(I’m just being dramatic; Ramadan only fits one of three categories in the title)
This year, I’m hitting the ground running. This year, I’m putting out fires before they start burning. Ramadan is around the corner — so let’s put up those dukes and beat down those painfully common questions, statements and misconceptions.
“Not even water?!”
Ahh, my favourite. Nothing strips years from my life more than this ancient non-Muslim proverb. I hear it every Ramadan. I hear it every day, every Ramadan. Not even water? No, guys — not even water. There’s something really satisfying about the shock and horror on every non-Muslim’s face, as realisation drains the light from their eyes. It’s like I’ve told them we have to sacrifice a virgin every day, for thirty days, leading up to Eid. Not even water …. Not even water … NOT EVEN WATER.
We’re all responsible for our own hydration, okay? Yes, during the hours of the fast, we don’t drink water. Yes, we can drink water and break our fast if we’re inches from a dying, dehydrated collapse. Yes, we do our best to shift the time in which we drink water — plenty before the fast begins, and plenty more after the fast is broken. For the most part, Muslims handle this change with no drama. It’s a change of hours, more than a change of habit. We’re not giving up water — we’re changing when we drink it. Move on, please.
“How do you not eat for 30 days?”
Okay, so. Let me lay out the details for you all — Ramadan lasts a month. One month is thirty or thirty-one days (no-one likes you, February). Within this month, we have thirty fasts. That’s a fast a day. A fast lasts from sunrise to sunset … which means … outside of those timeframes, we can eat and drink as much as we want.
Shocking, right? But unfortunately, Muslims weren’t gifted some kind of super-strength, mega-stamina, or immortality. If the whole of the Muslim population — all 1.8 billion of us — went thirty days without food or water, every single year … well. I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have lasted til 27, lemme tell ya.
I’m not as healthy as I once wasn’t.
“You’re so brave/strong/courageous…”
Uhm … thanks, I guess? Look, I’m sure you all mean well, but … it’s not like I’m dying. I’m not being a hero. I’m not sacrificing myself for others. I’m not curing a disease in a third-world country. I’m not enlisting in the army. I’d love to DO some of these things, by the way — but I don’t see fasting falling under the same kinda umbrella. I’m just … going without a bunch of stuff for a month. No biggie.
Please don’t look at me with that forlorn expression. Please don’t act sympathetic, sigh and pat my shoulder. No, I could name SO many people in this world who are brave, courageous, strong, and worth every good word in the book. But me, with my religious obligations, with my month of purity and self-improvement, amongst 1.8 billion others? Not really one of them.
Now, when I DO become a superhero and save the world, I expect all these compliments and more, by the way. I want my own documentary. I want my own Marvel franchise. I want you all to cry at my bravery, my courage, my strength.
“You must hate it.”
Actually no. No, no, no. I can only speak for myself, of course — but Ramadan is the most liberating, joyful, and worthwhile month of the year. I love it. Maybe I’ll write a separate blog on WHY I love it so much, but to sum up:
It’s purifying. You’re cutting out the things you take for granted. You’re cleansing yourself.
It’s rewarding. I feel enlightened after Ramadan; with better habits and a renewed sense of purpose. Plus, reconnecting with your faith is always incredible.
It’s a great time to socialise. Wouldn’t expect so, right? But actually I meet all of my Muslim friends more often in Ramadan than I do in the remaining eleven months. It’s why we’ve been friends for over ten years.
It’s not a chore; it’s a challenge.
And finally, regarding Eid …
“It’s like your Christmas.”
Okay, whatever helps you get your head around the concept — but Eid is not a “Muslim Christmas”. I get annoyed at the fact that everything is a different version of Christmas, as if Christmas is the default holiday holding the world together. I don’t understand why non-Muslims need to refer to Eid as anything other than an “Islamic celebration” — but you do you, I guess.
If we had a Muslim Christmas, I’d want Santa to wear a Thawb and ride a rickshaw down our chimney, only to join us for Maghrib prayer and Muslim Christmas Nasheeds. We’d then end our day with some dates and fruit, say our prayers, and wish him a safe journey back to Makkah, where he will live with his nine camels for the rest of the year.
Happy Muslim Christmas, everyone. Have a good one, Insha’Allah.
the second tallest building in the world , kids. it’s crazy tall , i’m telling you. and the elevators are the fastest in the world ---- covering 20.5 metres per second. you can feel it , almost ---- the speed in the form of whooshing air surrounding this little box that propels you sky-high. it’s exhilerating.
I went on a smoggy day ---- and I have no regrets ! look , to really capture China you have to embrace its everyday nature. to photograph the city on a clear , sky-blue day is like saying you’ve experienced London when you’ve never really walked in the regular downpour.
and then , when you’re up there , overlooking a beautiful city and all its inhabitants far , far below , you feel like you’re standing over the planet ; a small and silent onlooker.
I’m calling it a trend because I think it takes some time to Get It. The whole concept of Iceland, as a country, baffles me. I mean, honestly. We spent six days there, freezing our butts off in Reykjavik, wondering how a city with (apparently) so little was thriving on so much.
I mean, honestly. We cried that fateful day we managed to locate a Subway – talk about consumerism! But it was something we recognised, and something we could afford. We walked along Reykjavik’s busiest street and it felt like a scene from I Am Legend. You know, us being Will Smith and his Dog, caught in a barren world. We saw movement from the corner of our eyes, and figured – it must be the three other locals we’ve seen several times over the course of the trip. Obviously.
I mean, HONESTLY. I’ve been to China, guys. I’ve lived in Shanghai for two years. I uprooted myself and flew to the East, surviving on limited language skills and the good-will of others. But Iceland? Now that felt like the real culture shock.
But I guess that’s the secret, right? Iceland was ranked as third happiest country in the world. And it’s because Icelanders have found a piece of Earth to call their own.
I envy that. I’m a city girl – i’m used to London and New York, Paris and Shanghai. I’m used to sharing; to living a sardine life, surrounded by millions of other people. It’s great, but it does leave me feeling squished, almost. Like living in a house with ten strangers, or knowing that your connection with Earth doesn’t extend past the man-made objects. The buildings, the roads. The cars, the internet connection.
I’ve grown to appreciate the quantity of life. Iceland showed me the quality.
Imagine sharing your world with no-one but the mountains! Keeping company with sheep! Never getting lost (because there’s only one road) or getting stuck in traffic (because there’s only ten locals). Imagine seeing the Northern Lights instead of city lights, every night before bed! Imagine catching your own food instead of ordering it. Imagine living in a world of lore and mythology, keeping up with tradition instead of reading about it in a museum somewhere.
It all sounds like a life i’d love to have, really. And as the days went by on our holiday, I slowly went from culture shock to culture appreciation. I finally Get It – I finally understand. Icelanders have figured out how to preserve their quality of life, and i’m so grateful they shared a piece of it with me.
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