Ramadan will begin either tomorrow or the next day (August 22 or 23), whenever the first sliver of the moon's crescent becomes visible in the night sky. I'm not sure how the official distinction is made, though I'd like to think that the Islamic world's top astronomers gather each night in an observatory hidden in some high hills, shoving one another out of the way for a turn at the telescope, each eager to spot it first and make the announcement via red telephone set.
Regardless of how that happens, what will follow is a month of abstaining from food, water, impure thoughts and activities, etc. during the daylight hours. Men won't smoke cigarettes and women will not wear makeup. Families will stay up late eating under the cover of night. People may get a tad grumpy.
I arrived during Ramadan last year (September 9th marks the one year anniversary of my first day in country-- holy crap) and I remember seeing the blank faces of men at cafés, sitting empty-handed behind empty tables, wearily passing the days. Though the idea of abstaining to such an extreme measure and then spending what would normally be your sleeping hours eating might not sound so appealing, most people here seem to anticipate it eagerly and with excitement. It's a time to realign oneself with proper attitudes and practices, a time to deepen one's relationship and devotion to God, and a time of charity and forgiveness.
I recall last year, living at my first host family's house in Itzer (Pantsville), waking up early for all-day language classes, hearing my poor host sister in the kitchen, having woken up even earlier to prepare breakfast for me, the heathen. I kid; they were always extremely sweet and respectful toward me in that regard, never pressuring or proselytizing. Though I'm not planning to fast this Ramadan, I'm interested to see how day-to-day life will be affected this time around, living independently in a stable and familiar environment, having adjusted more to the culture. I picture myself cooking meals, shutters closed, duct tape over the cracks in the windows to prevent the escape of any delicious aromas, chewing extra quietly in a makeshift bunker in the darkest corner of my house. Hopefully I can join a few of my friends and their families for some twilight breakfasts, though I think I will be passing on the pre-dawn dinner.
Look-- corn! Just like home.....
I arrived during Ramadan last year (September 9th marks the one year anniversary of my first day in country-- holy crap) and I remember seeing the blank faces of men at cafés, sitting empty-handed behind empty tables, wearily passing the days. Though the idea of abstaining to such an extreme measure and then spending what would normally be your sleeping hours eating might not sound so appealing, most people here seem to anticipate it eagerly and with excitement. It's a time to realign oneself with proper attitudes and practices, a time to deepen one's relationship and devotion to God, and a time of charity and forgiveness.
I recall last year, living at my first host family's house in Itzer (Pantsville), waking up early for all-day language classes, hearing my poor host sister in the kitchen, having woken up even earlier to prepare breakfast for me, the heathen. I kid; they were always extremely sweet and respectful toward me in that regard, never pressuring or proselytizing. Though I'm not planning to fast this Ramadan, I'm interested to see how day-to-day life will be affected this time around, living independently in a stable and familiar environment, having adjusted more to the culture. I picture myself cooking meals, shutters closed, duct tape over the cracks in the windows to prevent the escape of any delicious aromas, chewing extra quietly in a makeshift bunker in the darkest corner of my house. Hopefully I can join a few of my friends and their families for some twilight breakfasts, though I think I will be passing on the pre-dawn dinner.
Look-- corn! Just like home.....
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