Slowly Fasting
Since my last post, Ramadan has gotten underway, and we're already in the fourth week, which means it's almost over. For those unfamiliar with Islam, Ramadan is a bit like the Muslim equivilant to lent. It involves a 28 day fast, during which no water or food is consumed during the day. So it's been a little over three weeks since the Muslims got started, and needless to say people are getting a little thin and a little antsy.
I decided to join the Muslims in fasting for the fourth (and last) week of Ramadan, so no food or water for me from 5am to 6pm. There are several motivations behind the fast: Firstly, I think it is serving as an interesting lesson in self-control. I've never really fasted or done anything on this level, so I thought I should give it a run. Second, I’ve reasoned that if I was in a village of 100% Muslims, I would fast, simply to show some solidarity and partly because there would be nothing to eat during the day anyway (When in Rome… or, Africa). So since my village is about 25% Muslim, I’m doing 25% of Ramadan. Other reasons include that by fasting, I’ll get invited to everyone’s parties on Friday to celebrate the end, which will be fun and delicious and I'll feel like I've actually earned the right to enjoy it. And finally because I’ve had so many people tell me that the white man would never be able to survive the fast like the Muslims, so I’ve decided to prove them wrong. That’s right, I’m fasting out of spite. (…a little bit.) In the end, it’s worth it for all of the above-stated reasons.
So this week I'm eating dinner at my friend Abba's house every night. He's the one that's pretty much walking me through the process. He's really nice, and his wife is a FANTASTIC cook. So I go over and fill up on delicious food (usually corn couscous, more like polenta, with a leaf sauce or okra) and pass the time. The first day I didn't prepare very well as far as the morning meal goes, so I was already pretty hungry by 8:30 am. Oops. I was already doubting that I'd be able to make it, but I stuck it through and waited until the evening. So now she fills up my hot-food thermos with food for the next morning, and gives me a thermos full of bouille, which is that sugary drink that fills up your stomach. Head home, and wake up to eat and drink water before the sun rises. It's a good challenge, but nothing too exhausting.
The last day of the fast is on Thursday. On Friday morning, all the Muslims gather at the mosque for the final prayer, decked out in all new clothing, and then head back to their houses for parties and food, passing the day at ease. And during the afternoon/evening, children walk all around the quartier to ask for candy and presents; their version of trick-or-treating, I suppose. I'm looking forward to it, and from what I hear the mosque is quite the sight during that prayer.
So there are three more days for us after today, and it looks like that I'm going to be able to pull it off after all. Two points for the white man.
I decided to join the Muslims in fasting for the fourth (and last) week of Ramadan, so no food or water for me from 5am to 6pm. There are several motivations behind the fast: Firstly, I think it is serving as an interesting lesson in self-control. I've never really fasted or done anything on this level, so I thought I should give it a run. Second, I’ve reasoned that if I was in a village of 100% Muslims, I would fast, simply to show some solidarity and partly because there would be nothing to eat during the day anyway (When in Rome… or, Africa). So since my village is about 25% Muslim, I’m doing 25% of Ramadan. Other reasons include that by fasting, I’ll get invited to everyone’s parties on Friday to celebrate the end, which will be fun and delicious and I'll feel like I've actually earned the right to enjoy it. And finally because I’ve had so many people tell me that the white man would never be able to survive the fast like the Muslims, so I’ve decided to prove them wrong. That’s right, I’m fasting out of spite. (…a little bit.) In the end, it’s worth it for all of the above-stated reasons.
So this week I'm eating dinner at my friend Abba's house every night. He's the one that's pretty much walking me through the process. He's really nice, and his wife is a FANTASTIC cook. So I go over and fill up on delicious food (usually corn couscous, more like polenta, with a leaf sauce or okra) and pass the time. The first day I didn't prepare very well as far as the morning meal goes, so I was already pretty hungry by 8:30 am. Oops. I was already doubting that I'd be able to make it, but I stuck it through and waited until the evening. So now she fills up my hot-food thermos with food for the next morning, and gives me a thermos full of bouille, which is that sugary drink that fills up your stomach. Head home, and wake up to eat and drink water before the sun rises. It's a good challenge, but nothing too exhausting.
The last day of the fast is on Thursday. On Friday morning, all the Muslims gather at the mosque for the final prayer, decked out in all new clothing, and then head back to their houses for parties and food, passing the day at ease. And during the afternoon/evening, children walk all around the quartier to ask for candy and presents; their version of trick-or-treating, I suppose. I'm looking forward to it, and from what I hear the mosque is quite the sight during that prayer.
So there are three more days for us after today, and it looks like that I'm going to be able to pull it off after all. Two points for the white man.
posted by Ryan @ 5:30 AM
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