Ramadan leaves me feeling hungry, tired and a bit giddy. It also makes me a better person
As a kid, I loved the jubilant celebration. Now, the fasting month is both harder and all the more precious
This First Person column is the experience of Fairouz Gaballa, who lives in Charlottetown. For more information about CBC's First Person stories, please see the FAQ.
The first day of Ramadan is the only time my family has a big suhoor, the pre-dawn meal that marks the beginning of each day's fast.
It means waking up before 6 a.m. and sitting down to a meal of dates, a stew of cooked fava beans, bread and bananas, and finishing up by drinking as much water as possible. This meal is meant to sustain us for the next 12 or more hours.
However, it's easier said than done.
On most days of Ramadan, I'm barely awake enough to grab a drink of water before my head falls back on my pillow for another hour or so when I have to really wake up to get ready for my job at the University of Prince Edward Island. By lunchtime, I often have a pounding headache and feel exhausted, and when I'm exhausted, everything seems 10 times funnier.
It's not even that I'm hungry or thirsty — it's that I'm craving dill pickle when I don't even like dill pickle. I just want to go to sleep, but even when I get home, sleep is hard to find as a master's student whose evenings are busy with classes and writing papers.
Ramadan has always held a special place in my heart. Each year, its arrival — which fluctuates with the lunar cycle — brings with it a sense of anticipation and reflection. My appreciation for Ramadan, I think, was a gradual shift that snowballed with every experience I've had until now.
I was nine when I moved to P.E.I. Before that, I lived in Cairo, where Ramadan was an extravagant celebration. Every street corner was adorned with festive decorations and the shortened workdays meant I could leave school early.
The start of Ramadan also meant special television programming, including an Islamic cartoon to educate children about Ramadan and Islam in a simple manner. I couldn't comprehend why I needed to learn about these things and longed to tune into my favourite shows, like Dora or Totally Spies.
Ramadan remained a time of jubilation for me until around the age of 13, when my mom started giving me more responsibilities to help me take it more seriously. But I didn't actively seek to understand Islam until I was 19, when I realized that I was getting older and I needed to take life — and all that belongs to it — more seriously.
As I've grown older, I've started to notice new dimensions to my life that I hadn't considered before.This year, for example, I've come to love another aspect of Ramadan that I used to dislike.
Usually as soon as I get home, I'd want to take a nap until iftar, the meal eaten after sunset to break our fast. But my mom would always get in the way of my plans, asking me to help chop the onions and garlic or get her the salt or stir the pots or lay the table, until I helped her cook our entire meal. It's our song and dance, which annoyed me as a child, but now I look forward to it. I know my mom loves it when I help her and if those small, mundane tasks make her happy, then that's fine with me.
Unlike previous years when we cooked whatever groceries we had around, this year we're consciously making Egyptian food, since we're all missing the feeling of being in Cairo for this special month. It's been 13 years since we've returned to Egypt for Ramadan.
For me, Ramadan isn't just about abstaining from food and drink; it's about working on myself.
After a full day of working followed by a class that runs until 10 p.m., I'm often so tired that I'll rush through my fifth prayer of the day just so I can go to sleep.
But I know that I'm really supposed to pay more attention to that prayer, because — like with most things — it counts the most when you're struggling the most.
During Ramadan, it's all about pushing through each and every single struggle.
Knowing how much I miss my home country, my two colleagues came together and decorated our office space. One brought in tiny string flowers that she used in her wedding and the other brought in fairy lights and an Arabic-styled lantern. I brought lights that belonged to my grandmother to string across the office.
With a small budget approved by the registrar, we added palm-sized lanterns and signs for Ramadan and Eid on our doors.
I loved that the three of us decorated our office together even though they didn't celebrate Ramadan. My friends did it because they knew how much it would mean to me.
To me, this is what Ramadan is really about.
It transcends mere fasting and becomes a journey of self-discovery, communal bonding and spiritual renewal. As the month unfolds, I embrace its teachings with gratitude and humility, cherishing each moment as an opportunity for growth and connection.
Perhaps I love it so much because of those little moments with my loved ones.
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