Tuesday, October 16, 2007

Fast Times

Never before have I been in a predominately Muslim country during Ramazan (aka Ramadan). The difference is palpable, yet the various rituals specific to the month of Ramazan have only affected me peripherally: At rush hour, traffic goes from mass chaos to total insanity, making it difficult to catch a bus and nearly impossible to find one that isn’t stuffed to capacity. I am able to buy fresh bread when I come home at 6:00 p.m. from my superintendent, who goes around to all the apartments on my block with a basket of the special round loaves that are used to break the fast each night. There is a drummer who walks through the neighborhood at 3:30 a.m to wake up those who must prepare food before the first call of prayer. (I don’t know why I never got around to buying earplugs the entire month.) Unfortunately, he also wakes up an unsuspecting foreigner who need to get up for work a mere three hours later. I thought perhaps the rat-ta-tat-tat was merely a figment of my imagination until I saw the elusive drummer boy on the corner, his drum strapped to his chest. Perhaps by next year these seasonal changes will feel as meaningful as Christmas carols blasting through the mall, but somehow they felt laden with meaning and significance that I was not privy to, nor did I completely understand.

As I listened to the drums and the call to prayer throughout the month, I thought about the way the president has to swear on the bible, In God we Trust on the dollar bill, and of course, the Commander in Chief’s references to the almighty that are invoked on a consistent basis.

I know a few people who fasted out of religious reasons at work without any apparent distraction. I also know a handful of people who fasted, at least part of the time, to ‘try it out.’ It seems to me quite disingenuous to use fasting as a psychological exercises or even to do it “just because” and compare it to those who are doing it for the sake of a higher authority. Still, I do not know if there is more power in actions, or the meaning behind them.

On my way home from work, I passed by “my” little cafe. In my mind, it has sort of replaced the comfort of deli food or eating pancakes at a greasy spoon at three a.m. The brother and sister who own the joint were standing outside waiting for the day to end so their meal could begin. They invited me to join them for iftar (the breaking of the fast), and as I looked inside the restaurant and saw the table set with fresh dolmes, borek, and the yogurt that is served with everything here, I found it hard to say no (plus it is considered rude to refuse an invitation). We sat at the table with the food beckoning us to start until Imam’s voice could be heard blaring from mosques in four directions. It was much nicer than the alternative (eating my dinner with the cast of Heroes or CNN keeping me company).

Perhaps this is the real reason the fast must be broken according to the voice of the Imam. People will need to eat at the exact time everyday, and if we are all hungry, and all at home, it will inevitably be done together.

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Sisyphus

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