Oh Ramadhan, How You Complete Me...

I received a letter from Islamic Relief USA a few days ago. The organization is part of a worldwide agency that seeks to alleviate poverty in various parts of the world. I usually send my zakaat (obligatory annual Islamic tax on savings which goes to needy causes) to them, so they have me on their mailing list. In it, Anwar Khan, the general manager, writes:

"I remember while on assignment in Mali, the children sat quietly in over 100 degree heat with no coverings over their heads. When they ate, they ate quietly, 10 children sharing one bowl of oatmeal and two pieces of meat. No child fought with another for food. Each child licked their fingers, making sure they ate every grain of oatmeal from that bowl. These children were lucky to get a meal that day. Thinking of how children here bicker over food while these poor children in Mali ate with grace and dignity had a profound effect on me."

I think that for about 335 days of the year, it is easy for me to take for granted the things I have. I tend to take basic things for granted like clean, fresh water, a comfortable place to sleep; breakfast, lunch and dinner and how many ever in-between snacks my heart desires. This may sound like a somewhat cheesy cliche, but for most of the year, I really don't think about these things. However, for 30 days each year, when bound by religious tradition, I cease to eat or drink (or, dreadfully, curse and gossip) from sunrise to sunset, I become a lot more aware of what it is like to go without these things. So when I do break my fast in the evening, it is with great humility and gratitude that I look at my plate of food and my glass of water and think, "wow, I am lucky." It has also helped me to become more sympathetic to the hungry person. I personally would never say no to a hungry person requesting food. I deny people money all the time; I don't think it's necessarily wise to give a street dweller cash because you never know what they're going to do with it. But I'm very likely to buy anyone who asks a sandwich, or a piece of fruit or something, because I know what it feels like to be truly hungry, or thirsty. I've put a link to the charity in my links section, so hopefully when this bloggie makes it big, people will go and see what it's about.

Now fasting isn't only about feeling hungry and sympathizing with those that are. The main idea of fasting is to develop self-restraint. I can easily fake a fast; no one would know if, when I come home during the day, I shovel down a meal and head back to work. Or if I woke up at 9 and had a huge breakfast. So the point of the process really becomes a personal one; between you and your maker. Or for atheists who find some good in fasting, between you and nothing. Either way, it fine tunes the self discipline and the self restraint. Yesterday I almost got into a huge shouting match with my coworker again, but I said, yo, I am fasting. I might as well go over to the break room and drink me a good big glass of water than yell obscenities at you. So in the end, we were able to discuss our issue in a civilized manner. Lucky for her, because the last time I just cussed and yelled a lot. So I'm learning to curb that kind of gangsterness and ignorance as well, which is good. And I feel much better resolving a problem than resorting to simply overpowering her with my loudness/lewdness.

So these are the gains I make from fasting in Ramadhan. As a matter of fact, I think they are so universally useful, that (Allah forbid) if I should ever cease to be a Muslim, I would probably still fast a bit now and again. It makes sense that Ramadhan happens every year though, because as with all good lessons, one tends to forget... a reminder every now and then works well.

Next time: a horrible image that has stuck with me forever and why I don't ever want to forget it.