Much Ado About Eid - Day 1 of Shawwal!

Eid. To rise early, to dress in your Sunday best (!), to walk solemnly yet contentedly in silence, to pray in unison, to express gratitude for endurance and to part looking forward. Eid begins with the silence of dawn.

Once home you dust off your coffeepot, squeeze your orange juice and labour over a well deserved breakfast. Which you don't have time to eat because you have to get to work on this side of the world! And so I did all cheery carrying my large Buckstars coffee mug ready to squeeze the last drop of caffeine from the disgusting stale milk coffee machine ...just... because ....I ...can. Lunacy aside, strutting into work with my brand new socks on I felt like the million rupee woman I was! This cathartic feeling lasted about 5 minutes - the exact time it took for my computer to start up, reboot and my emails to load. Still my resolve was unshakable and come lunch time I stepped in my tank and roared to the Arabian ghettos of Holland in search of baked goodness to give me some semblance of "home". Like a hunter I sniffed out the best sugary delights for my new tradition quizzing the bakers whilst marvelling at the goods like Hannibal at an unlcoked morgue (too far?).

Having turned my colleagues into cookie monsters and finished my work, I went off to town on my bike rearing to unleash the sugar fest in my carrier. Wind in my hair, crumbs on my chest, I arrived at the busiest square in town. And there we stood, me and my greatest friend and comrade in crime, armed with cookies and ready to fire at the unassuming Friday evening folk. Let the new tradition begin!

You know how much I love my strangers. The thought of including them in my fast as well as my celebration was too good to pass up. The idea is simple, Eid is about sharing. I wanted to share with complete strangers the simple gesture of giving. Again. Giving for no reason other than giving. And so we set off amongst the people offering cookies, stories and tumbleweed humour. That, and practically lining their stomachs for them. I was not out to convince anyone of Ramadan or Islam. I just wanted to hand out sweets, have a laugh with my friend, up that feel- good factor and go home with a smug smile on my face. That we also came to be seen as reactionaries was an added bonus.

There is no such thing as a predictable reaction - just a preconceived counter-reaction. And some of those were priceless. Some strangers were ever so friendly - grateful for the gift and keen to hear the reasoning behind it all. Some threw questions at us demanding our motivation and secretly wondering whether or not we had laced the cookies. Few others regarded us like filth, refused the cookie and looked for the nearest uniform in sight. The 75% that did enjoy it made it worth it! The ones who made the concise effort to say thank you and hold a thumbs up made it worth it. The idea that maybe some people may erase some of the hard lines around their preconceptions made it worth it. The fact that some people thought that by mere virtue of being a Muslim I would know why Iran's Ahmadinnerjacket is adamant about nuclear power made it worth it. That one guy who would only take a cookie if I would drink beer made it worth it. That the common reason women refused the cookie was on account of their diet made it worth it. That I got my cultural integration into Dutch society questioned by foreigners made it worth it. That one part of a couple loved the idea and the other hated it made it worth it. That above all else my non-fasting, non-muslim friend did this with me, in order for me to feel like I have a tradition, made it worthwhile. Eid this year was made special thanks to the many wonderful strangers and their ability to receive and react. More so, thanks to my best friend for never failing to be more than family.

With the cookie boxes empty and our minds full we went back home a thousand nights richer.

Eid may begin with the silence of dawn, but it always ends with the clamour of night.

Last Lap - Day 27 to 30

The final stretch. The last days to prove that everything was worth it. And the final episodes of Ramadan soap-operas! Yes it all comes together now. The near triumphant cacophony of excitement can be sensed on every street corner in Egypt. Everyone suddenly centres their lives around that end sprint - the women in an unspoken 24/7 bake-off between one another to master the coronary clog cookie kahk (spiced butter cookie), the children (a7baab allah..) tugging at their parent's hems to buy them new clothes for the Eid prayer, the cafe owners polishing their finest shishas for the return of day time coffee & a smoke, the petulant schoolchildren paying even less attention to focus instead on how they will spend their edeya [eid money gift] during their upcoming holiday, and even the sheep as they retreat into a corner in fear of the oncoming slaughter (or just chewing grass...).



Yes, all sights and sounds coalesce into one big unfathomable moment reminiscent of those first few moments before the curtains are drawn, the lights come up and the symphony strikes the first chord in full harmony. The chaos before the symbiotic performance commences. That is Egypt in the last three days of Ramadan. It has absolutely nothing to do with the Ramadan of the last 26 days.

Alas, even if you teach that man to fish, there is no guarantee he will eat it.

Now that I got the Grinch Who Stole The Last Three Days of Ramadan act out of the way I can proceed to tell you the other side of that story. Four hours up and one hour across in Holland the only concern I have is how to come up with a new tradition for Eid. That and why are my parents not calling me back? And how much I would love to have a artery clogging cookie right now.

The last three days consist of looking forward to the end of Ramadan to put into practice the theory of self improvement, restraint and balance. That's what it should be about anyway. Breaking your fast on Day 30 you are set with the knowledge that eventhough tomorrow you can enjoy breakfast at a human hour again, it is the hope and resilience of the past month that will nourish you up to next year. And re-runs of your favourite soap!

Power to the night of Power - Day 26

Today is my birthday.

Well, it is my lunar birthday. I was born on the most significant night in the Islamic calendar nearly 3 decades ago now - Lilt el Kadr [the night of power]. This is the only one of my three birthdays to ever be remembered by my parents. Bless em. This night however is not about me. Lilt el Kadr is about understanding the revelation. Celebrating in mind and spirit the power of knowledge.

It was today many more decades ago (okay centuries) that the Quran was revealed to the Prophet by the angel Gabriel. God revealed the Koran to Gabriel who then, verse by verse, ordered the Prophet to read [iqrah]. There are many variations on this but the most important and consistent element is the order to read. Today is meant to be devoted to reading the Quran and prayer. The verse in the Quran regarding Lilt el Kadr explains how this night is worthier than one thousands months. The idea being that to pray on this night is the equivalent of having prayed for one thousand months. The belief being that all your sins may be forgiven on this night of power. It is not only your actions but moreover your neya [intentions] that will determine your reward on this night. To perform a prayer is one thing; to declare to yourself the neya to undertake the spiritual journey of self improvement is another.

The surah in the Quran regarding this night begins with a disclaimer which transliterated amounts to 'Bestowed upon you is this revelation on the night of power; and what may you fathom to be this night of power'. It is in this disclaimer that we should be reminded of our human shortcoming to understand the concept of power, whether in terms of omnipotence or human power. Hence we are beckoned to read. The first revelation made ordered man to read. It would seem that we have almost forgotten this basic principle.

Qadr is derived from qadar (destiny/will). In the early days of Islam qadar was poised by a simple concept that whatever happens to you was supposed to happen to you and whatever did not happen to you was not supposed to happen to you. My mother often repeated this to me whenever I did not get that one job or placement, missed my flight, lost my keys, had my wallet stolen, whatever the situation it would always be “it was God’s will” or “May God only bring near that what is good for you and hide from your side that which is evil”. Why was God wasting time on my wallet? And, being the horrendously curious child that I was (and still am!), I could not help but state the obvious “but what if it’s qadar that evil should come my way so that good may come to others?” My irrational idealist reasoning was flawless. Not. Qadar in a sense is the theos-statutory limitation on free will. It is also that fluffy wall you can rub up against should nothing go your way “it was God’s will”. Overuse is dangerous. Not studying for an exam and claiming it was God’s will that you fail for example is not correct use of the terminology. Engaging in senseless violence on account of fictional divides and claiming it's qadar is not down with God either.

It is common that the Night of Power falls on the odd days of the last ten days of Ramadan. How it should fall on the 26^th day this year is beyond me. This also adds to the confusion my parents already hold regarding my date of birth. I can’t even blame the moon on this one. One practice that some adhere to during the last ten days of Ramadan is the I'tikaf [to stand by one’s decision]. In terms of Ramadan, I’tikaf means retreating to the mosque for the last ten days to block out any external influences and focus on praying and reading the Qur'an. Hardcore practitioners may reside 24/7 at the mosque for the entire duration. It is not far off from staying at a convent or monastery to consolidate one’s relationship with God. It is admirable on the one hand and in some cases it is taking the safest route. Beyond the safety of the mosque, there is work, commitments, family, etc. Those are the perils we must learn to endure and simultaneously derive our strength from to make it through the month. I am just not sure where the jihad (internal struggle – I insist on using the correct translation) is in locking oneself up for 10 days?

My moment of spiritual epiphany was a result of sharing a space with one million people, my inability to do math and a great dose of humour. A few years ago now I went with my parents to Mecca to undertake the Umrah [small pilgrimage]. It was not the first time I had been to Mecca. I know - many would give an arm and a leg to be in my position and believe you me I have some sense of the magnitude of the privilege. However, the first time I was in Mecca I was say 5 years old, and believe you me again the fondest memory I have is of sleeping under my Tom&Jerry duvet. So I cannot wholeheartedly say the first time I went to Mecca I experienced a spiritual awakening - they didn't have those t-shirts back then.

My memories from then linger on cartoon duvets, rotisserie chicken and the smell of rain. As if a right of passage from child to adolescent to adult, the last time I was there I remember standing outside the Mosque briefly after finishing the Umrah, my slippers in one hand with the other hand holding that of my mother's, looking up at the massive structure of white marble I could not help but look past the mosque, past the flock of white clad women, past the book vendors, past the 5 star hotels and on to the horrid bright yellow M only 100 meters away from the mosque. I swore out loud. Gone was the start of my sin-free life - only downhill from there on out.

The beginning of the pilgrimage saw qadar beyond qadr. Standing amidst the sea of believers I could not help but question my neya[intentions] and whether I deserved, let alone belonged, there. Where, along the scale of good to bad, did I belong? Was I standing next to a saint or a sinner? For 9 days I slept very little, read a lot, and after dawn I would lull myself to sleep with Vonnegut's 'Galapagos', if only for a couple of hours. The ninth day, when we actually preformed the Umrah, I woke up with the realistion that my thoughts were absolutely useless and that I was there because I was supposed to be there. End of story. Why it took 9 sleepless days - lets put it down to a futile jihad. One part of the Umrah is the Safa and Marwa where you walk up and down seven times between the two small mountains. As fate would have it, this signifies the struggle my name mate Hagar with an 'a', wife of Abraham, endured in search of water for her newborn son Ismael. She climbed both mountains look for a well, and she did this seven times before she returned to her son Ismael where by the patter of his feet a spring erupted which till this day flows - the Zamzam well. Why did she run between the mountains exactly seven times (3.15km)? I don't know. What I do know is that whilst I was pushing my mother in her wheelchair between Safe and Marwa, I lost count and we ended up running 9 times (3.9km). We figured next time we can just do 5 and call it even - the well is still there!

The whole idea of the pilgrimage in Islam is a commemeration of the onness of faith. Unity despite the diversity in race, gender, method of belief. Moving as one, praying as one, being one. The set of movements throughout serve as a reminder of the cause and effect paradigm. My actions are your actions are their actions. This realisation is what pulled me through in the end - qadar - the will of unity. It remains difficult to explain how a shared moment of doubt, fear, elation, humour, and absolute calm with not only my mother but around one million others at the same time leads to a light-bulb moment. Some say its like being at a concert but it is nothing as implicit as such. This is a silent testimony of humanity with as underlying soundtrack the patter of feet, the cricket and bird song, and the determination of your intentions to build on your willpower.

And it all comes together on a night like tonight ...

Damn the Divide - Day 20 to 25

What else could this month be about? How about bridging the gap? Ditching the divide? I am talking about the theological question: to Sunni or Shi'ia?

To make up a story about the divide would be more fathomable than the actuality. Then again since when is politics plausible? The abridged version of the Sunni vs Shi'ia divide would read as follows:- The good prophet Mohamed, died in 632 not having left any clear instructions regarding how his successor to lead the Ummuh (Muslim collective) would be chosen - other than those detailed in one of the revelations calling for election endorsed by consensus. This was clearly not clear enough. When Abu Bakr, the Prophet's father in law and confrere, was elected as his successor, a sudden resurgence of what could inevitably be under-described as gahaliya [unknowing/backwardness/irritability leading to violence/'my tribe is right!'] (Arabic is a language of context and nuance...) took place. The Prophet fought hard against this concept during his life time, advising his followers to not fall prey to this consensus. Contrary to popular belief the Prophet did not dictate the revelations to his followers; he questioned them as much as the next scholar would. Wisdom, he taught, would alleviate ignorance and abet the uprise of gahaliya. However, without leaving much in the way of a "Dummies Guide to Elections" it was only a matter of time before his efforts would become unravelled.

Abu Bakr was one of the first converts to Islam and the forefather of Sufism (another post...). He was a great believer in the Prophet's message and with his high status in society as a great tradesmen, he surrounded the Prophet with followers of equal importance to assist him in spreading his message of Islam. I am choosing my words carefully here. Note how I am not saying 'spreading Islam' but rather his message. This is on account of the fact that the revelations were bound into the Koran as we know it today after his death. Abu Bakr came to be the Caliph of the Message and was supported in his role as successor by most of the Prophet's following except the Prophet's son in law Ali Ibn Abu Talib. Ali was married to the Fatima, daughter of the Prophet and his first wife Khadija, who shortly died after her father's death. There were stories about Fatima being the one who pushed Ali to go against the decision of the Ummah to see Abu Bakr as successor. No one knows with certainty, but given that she died so soon after her father I am not sure how this story can hold up.

The likelihood is that, as with modern day politics, when a political vacuum is created, it’s never one person that scrambles alone to fill it. In this case the Prophet had indeed left a politico-religious vacuum that had to be filled as soon as it was created after his death in order to, amongst other things, safeguard the intricate web of alliances he had created with the tribes surrounding Mecca and Medina. In their bid for election Abu Bakr received the popular vote based on his experience, status and overall eligibility as the right hand to the Prophet; Ali's bid was more emotional claiming that the Prophet should be succeeded based on bloodline and given that he is the son-in-law, father of the Prophet's grandsons Hassan and Hussein, he should be the Caliph. Democracy vs Divine Ordinance. Tough choice.

So tough in fact that the fresh new Muslim Ummah divided itself already into Sunni - following Abu Bakr's decree as successor; and Shi'ia - receiving their go-no-go commands from Ali. However, Sunni Muslims still recognise Ali as the fourth Caliph as opposed to the Shi'ia belief that Ali is the first Caliph. This may be sufficient cause for rift. Not. In reality, at the time of the initial divide it was not as prominent as in modern day. It has been estimated that Shi'ias make up about 15% of the Muslim world. Pakistan, Lebanon and Iran hold the majority - Iran holding about 60 million. Iraq and Bahrain are a Shia-majority countries.

Is it necessary to say any more? I let the following images speak for themselves ...or through the words written on them. Indeed.

And we are back to where we started. As Ibn Khaldoun said - civilisations will heave and haul throughout a cycle untill some semblance of balance is restored. No we are not quite there yet.

Catching the Context - Day 19

It took me 19 days to remember to explain how it came about - this whole fasting thing. How somehow depriving oneself of food came to hold so much meaning and drive people to better themselves. Begs the question whether food is not some sort of culprit we give into 11 months of the year. Of course not - food is good. Depsite what some really odd websites out there say.

The historical context of Ramadan already started with the Jewish tradition upheld during Yom Kippur[Day of Atonement] to fast on the 10th day of the 10th month 'Tishri'. This was later referenced in the Koran prescribing fasting for the people as it was prescribed for those who came before (the Jewish people). The prophet adapted this fast prescribing to his flock to fast on the 10th day of the lunar calender 'Ashura'. There is also debate about whether the Prophet used to pray facing Jerusalem and that supposedly the concept of Qibla [praying facing Mecca] came about later - 625 AD to be precise - with another revelation. This would require additional study of the Bukhari texts which I have yet to do! The reason I mention this is to highlight that Islam did indeed build upon the previous religions, recognising their strengths, as opposed to creating difference. This came about later of course along with unkept beards and illiterate scholars.

At the time of the prophet not much was honky dory either and Ramadan was awash with battles - today in 625 the Battle of Badr took place between the Prophet's 313 men and the 939 nobility of the Qureish tribe. There was a dispute regarding borders, politics and I am sure women for good measure. In any case, against the 3:1 odds, the Qureish was defeated that day. Back then there were a lot of tribes in the peninsula and with long-sum division of the beobles into tribes comes a lot of dispute. Especially regarding the religio-political practices in the region before Islam, as it is commonly known today, became the norm. Back then people believed in the Lord Sirius (also referenced in the Quran) and prayed to this deity as the overarching power. It was the intention of the prophet with the revelations he received in Mecca to foster monotheism among the cult of the Ka'aba. The changes brought forth by the Prophet did not always sit well with the tribe of the Qureish, who were founders of the cult of Ka'aba. A spiritual group over run with notions of class, politics and achievement. Noteworthy is that the Prophet used to belong to the Meccan Qureish tribe (the Banu Hashim clan), the he was expelled from Mecca and went to Medinah. The Prophet went one step further in angering the Qureish by providing a religion for the nomadic tribes to follow; under Islam the Nomads could still preform their prayers by facing Mecca as opposed to visiting the site to conduct the ritual prayers. This came in handy when he was expelled from Mecca too. Allegiance had become a steadfast element and with every new revelation the rift between the tribes grew culminating in the Battle of Badr in 625. The Prophet died 7 years later and not having left clear enough instructions regarding his religio-political succession the hard work of fostering one Muslim entity crumbled as his closest followers argued as to who would become the first successor. This of course led to the division between Sunni and Shi'ia Muslims. I will tackle this in another post.

Skipping a few centuries to the juicy bit, from 1220 to 1450 the reign of Ghengis Khan and his grandson led to horrendous battles between the Mongolians and the Muslims with the final defeat of the Mongolians taking place in Ramadan. I cannot help but think of South Park here. Somehow the peaceful element of Ramadan was not yet perfected back then and it was only in later decades that Ramadan became the period for the cessation of hostilities.

The word Ramadan itself has multiple roots in the Arabic language - it either denotes the naming of a warm month or is derived from 'ramada' which signifies a scorching cracked ground due to intense heat. Either one it is supposed to be a reminder of the significant effort required to complete this month. Metaphorically one could say it alludes to the notion that this month the Devil is tied up in hell and therefor any wrongdoings are of our own making - i.e. our very own hell on earth if you may. The word sawm/seyyam [fasting] is the Arabic word for "to refrain" which is exactly what's going on this month - a lot of refraining and submission. Together the words reflect the reality of the months for many people undertakin this task in a hot country! To be honest there is very little on the subject of fasting as a concept and how it developed. Whether it developed out of necessity or choice is a riddle.


Sayyam [fasting] is testing and enabling us to develop our willpower, endurance, patience and above all else respect. Respect for our peers, elders, those shunned by society, the sick and of course ourselves. Sayyam is ensuring we gain control over our needs and wants so that in turn we recognise how little control we actually have.