The Ramadan Diaries, Chapter 2

I've remarked to several people, perhaps much to their concern, that I've been feeling as though I'm the subject of an isolation experiment, left to my own devices in a confined space day after day for observation. Look, look, he's at the computer again. Fascinating. Now he's walking to the other side of the room. Yes, write it down. Write it all down...

As the furnace rages on outdoors, I remain a prisoner to my house until the late evening hours when escape is possible, into the still-not-brisk-but-at-least-not-scorching night air. The days are very much the same, filled with nearly identical activities, only in a different order.

We're now a little over halfway through Ramadan. On our nightly walks we've watched the moon grow from its sliver to full; now it wanes its way toward darkness again. The first faint traces of the crescent visible after the new moon will indicate the end of Ramadan, and we'll celebrate l3id sghir, the small feast.

I haven't found the hunger to be particularly any more tolerable. It is an ever-present sensation, continually tugging, reminding. I've noticed that in the hour or so before breaking the fast (about 7:20 PM), I feel lightheaded and a little loopy. When I do finally eat, I've learned that I'm not able to consume my normal portions without some serious discomfort, feeling wayyy too full. Of course when one is so hungry, it's hard to resist not engulfing everything in front of you, or going back for a heaping bowl of seconds. It took me some time to stop doing that. I've observed that the Moroccans don't eat much during lftur (breakfast) either, having a bowl of soup and a nibble or two of this or that, hardly making any noticeable dent in the cornucopia-esque array before them.

I've been making the rounds, having breakfast with the families of my friends and local acquaintances, which has been great. Last year I kept pretty much to myself, but I'm really enjoying getting to know the families better, and the visits are tremendously pleasant. I've adopted the practice of eating a late dinner around eleven or midnight, and dropped the suhoor meal in the pre-dawn hours. My body clock has shifted; I stay up a few hours later and, proportionally, sleep in a few hours later.

I am looking forward to finishing. While I do enjoy the spirit of the time, I am not crazy about the lack of energy and torpor that seems to be self-perpetuating. I fantasize about getting "back on track", physically and mentally. Without the religious obligation, I have to make my own relevant reasons for doing this, otherwise it's just sitting around being hungry until you can eat. My motivations are very much in accordance, at least in my understanding, with those of the Muslim world-- practicing patience, developing a more deliberate intent toward kindness and giving, and reflecting on what you have. It's good stuff.

A friend's succinct words regarding Ramadan:

I watched an interview with a woman on television, and she was talking about the time of Ramadan, "when all the Muslims make themselves suffer", and she thinks we are crazy to do it. But she doesn't know at all. We are happy, and we want to fast. Ramadan is one of the best times in the life for us.

Checking Out

During a recent Skype call with my former sitemate, while reminiscing upon her final months of Peace Corps service last year, she uttered a phrase that seemed wildly apt to describe my status quo: checked out. It had not occurred to me to label my current mentality as such, though once she said it, it rang clear and true-- I am totally checking out. Though I haven't dropped my key off at the front desk or even stepped into the elevator, I am sitting in my room awaiting the arrival of the airport shuttle.

It's true, I'm afraid; it happened without my notice. I haven't felt very invigorated by or engaged with my environment these days. Granted, this was likely brought on due to the natural lethargy and idle hours of summer in Morocco. This time, however, I'm not sure there will be any bouncing back. Which is fine. I've felt for a while now that I've just been killing time-- work stuff has played out pretty much as far as it can go during my time here. The best I can do now is to be a good stepping stone for the next volunteer, preparing information about my service and ideas/possibilities for where things could be taken from here. So I did that. *looks at watch*

What I do find invigorating and exciting are the prospects for life post-PC. I spend a lot of time exploring the possibilities. Though I will undoubtedly miss this place, the people, my friends and sitemate more than I realize at the moment, I'm very much ready to move on-- ready for the next things to come. It is time, and I'm getting pretty antsy because technically, it is not time just yet. Of course there is still lots of opportunity for good stuff during the remaining months, as you never know when it's coming or from where. It's just more of a struggle than ever to be present for it. Even on a walk with a friend outside of the neighborhood, surrounded by fields and low green mountains, I find myself thinking of the French countryside, old buildings of Copenhagen, finally seeing my family and Illinois, exploring the Bay area, going to school, applying for jobs, walking down a "normal" sidewalk, being in America again...

The Ramadan Diaries, Chapter 1

I spent the night before the fast began on a train traveling most of the way across the country. I was awoken at 3:30 AM by the sound of crinkling plastic wrappers and backpacks unzipping as my Moroccan compartment-mates had suhoor, the pre-dawn meal. I took the opportunity to ingest the apple, banana, and Snickers bar I had brought along, as well as take a final swig from my water bottle. Though not planning to refrain from water, I didn't want to drink in front of anyone, and seeing as how I still had another many hours to travel by train, taxi, and bus, there wouldn't be another opportunity to sneak a sip.

Arriving in the oven that was Marrakech only to squeeze aboard a sweltering and packed bus was considerably unpleasant. The communal discomfort was palpable, and it was a strange and remarkable sensation of kinship to realize that every individual was simultaneously experiencing the same intense thirst, and I was a part of that whole.

I am only doing a sort of Ramadan Light; though I am not consuming food during the daylight hours, I am continuing to drink water within the confines of my house. To refrain from that would be a different beast entirely. To go without food for twelve hours or so can be uncomfortable, but going without water is genuine suffering, and a true test of endurance. Not that one would guess so by looking around. As with the two previous Ramadans I have experienced here, I am completely humbled by the badassed-ness of the Moroccans who continue to work as normal, often under the scorching summer sun, and especially the women who spend their days surrounded by the sights and scents of the evening meals as they assume the day-long task of preparing them.

Thus far, four days in, it hasn't been so bad. The hunger is tolerable, though it does hit suddenly and intensely at times, and I have found myself involuntarily getting up to head to the kitchen. It's good to keep distracted, which I have done so far by reading, playing guitar, sorting through the ton of miscellaneous crap in my spare room, and prematurely preparing for moving out. Much like before, the afternoons are long and the streets quiet. The heat of summer persists though lately it is showing signs of decrease, lowering from 100+ to low 90's, a significant and welcome change. Today I awoke to cool air and the smell of rain in the street, and small showers accompanied by low booms of thunder have continued amble over periodically throughout the afternoon.

I broke the fast with my host family two nights ago, which is always a good time. A typical Ramadan breakfast spread looks like this: multiple fruit and sugar-based juices, often banana or apple, chebakia, harira, cookies, coffee, dates, hard boiled eggs, slilou (a mixture of spices, flour, oil, seeds and nuts, crushed into a powder), fish, fat bread, and various cakes. It is not a light meal. I shudder to think what would become of my insides if I were to consume such a thing for thirty nights in a row, though I was offered an "unsettling" insight during my first homestay in Ramadan of late 2008. Anyway, before leaving it was insisted that I also eat dinner-- a heaping mound of couscous with veggies and chicken. It was delicious, though I could have used an hour or two interlude between the meals rather than a back-to-back dining experience... but I've been here two years; I am a pro.

Though there is no shortage of people to visit for breakfasts, I plan to spend the majority of them at home, eating at my own pace the food of my own choosing. I set my alarm for four AM in order to eat suhoor, after which I head back to sleep until at least after the sun has risen. Personally I don't find sitting half-conscious on the edge of one's bed choking down bowls of grape-nuts (thanks mom!) and egg sandwiches at four in the morning to be the most alluring of activities, but it's all part of the fun.

As for why I've opted to fast this year, this is my last chance to participate while still immersed in the culture. The prospects of going without and being at the mercy of one's own will are always intriguing challenges to entertain and I'm curious to see how I hold up while enjoying a greater appreciation for things. I can tell you that even after just four days, the food tastes so much better.

One Last Hurrah

One of the rules of Peace Corps states that Volunteers cannot take a leave of absence during the first or final three months of service. Seeing as my COS date is just over three months away, it's time to cash in the last of my vacation days and be whisked away via twelve hour train ride toooooo: Ras El Ma, or Cap de l'eau, if you'd prefer.

Ras El Ma, a small beach town on the Mediterranean coast, is in the northeastern corner of the country near the Algerian border. Aside from that I don't know much about it, but the pictures look nice.

I'm looking forward to the much-needed time out of site, seeing a new area of the country, and spending some time with everyone. Oh, and being at the beach on the Mediterranean. Right. Also is the possibility of a visit to the first host family's place afterward, though as it isn't on the way and funds are extremely limited, it's up in the air for the moment.

I'll be away for about a week, returning to site just as-- dun dun dun-- Ramadan hits.