Having spent the bulk of my 31 years in Seattle and Utah, the vicarious experience of the Muslim Holy Month of Ramadan has naturally eluded me. Now, with a couple months in the United Arab Emirates under the proverbial belt, I have a have a small window into this dynamic time of spirituality, service, hunger pangs, and subsequent feasts. Many of the people I have spoken with regarding their thoughts on Ramadan have been (who else?) mostly Pakistani cab drivers. (The vast majority of cabbies in A.D. hail from the delightful little town of Peshawar Pakistan--claim to fame: birthplace of Al Queda- among others, I am sure.) These men, usually clad in traditional robes of every pastel color imaginable, have shared some of their thoughts on Ramadan. The majority said that people in the UAE seem to be a bit kinder and a bit less edgy during Ramadan, including Emirati nationals. This is remarkable considering most are fasting from sunrise to sunset- roughly 5:30 AM to 6:30 PM.
Most people expressed a feeling of increased spirituality in being able to turn their thoughts to serving the poor, and being more united with them (at least united in hunger). The local government has set up large white tents throughout the city in which the “less fortunate,” mostly Pakistanis, Afghanis, Bangladeshis and Indians from what I can see, queue for free food every evening during Ramadan. Sometimes I will peer out of our 16th floor apartment where we are staying temporarily and listen to the magical sound of the call to prayer (which occurs 5 times a day) blasting out of the large minaret of the neighboring mosque and echoing off the buildings of downtown. I look down to the street to see a sea of pastel robes gathering around a large white tent bearing the words Ramadan Kareem (a seasonal greeting). The meal that breaks the fast during the Holy Month is known as iftar (not to be confused with Ishtar, the worst movie ever made, starring a much younger Dustin Hoffman). At least for Emirati nationals, iftar is often shared with family and friends, gorging on hordes of traditional Arabic foods, never short on the ultimate Ramadan staple: the date.
Around sunset the streets are almost empty as people head home to eat with their families. This is for the best, as most of the accidents will happen in the late afternoons as people become delirious or enraged after a day of fasting. Then, soon afterward, the streets begin to throb with energy as people head out on the town, filling shi-sha (flavored tobacco) bars, restaurants, and malls, usually busy until the morning hours. The malls, which are ironically and perhaps unfortunately the main places during the hot sultry summer months to view the masses of humanity in action in this town, are packed with Emirati men and teenagers in the traditional kandora (white robe with white or red/white checkered headdress), women covered from head to foot in the traditional sheyla ( black headscarf- sometimes covering even the face) and abeyya (black floor-length robe), kids running wild in unsupervised packs. Last night we got out of a movie at 1:00 AM and the buzz was still at full-throttle, showing no signs of abating. I suppose there is a reason Ramadan lasts for only a month, terminating in Eid al Fitr at the end of September this year. Eid is when people often leave town and recover from the nocturnal lifestyle of Ramadan.
Most people expressed a feeling of increased spirituality in being able to turn their thoughts to serving the poor, and being more united with them (at least united in hunger). The local government has set up large white tents throughout the city in which the “less fortunate,” mostly Pakistanis, Afghanis, Bangladeshis and Indians from what I can see, queue for free food every evening during Ramadan. Sometimes I will peer out of our 16th floor apartment where we are staying temporarily and listen to the magical sound of the call to prayer (which occurs 5 times a day) blasting out of the large minaret of the neighboring mosque and echoing off the buildings of downtown. I look down to the street to see a sea of pastel robes gathering around a large white tent bearing the words Ramadan Kareem (a seasonal greeting). The meal that breaks the fast during the Holy Month is known as iftar (not to be confused with Ishtar, the worst movie ever made, starring a much younger Dustin Hoffman). At least for Emirati nationals, iftar is often shared with family and friends, gorging on hordes of traditional Arabic foods, never short on the ultimate Ramadan staple: the date.
Around sunset the streets are almost empty as people head home to eat with their families. This is for the best, as most of the accidents will happen in the late afternoons as people become delirious or enraged after a day of fasting. Then, soon afterward, the streets begin to throb with energy as people head out on the town, filling shi-sha (flavored tobacco) bars, restaurants, and malls, usually busy until the morning hours. The malls, which are ironically and perhaps unfortunately the main places during the hot sultry summer months to view the masses of humanity in action in this town, are packed with Emirati men and teenagers in the traditional kandora (white robe with white or red/white checkered headdress), women covered from head to foot in the traditional sheyla ( black headscarf- sometimes covering even the face) and abeyya (black floor-length robe), kids running wild in unsupervised packs. Last night we got out of a movie at 1:00 AM and the buzz was still at full-throttle, showing no signs of abating. I suppose there is a reason Ramadan lasts for only a month, terminating in Eid al Fitr at the end of September this year. Eid is when people often leave town and recover from the nocturnal lifestyle of Ramadan.
2 comments:
What an unparalleled adventure. I am completely fascinated.
aw man. i cant wait to come and experience it myself. can you put more pictures on here? i 'm just making up what everyone and everything looks like in my head, but i know that my imagination is wrong.
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