on trail mix between classes or at my desk if I miss lunch. After the first week, I realized I wasn’t really eating or drinking during the day either. Since I tend to multi-task (probably too much) and always am doing something while I eat, I kept up the doing part of the equation and just cut out the eating. I couldn’t understand why I was so moody and irritable. Oh, yeah, because I was hungry and thirsty! Now compound that by every other person in the country. Fuses tend to be very short during Ramadan.
Why would a religion impose this type of torture on its people? The idea behind Ramadan is to remind the faithful of the poor: by being hungry for the bulk of every day, one is better able to understand the plight of the poor and be sympathetic. This is also why this is the traditional time to give a large portion (fourteen percent) of one’s income to charity.
I understand the philosophy behind it, and I respect the fact that it is one of the cornerstones of one of the world’s largest religions, but the problem I see with it is that it makes food feel wrong. The problem with making something feel wrong is the tantalizing allure of something illicit. As with so many things (drugs, alcohol, and sex just to name a few) one knows that if something is forbidden, people will want to try it all the more. I was reminded of this as I snuck bites of food in the car with greedy pleasure, or took the bottle out of my bottom desk drawer – my bottle of water, of course.
2 comments:
Fascinating account of what I only know about from books. to live it is to really understand it. Thank you for sharing with me - I am thoroughly enjoying your blog.
lisa Keegan
Two years ago I decided to fast during Ramadan alongside my dear friend and next-door-neighbor Khadija. I am of course a christian and did not observe the reason of Ramadan but rather decided to use it as a time to reflect on the traditions of people like Khadija. It was awful to be sure :) I remember ravenously shoving food and drink into my mouth once sundown arrived each night and then feeling sick after the gluttony. There were a few nights when I was cooking dinner and I licked the spoon that I was cooking with because the smells of dinner were too much for my empty stomach :) I was SO ashamed!
For Khadija, my willingness to understand her religion brought us closer as she had never had a christian do anything nice for her or with her (she and her family moved to PA from East Africa the year before). In my opinion it was an awesome opportunity for me, a westerner, a Mennonite, a christian, to show her that I loved her even though I didn't share her tradition or her muslim values. Anyway, just my little story to add to your blog. Love to you my dear and as always, I thoroughly enjoy your stories!
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