Abundance Through Restraint

What Ramadan means to this Moslem.

I started fasting at the age of ten. My parents, avid observants of the faith, adopted an incrementalist approach with me: I would fast just for half a day, where I would be allowed to drink water. At the age of eleven, I fasted a little longer without drinking. By the age of twelve, I was ready: I started doing the real thing.

Today, at the age of 27, with all my doubts concerning the implementations of my faith, I still love fasting.

To me, fasting is more than just an act of withholding food, drink and other carnal human needs from dawn to dusk. Fasting, I came to realize, is an exercise in restraint, a test for the capacity of the human soul to resist temptation. It’s an intense religious and spiritual experience, yet it is also a magnificent celebration of the human spirit.

I refuse, in principal, to pray in Ramadan and stop praying after it’s over. I’d rather continue in my non-praying mode until I am really convinced and committed to the idea of praying. I don’t believe those alleged divine incentive systems, where a prayer in Ramadan is said to be worth much more than a prayer in normal days. A sort of “Buy One, Get 10 for free!” scheme.

I also don’t believe that Ramadan is an excuse for partying from the Isha’a till the Imsak. The fact that the “tents” provide traditional narguilehs instead of cigarettes, oriental sweets instead of petits-fours, Jellab instead of whiskey, belly dancers instead of strippers, does not make a party more Ramadanish and misses the whole point of the month.

The fasting experience in itself is worthwhile: The last 30 minutes before you are allowed to eat are the longest, most exciting 30 minutes you can experience. In your most fragile human condition, you start living every second by its own. You experience an abundance of the senses. You start feeling your heartbeats and your breath. Everything smells intense, everything sounds sharp. The food stops being food, it becomes a great object of desire; a feast of gems waiting to be conquered.

I don’t think that Ramadan has “traditional foods”, yet I have a weakness for the sight of tabbouleh, mashawi, mouajjanat, soup, Jellab, Fatté, all on one table. Let me take this opportunity to thank my mom for the wonderful job she does for us every single day, and to wish for those less fortunate a month of abundance and wellbeing.

I have a suggestion for my Christian readers: Fast for one day, and have the iftar at one of your Moslem friends’ place. Trust me, it will be an experience you’ll never forget.

Ramadan Kareem.