Ramadan

Jordanian life right now is defined by the Muslim holiday of Ramadan: one whole month of fasting. Starting with the with the first call to prayer at sunrise until the evening call to prayer at sunset, all Muslims are prohibited from eating, drinking, smoking or making love . Even before I came, I was excited to be able to experience such a significant, and drastic, cultural phenomenon. People compared it to our Christmas, so I was expecting a similar cultural excitement and celebratory atmosphere. But it turned out to be vastly different from what I thought it would be. Here is a quick observational account of the first day of Ramadan in the house with my host family, and the evening where we broke the fast - the iftar.

Monday, September 1.

A heavy, languid quiet in the afternoon. Little conversation, moving sluggishly, and a tense communicative atmosphere. People living in their own world. Similar to any other day, just with more effort to get through it. Family members sleeping on the couch, the girls wandering in and out. Majd sleeping on the bed. Drawn out expressions, and even as the iftar moves closer, no sign of anticipation. Methodically setting the table - Lina, me and Jenny. I feel removed, almost in the way, feeling like any second I will do something horrendously wrong. Trying my hardest not to step on anybody's toes. Waiting, watching TV, and then shortly after seven, the call to prayer. I hear it, expect a rush to the table, but no, as if they didn't hear the call. Did I imagine it? One by one, slowly, heavily, trickle into the kitchen. Individually settle at a place at the table, while Lina hectically makes last-minute preparations. Everyone else waits to get served, still in their own world. As soon as food is put in front of them, they start eating. No communal, celebratory beginning, and little communication. Lina still busy serving everyone soup, hectically, half annoyed - she wants to eat too! The meal goes like any other meal. People serve themselves, eat from their plates, eat directly from the serving dishes. Use fingers and spoons. Fastest eating I've ever experienced. Whoever is finished, gets up individually and leaves the table. No post-meal lingering, enjoying each other's company. In the end, I am left still working at finishing my food as fast as I can. Leftovers on people's plates scooped back into the serving dishes. Sitting amidst a mound of unfinished platters of food, dirty dishes and a sense of finality. That's it? Family members scattered, some back in the living room, back to the TV. Where do I go? Also back onto the couch in front of the TV, taking in the Arabic which only exhausts me. At around 10, Lina brings in a dessert! Yes! Finally something unique! A type of cookie pie topped with jello. Strange, but delicious. Another evening spent relaxing in front of the TV, until I go to bed around 11:30. 

This was my impressions of the first night, when I was filled with expectation and anticipation for what this special Muslim holiday would be like. Now, after more than a week, the family's mood and the overall atmosphere seems less and less strained. Fasting has become normalized, not only for the family members, but for everyone here as well. It's amazing how your body can get used to anything.  Life during the day is frustrating for me, however. Things aren't open - I still can't figure out store hours. There seems to be no standard on what and when places are open. Friday, the Muslim holy day even outside of Ramadan, is the worst. Amman is dead. 

Yet, being here during Ramadan has been extremely insightful and fascinating. The best way I can describe it, is that society here during Ramadan seems to be so coordinated. The collective quiet of the afternoon, the intense wait hovering over the city, sleepy, hot and tired. The frantic driving of the taxi drivers around six, and the difficulty in finding a taxi at that time. They are all filled and speeding to their destinations. Ramadan is far from being only religious. It's a unification of society, as it seems to act, on the surface, as one homogenous body. I have asked myself how much of fasting is personal religious choice, and how much of it is connected to cultural expectation, and even law? It is against the law to eat and drink in the street for Muslims during Ramadan! Ramadan is virtually an institution. Stepping back, I wonder if our Christmas has the same role in our society, yet because we are so imbedded within a western, Christian, world, we don't even realize it? After the first day of Ramadan, I rejected that comparison of Ramadan and Christmas. Yet, on closer examination, Ramadan and Christmas may be more similar than they seem: both are indicative of a societal cohesion and collective experience, with roots in religious tradition.