Ramadan: My Weer u Koor

fallen bird's nest - beautiful

I have to admit: I’m a terrible Muslim. I only fasted for sixteen days of the month of Ramadan this year. And while the rest of my family was doing their five-times-daily prayers, I snuck into my hut to drink water, something a good Muslim would never do. I’m happy to report that my family is much more devout than I: no food or drink passed their lips from sunup to sundown, even when they spent all day in the fields under the hot Senegalese sun. I realized how serious they were about fasting on day two, when I watched my sister sample some dough she was mixing. I was shocked to see her place a bit on her tongue but I thought, hey it’s just a little taste and I’d probably do the same in her position. To my surprise, she proceeded to assess the quality of the dough, spit it out, then rinse her mouth with water and spit that water out as well. I got the message: Ramadan ain’t no joke.

naps on naps on naps!

A month is a long time for any holiday, especially one like Ramadan, which is filled with highs and lows. Some of the lows are severe: for me it was hardest to witness the physical and mental toll that fasting took on my friends and family. Their lives during this season are extremely physically taxing, which was plain to see on my mom’s face, in my neighbor’s eyes. Other lows weren’t quite so serious. Most days of Ramadan contained a solid block of time in the afternoon during which all (and I mean ALL) adults were asleep, resulting in wild packs of children running around town. This qualified as a low for me because it was as if some apocalyptic event had visited but only killed off people over age twelve. I did not enjoy being left among the survivors.

two chickens ready to be cooked

The highs, as per usual, revolved mostly around food. Not the porridge I ate every morning at 4:45 am; no, not that food. The good food came at sundown, when everyone’s spirits lifted at the thought of nourishment. My family broke fast every evening with a date and a cup of coffee (everyone got coffee, from age two to sixty) and water – with ice, what a luxury! After a break for prayers, a second round of coffee was served along with beignets and bisap flower juice. We ate dinner late, around ten or so, and sometimes had fancy food – like chicken! Yum!

fried food! alhamdoulilah!

Obviously I enjoyed breaking fast, but my favorite part of the day was the two hours prior to sundown, when the preparations began. One of my sisters, who is around sixteen, was on beignet duty every night. She made big beignets for adults and minis for the kids and flipped them using a stick. Any holiday that includes fried food is one after my own heart. Another of my sisters, who is around twelve and experienced her second fast this year, was in charge of coffee prep. She began by building a fire and hand roasting the beans in the flames. Then she ground them using the mortar and pestle, the signature tool of the Senegalese kitchen, while boiling water over the fire. The grounds went into a homemade filter and then all the coffee went back in the pot to stay warm until the time for consumption arrived.

fresh, delicious, hot coffee

dad and kids with the TV

Another high of Ramadan was the introduction of a television into our nightlife! I love our little TV because it is black and white and the one channel it receives is always fuzzy. I also love that we watch it outdoors exclusively. The evening call to prayer was broadcast on TV every night followed by the news, which was delivered in French and therefore unintelligible to everyone at my house. Once every two weeks or so, a weekend night would bring the excitement of an American movie! I always tuned in for those and told my family that no, I couldn’t understand the French dialogue, but yes, I enjoyed just looking at the United States.

winter fashion 2013

The past month also saw the arrival of the rainy season. It didn’t really show up until the beginning of August, but better late than never I suppose. It was truly astonishing to see how quickly the sandy ground surrounding my village turned into fields with either orderly rows of crops or densely tangled grasses and weeds. All of a sudden the trees had leaves, the eggplant plants in my backyard grew little purple veggies, and my family had an insane amount of work on their hands. These days every single one of my family members goes to the fields every single day. One of my moms will come home to tend to household affairs, but everyone else just works and works and works. Thankfully the rain also knocked the temperature down a few degrees. The cool air is a delicious treat, especially because I get to see my family’s winter wardrobes!

clouds at sunset

All in all, the past month has provided much insight into the nature of Islam in Senegal. Ramadan is in the spirit of one of my favorite results of religious action: humility. There is something incredibly powerful and awe-inspiring about the nature of sacrifice. To repeat that sacrifice over and over every day for thirty days, to commit so wholeheartedly to it, is inspirational. And it encourages a sense of gratitude and humility that is nothing but positive. Many days I felt myself getting cranky due to the heat, the hunger, the exhaustion. But it was easy to put my problems in perspective by thinking of how much harder it was for everyone else. And to remember that the point of Ramadan is to experience the heat, the hunger, etc, and live through the difficulty. If it were easy, it would be pointless. Also, Ramadan finally got everyone else as interested in the sunset as much as I am! Alhamdoulilah!