D'oh! Where did Day 8 to 29 go?

Dear Readers (quality not quantity...),

Apologies for the missing days 8 to 29. Most of the days are in draft format waiting to be finished, edited and published. Most of my time on the other hand is spent chasing my own tail, locating the family and other commitments. Other commitments? Yes, like moving my folks, babysitting my rabbid niece, trying to negotiate a house sale, moving out my closest comrade, bidding farewell to good friends, trying to get my head around adjuvant reagents, attending to my voluntary work, sorting out health issues, fulfilling the annual charity quota, catching rogue rats, getting more anti-Africa vaccinations, remembering to change my bed sheets and actually being present and competent at my day job.Oh and fasting too. Somehow inbetween I just was not able to get round to this blog. This leaves me with a nagging bitter after taste in my mouth that I did not manage to succesfully complete Ramadan this year. And so come tomorrow when Ramadan ends, for me it shall start again... from Day 8..

Sincere apologies for the shortcoming. And any mortgage advice is welcome. Or clean sheets.

Best and blessings (of the utmost non-denominational kind),

LaH

Day 7 - Welcome Taxes

Days like today remind me of the true meaning of Ramadan and the importance of being earnest. Me and my cousin spent the evening before sorting through mounds of clothes and goods donated by friends and family to distribute them into industry sized plastic bags for consignment along the Tour du Za’kah!

If I am to take away one thing and one thing only from my upbringing it would be the lesson learned about the importance of zak’ah. Donating to charity. I am eternally grateful to my parents for annually ensuring that this pillar is fulfilled in its entirety. The concept is simple and straightforward – you shall give 2.5% of your annual income to charity. How, when, what is entirely left up to your discretion. Again we return to the “up to your discretion”. For example, if you are a student you can still fulfill this condition by dedicating your time volunteering at a charity, fund-raising or even starting your own. If you are incapacitated you can entrust someone on your behalf. If you have a low income then you can also contribute in kind – time, goods, expertise, etc.  The options are as limitless as they are boundless. Simply put, do “good” to a relative proportion of your income and time vis-à-vis a charitable cause. This does not necessarily have to constitute a registered NGO or institute. You may find that one of your family members or friends is enduring hardship; helping them is also a means of zak’ah. One that in no way should be perceived by the recipient as sympathy; let’s be frank, zak’ah is as much for the recipient as it is for the benefactor. Philanthropy is what it has become on account of the dwindling number of people who follow up on this important duty.

The only family tradition I have ever really known is the one of giving za'kah. Tirelessly my parents would take on this responsibility every Ramadan to go round the different charitable institutions they knew or had heard of from friends and relatives to survey them and donate as they saw fit. In this way they built their own database of the different institutions across greater Cairo. Every year they would either add elements or vary them depending on the situation. For example, several times it was possible with the magnanimous help of a team of top cardio surgeons to provide heart surgeries pro bono to several cases they heard of that were rejected surgery by hospitals on account of cost. Over the years and with age, we (the offspring...) also became more and more involved and with every incoming independent pay check we grew more aware of our responsibilities and the importance of giving back. Call it a welcome taxation if you will. One where you are in full control of its disbursement.

List of  regular requirements

The first stop along our annual Tour du Za'kah began at Resala – one of the biggest and fastest growing charitable organisations in Egypt. It was started by university lecturer Dr Sherif Abdel Azim in 2003 (exact date not known) and now counts over 7 branches in Cairo and 32 in the whole of Egypt. The organisation is dependent on private donations and  the LE 10 monthly subscription from each one of its strong base of volunteers. The organisation is as traditional as it is innovative offering aid in the form of services, finance and educational training. It supports low-income families, orphanages, special needs centres and elderly homes. It does not donate goods but instead sells second-hand goods at much discounted prices at their branches and during organised markets. It does not merely support orphanages but links orphans with volunteer big brothers/sisters. It also works with medical students to provide free clinics, vaccinations and check-ups. If you may, Resala is the welfare state never realised by the government. For quite a few years now they have been on our za’kah route and rightfully so. They not only empower the marginalised but also the youth who dedicate their time and energy in ensuring a charity that started with one store in 2003 can become a network of charities by 2011. The youths of Egypt can be proud of this achievement.

 Most orphanages need a steady flow of rice, macaroni, oil, tomato sauce, milk, chicken, toiletpaper, etc. Exactly the items to be found at wholesale cash’n’carry markets of Cairo just in time for the next etappe. That is if you can navigate your way through the bends and find what you are looking for. Here’s how we fared:

Okay.. so we didn't buy ALL those boxes but we came close!

...and some more!

Gam'yet Hasanat el Ghayreya (permission to post granted)

The next etappe of the Tour du Za’kah took us to a local orphanage started by a couple who worked closely with social services (in the widest most unregulated sense of the word) and realised case after case the dire need for orphanages. Over the years they set-up three orphanages; a mixed house for children up to six years of age and two separate single-sex homes for children from six to twelve. We visited the mixed house that hosts 28 orphans comfortably and usually more given the cases they receive. The “social workers” have mapped the problem areas of Cairo and the surrounding strates and do monthly rounds. Some of those rounds entail collecting orphans from impoverished families, single mothers, relatives of deceased parents, etc. Every case is different and some stories belong to the annals of the macabre. The support provided by this orphanage is two-fold. Not only do the children receive shelter and education but they also receive timed therapy prepares the child and ensures they know their backgrounds.    

For every child a memoire is made of their time there

Round three was towards Sondos. An orphanage for special needs children. Such orphanages are rare in Cairo let alone Egypt. They often have special arrangements with the nearby hospitals for volunteer doctors to tend to the needs of the children. Especially to afford them with physiotherapy and prosthetics should the need arise. However, such orphanages are also the ones often neglected on account of the ever persistent stigma surrounding special needs children. Somehow only pretty children are worth feeding. A harsh statement maybe? We both know its true. The orphanage counts 68 children spread over 3 floors and 8 dorms. Each dorm counts 6 beds. The math never adds up when it comes to orphanages so it is important the donation is relative to the constraint. Here especially we donated items such as clothes, diapers and waterproof bedding. These items are expensive to come by in Eygpt and any such donations are always welcome.

The boys at Sondos - still smiling though I interrupted their favourite TV show!

In order to streamline the efforts of the 900 plus charitable organisations in Egypt and strategically link up volunteers, three IT-graduates started Kherna(our goodness/good will). An online platform for both NGOs and volunteers to find each other and even create working schedules. The students behind Kherna were frustrated at the lengths they had to go to find community outreach projects, institutions and charities to volunteer their time and energy. Kherna may be nothing new in the western hemisphere but a great advancement for Egypt where even the most advanced navigation system is likely to get lost if not breakdown out of equal frustration. Some of the worthiest charities are completely off the map and are often hidden in dire locations. So you can safely assume they would not have a facebook page. As the revolution has shown, the youth of Egypt are quite the avid fans of social networking so an online crowd-sourcing developmental platform such as Kherna is that final nudge to stimulate youth to take all that post-revolution hope and enthusiasm and put it back into their communities.

In between our etappes we still hand out envelopes of money to those along the way we find in need – be they traffic wardens, security guards, an elderly woman selling tissues and clearly not belonging to an organized mob…, a parking attendant, etc. Anyone who has yet to enjoy the newly instated minimum wage! I remember over ten years ago we used to hand out batik cloths for people to take to a local tailor and make clothes. The back of the car was stuffed to the brim with rolls of cloths in all colours and styles – it almost looked liked we had robbed Joseph of his techni-colour coat. Back then it was cheaper to make clothes then buy them. However, with the increasing gas and electra prices, dwindling interest in manual vocations and the mass imports from China, tailors are only visited in case of alterations and special occasions. Even your za’kah has to adapt to change and the new needs of your recipients. But no, smartphones are not next on the list.

But yes, at times it does feel like a conveyer belt , visiting so many charitable institutions you can no longer keep them apart and for a split-second they do blend into one massive pot of never-ending need. All you hear is the shortfall and all you feel is your own shortcoming in bridging their gaps. The trick here is to remember why you are giving za’kah. At the special needs orphanage Sondos, I went and visited the children in their dorms and had a small chat with as many of them as I could. I also spoke to the caregivers, the cooks, the guards, etc. I just wanted to know more of the children and more about those people who dedicate their time and effort so wieldy to those most in need. That simple sense of humanity is an instant reminder that there is nothing monotonous about za’kah and that every donation, every etappe, every envelope passed through the car window, every bag of rice carried over one’s shoulder has a rightful destination and we, as proponents of za’kah, are the worthy road for their journey. If you ask me, that’s reason enough to keep giving.

Day 6 - My Little License Plate

So here I am in post-revolution Cairo having already gotten quite the impression without even having left the confines of my home. The garbage tip in front of our apartment building remains. The mosques are still keeping timely prayers. The street vendors are still abound at 2am. The only massive difference I have seen so far is that my neighbour has gone from selling kittens to selling handbag dogs. I suppose I found this to be quite disturbing. What has really changed?

During Ramadan, Egypt has a tendency to hike up the food prices instead of start a wide scale sale and allow people of all walks of life to afford basic sustenance. This year Egypt has no choice in the matter and prices have increased on account of limited agro-production and increased reliance on food imports. I kept asking about the prices of different basic goods until the shop owners and my neighbours suspected me of hunger as opposed to curiosity. From last year Ramadan the prices of basic foods have seen an increase of at least 10% all round. A kilo of meat went from being between LE 40 and 60 to now ranging from LE 70 to120 - all in the span of 11 months. There are butchers who offer a meat variable for LE 25 per kilo – however, these are generally meat by products and rather inedible even by the lowest standards. In addition, the minimum wage in Egypt has gone down post-revolution from LE 700 to LE 684. A lot of people working in the tourism industry were laid off and across the board mass unemployment ensued the revolution. In previous years Egypt was the one exporting cotton, fruit and vegetables; however, now it is importing wheat from Russia, cotton from the US and dried/canned foods from China and Brazil. To make matters worse specific food-testing labs in the ports in Egypt were recently closed down by the SCAF on account of high maintenance costs. Increased food imports coupled with minimum pre-release safety testing leave the country somewhat open to importing not just food but also new bacteria and virus that the current public health surveillance and relief systems would not be able to handle.

However, this could either become a short-term or long-term problem depending on how the political situation unfolds. This of course goes hand in hand with the uprooting of corruption. The complete eradication of corruption in Egypt is somewhat similar to the eradication of disease. It takes time, persistence, funds and the tiresome seemingly endless siphoning of old blood. Example - the former government has marginalized cotton growers to the point where only a handful of the once abundant cotton farms remain. They were continuously underpaid whilst government officials creamed the crops for the government to export the produce at prices that have made Egyptian Cotton a sought after luxury abroad. Now it has become a rarity to find decent cotton worthy of selling locally. The continuous marginalisation of farmers, lack of subsidies and increased cost of fertiliser have pushed the agricultural sector to react by closing down or finding unorthodox means to survive. Think midnight fertiliser and selling rocks for apples. And feeding your cattle? I don’t even want to know.

So there you have it, a reduced minimum wage and a large majority unemployed living on the USD 1 per day quota. The middle class have tightened their purse strings and the upper echelons of Egyptian society still have their yachts, except now they are moored along the red sea coast until further notice (or release from prison). Is Egypt a poor country? Far from. Egypt suffers from the African problem. A lot of potential and too much corruption. Post-revolution a viable clean entrepreneur can become a yacht owner over a decent amount of time now that the there are buxom gaps in the market waiting to be filled. Especially during Ramadan with the increased collateral spending. If I were only half an entrepreneur I would primarily re-instate the safety testing labs in the main ports and subsequently plug the gaps in mass food and fertiliser imports. In turn, with the profit from that, I would round up the farmers into co-operatives and offer them compounded subsidies by means of interest free macro-credit loans. Interest free you say? Yes, their yield can be bought at fair trade prices with the majority exported and select portion sold locally at affordable rates until the fine balance of supply and demand can be locally met whereby food imports can be scaled back again. Of course, I am not an entrepreneur and rather economically challenged. Not what Egypt needs.

Egypt needs trust. They need to trust their new political system. They need to know that their government will not squander LE 92 million in public funds by granting the license plate contract to a foreign company through direct order at above market prices, in violation of the tenders and auctions law they themselves set. They need to know they will receive a pension after their 67 years of service to the public. They need to know they will no longer have to fork out endless amounts on private lessons because the teachers in public schools are too disillusioned with their wage packages to teach during school hours. They need to know their hospitals can cater to their needs without having to embark on endless charity runs. They need to trust they can live and let live.

Who out there is brave enough to take on this level of responsibility and accountability?  

 

Day 5 - Camels and Carry-on

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.

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.

Day 1 to 4 – The Meta-Beginning

Unlike last year when the beginning was hinged, pegged and controlled; this year it was simply vexed. Vexed by the unflattering inability to fast on account of that monthly ritual of seemingly endless sanguin. Of course this begs the question – what is fasting?

Is it the lack of eating that constitutes the primary indicator? If so, does that mean that all those incapable of fasting for whatever reason are not achieving the objective of Ramadan? I say no. Having fasted since the age of six I can assure you that eventhough I may have been abstaining from food and drink I was completely and utterly off target regarding the objectives of Ramadan. It’s one thing to withhold from eating, it is an entirely different battle to abstain from the endless tyranny of our thoughts. And that is the crux of the matter, that is the real KPI if you may, of your measured success for Ramadan. The mental fast.

We are all slaves to the endless slur of thoughts that often manifest as an endless downpour in our minds. Somehow whilst praying I always remember what I had forgotten moments earlier, the location of my keys and somehow the answer to life as well. And just as I remember it, as soon as I finish my prayers and rush to grab a pen it flutters away like the non-existent summer breeze in the Underground. There you have it, you wasted a prayer interrupted by a thought not to be had. It is like thinking up your shopping list whilst meditating. Superbly useless. But these are petty things. During Ramadan the challenge is enhanced by the situations we find ourselves in; refraining from the homicidal thoughts vis-à-vis ...everyone, avoiding that one individual you know will provoke biting cynicism bordering on a personal attack, trying not to hurl a barrage of crude insults at the missed bus, the arrogant waiter, the inept driver, the insolent child, that one colleague, the spill-prone cleaner, etc. The list of ridiculously treacherous  - to one’s mental fast – situations are just infinite. Coupled with food deprivation, excessive humidity-defying heat and that temper I am not sure anyone has ever really fasted.

Whilst fasting I have personally wanted to defecate in the shoes of many a bus driver multiple times whenever they did not stop for me. And I consider myself quite the mild mannered individual. Imagine someone with actual road rage! All play aside, the first four days of Ramadan this year were difficult – I was not able to filter or censor a single thought and once or twice (or ten times) I even said what I thought directly. I was certainly not achieving a single objective of Ramadan. The following days I hope will be an improvement.

During Ramadan the intention is to curb all such thoughts – in fact the idea is to try and minimise thought and control our regular patterns. Funnel them if you may into succinct ideas about our position in this world. How relatively lucky, capable and grateful we are – rather should be. I did not do any of that in the first four days of Ramadan. Overtaken by work, family and social commitments I had little time to think let alone consider restraining from thought. Then again this blog is not a confessional. Thank goodness for that. This blog is about Ramadan and everything it means to us. I use us, because it is only through my interactions with others that I come to realize the importance of this month. It is not merely about my connection to my faith alone but how this is then translated to those around me.

The idea about the juxtaposition of mental and physical fast came about through a conversation I had with my sister. Day two of Ramadan and I am still not fasting and she is. However, whereas I am refraining from any thoughts. She isn’t. So who is fasting? Both of us. Modesty in thought then translates into our behaviour, speech and appearance. As my cousin recently complimented my appearance: “you are not even worth wasting a sin on!” What’s that I hear? Ah yes, the fleeting ego I once had racing past me at ludicrous speed. Luckily this month is also about our humility towards others. I did not hit my cousin. 

So there you have it, the first four days got off on a rocky start but the good intentions are there, the mental fast is in order and hopefully the remaining 26 days will prove worthier. And tomorrow we shall see what the motherland brings. Inshallah.

T-minus 3: The Prep-work or complete lack of..

In exactly one weekend, 3 debaucherous days, 72 senseless hours it will be Ramadan.What more can I possibly have to say that I did not say last year? Ramadan 2011 will be across continents - the difference between fasting summer time in rain-drenched Holland and hot and dry Cairo - currently withholding the logical daylight savings to make Ramadan that much easier. How will Ramadan affect the Arab Spring? How is the situation on the ground in terms of the most side-lined groups? How is my mother's kitchen doing? What possible tv-shows will be on this year to lull me to sleep? Basically enough to be getting on with for a month. For now, right now, its time to get a few things out of my system and get ready for the annual ride.

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.