On the fifth day of Ramadan my mother said to me, bring two big bags, don’t pack any clothes and fasting is non-obligatory. Much to the tune of that carol and I am quite sure the pre-packed bag may have contained a partridge in a pear tree. I was on my way to the post-revolutionary motherland. Loaded with 56kg I was in luck that a friend drove me to the airport and low and behold five hours later I woke up to the chirping sound of relieved clapping. Welcome to Egypt.
The only eventful moment during the 5 hours of inflight non-entertainment was when we were served our single-serving bits of an evening meal with as background entertainment the latest movie – The Fugitive. Subtle. Some refrained from accepting the meal on account of fasting and others chose wisely between the two protein offers. I realized me and another girl were sandwiching a fasting man. He decided it was best to pretend to be asleep with his head cocked towards me as I ate. In a single economy space there is not much room for privacy let alone consideration of people’s willingness to fast. I tried to create a curtain out of serviettes until I noticed that the supposedly sleeping man was smiling at my feeble attempts. I gave up and savoured the bland meal happily and as hastily as I could facing the other passenger next to me who was certain I was eyeing her pudding and kept moving it further away. I was in fact eyeing her coffee. I made a vow not to have any coffee this month. Taking the purification of mind and body that little step further. I suppose the issue of fasting whilst traveling is what I am getting at. Indeed if one is traveling fasting is entirely optional and can be made up for at a later stage. Personally on flights of under 10 hours I keep my fast; mostly on account of the fact that I just sleep anyway. That and the motion to refrain from fasting during travel was set down at a time when traveling from one end of the country to the other usually took four days on camel. Mind you one could argue that any flight on Ryanair is the equivalent of four days on a camel – except the camel does not give you lip service and make you pay extra for your bag and toilet use. Basically, if you can fast whilst traveling then don’t bother refraining. Let’s face it, unless you are flying first class on a high end carrier, do you really want to eat plane food? Of course, if you have a long journey ahead with multiple stop-overs, etc. The narration on fasting whilst traveling really is one of the most straightforward: “If you wish fast, if you wish break your fast”. In short, it is left up to your discretion. I will come back to the concept of discretion late on many times as it remains the biggest point of contention and confusion.
As for backpackers, you choose to carry 50kg on your back, take the infested over-night trains to bumblenowhere and sleep in cockroach central hostels only to then cheap out on amazing excursion to sit in cafes slurping imported lattes; whether you fast or not you will get the shits. I would know.
Back to my very comfortable economy class aisle seat and really very smooth landing. Really – I didn’t wake up! Anyhow, there I was gearing up to go out into the evening 35 degrees and grab the bus to the terminal but instead there was a walkway to the terminal! Improvement! Once inside the second surprise – the terminal was clean. And sign posted. I was starting to worry. The passport control also went without hassle. Not even the complimentary 30 minute interrogation about dual citizenship. There must be something! The bags came out in one piece. Incredible! Aha! I could not find a single trolley! Even that was quickly resolved after circumventing the terminal three times. Even as a single traveler going through customs with three massive bags I had no trouble. The customs officer asked me “You traveling alone?” - Yes. “Do you just have clothes in these bags?” – Yes. “So many?” – It is Ramadan. Wink wink.
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| Artist depiction of luggage referenced |
Once outside I was finally hit with that 35 degrees waft of unadulterated evening heat - smack in my face. By the time I crossed the road to meet my pick up I was water. How will I fast in this weather? I smacked myself back to relativity. How do the poor who have no fans or aircons fast in this weather? How do the people who work outside all day manage? I will find out.
Once inside the car I was given the grand tour. And by grand tour I mean the immediate slur of post-revolution banter from both my dad and my neighbour. I should mention that both were talking to me whilst also talking on their phones at the same time. At one point I zoned out after I could no longer follow who they were talking to anymore in the ongoing five-way conversation. All I knew was that at least our ability to multi-task hadn’t changed.
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