So I only lasted a day.
It was 11:00 PM when I was getting ready for bed after the first day of fasting, and I was filling up my water bottle. For those who don't know, Turkey is one of those places where it's probably best to purchase your water instead of drinking the tap water.
The tap water, technically, is okay to consume; I've had it on a few occasions. I don't know if I was being delusional, but it seemed to me that it gave me a floating feeling. It didn't taste strange, but the experience was enough to give me concern.
Most homes, stores, schools, etc. have water coolers. Similarly, Jena and I order those huge blue jugs of water, but we don't have a cooler. We have this hand-pump that you use to get the water out.
In our apartment we have a supply of three of blue water jugs at a time. When they run out we go down to the door man of our building and ask him, in Turkish, to order three more for us. The conversation is a little complicated, but by now we do alright with it. We have to say that we want three of the water bottles from a specific company. Then, if we're not going to be home for the delivery, we have to use some slightly difficult grammar involving Turkish postpositions (as opposed to prepositions) to explain that we have left the bottles outside our apartment door. Finally, we hand over the money. If there's change, which there usually is, sometimes the door man gives it to us when we come home, and sometimes it's left on the top of one of the bottles in front of our door.
Multi-step little process.
So I was pumping water into my water bottle, preparing to over-hydrate in preparation for the next day when the pump began making its sputtering noise, indicating that we were running out of water. We were on our third and final bottle.
At this point my options became limited. I could try to buy some water, but all the near by stores close around ten. I could drink the tap water, which I didn't want to do because I'd be drinking it in mass quantities. I could boil up some teapots full of tap water, but this seemed like a pain in the ass process. Or, I could go without water for twenty hours.
I didn't like any of these options.
In the morning, at 8:00 AM, three hours after the sunrise, I made tea with tap water, and I ate granola and yogurt.
In addition to the water barrier, I had realized on the previous day that it sort of miserable being a zombie in the afternoon. We got off work at 3:00 PM, and the best I could do was a minimal walk for my exercise, unless I wanted to exercise after 8:30 PM when I had hydrated and eaten. This seemed problematic. To some extent, it feels like a gift to be a non-fasting foreigner during Ramazan here in Turkey because you're one of the few people who isn't suffering through your afternoons. You have vivaciousness amid a cloudy-headed, slow moving populace.
Even my office, which the administration officially calls the "Leavers' Office," is full of life. There are six occupants, and they're all from the US except for one Brit. It's the only office having any fun during these days at work when there's nothing to do. I want to be able to play chess and have ridiculous conversations with my friends in the afternoon. I don't want to be lazing around, just for the sake of gratifying myself and my willpower.
Another way to look at it is this: it feels pretty empty to fast without a strong justification.
Aside from all this, as I've mentioned, I really hate the abstaining from water thing. Really hate it. It's so unhealthy. It makes me want to give fasting another shot, possibly tomorrow (which will be Monday) whereupon I only drink water. I'm not entirely sure what the point would be except to serve as a counter-experience to my experience last Thursday.
I've heard that one of the reasons that Muslims fast during Ramazan is to empathize with those who are less fortunate. Here, I can see how abstaining from water, in addition to food, is a critical point, especially in places where tap water is potentially unsafe and therefore commodified. Abstaining from water and food does give you a window into the psychological and physiological effects that could be occurring within someone without these resources.
What I don't really get, however, is the tradition of breaking your fast each night with a big celebration--a big meal, loads of cigarettes, etc. You can even go to downtown Kayseri where there are concerts and a road set up called Ramazan Sokağı (Ramazan Road). On the road are all these vendor booths where you can buy snacks, books, and arts and crafts.
It seems contrary to the purpose of empathizing with the poor when you end your difficult day with a night of varying degrees of excess.
On the other hand, I will say that there are many efforts within Muslim society to help those who are less fortunate. For example, it's not uncommon for one of our administrators to send out an email telling us about how one of the workers at Meliksah (usually one of the cleaning staff) can't afford a medical operation for his/her child. Therefore, if we could all donate a little money, maybe we could help the family out.
(As a side note, these emails are a bit hilarious because the administrators don't have a great command over diction-related register variation. For instance, the subject line of the emails usually read "Donations for a Sick Kid." This phrase "sick kid" is then used throughout the body of the email.)
In addition to these causes, our administration also takes Ramazan and the other bayramlar (holidays) as opportunities to fundraise for the poor. During Ramazan our administration has organized a donation fund to help poor families afford iftar (breaking of the fast) dinners. During Kurban Bayramı (Sacrifice Holiday) the administration organized a similar fundraiser as well.
I realize that efforts like these occur in the US as well, but from my personal view, I have seen more of these fundraisers aimed at helping the greater good here in Turkey's Muslim society.
As I've mentioned before Ramazan, like Christmas, is a bizarre mix of religion and concern for others in addition to indulgence. As someone who has no special feelings about the holiday, except for my difficult experiences teaching during Ramadan in the US where certain students used the holiday as an excuse for increased laziness and hostility (which as I understand goes against some of the main goals of the holiday) I think that my observation of Ramazan is almost over.
I may try to go a day with only water, just to see how it compares. It's also possible that Jena and I will travel to our friend Özge's hometown for the end of month feast. I'm curious to see how that plays out in a domestic setting. Last year during the final days of celebration Jena and I were only privy to the loads of teenagers in İzmir who spent their time at the amusement park where we exercised.
We'll see how it all plays out. For now, to all those who celebrate the holiday with sincerity and respect for the larger goals of the holiday, best of luck. İyi Ramazanlar (Good Ramazans).
Sunday, June 21, 2015
Thursday, June 18, 2015
Ramazan Log Moondate June 18th, 2015 5:25 PM
I am damn thirsty.
I typically drink gallons of water during the day--at least one, probably around two or three. I can't tell you how many times today I've thought, "I'm thirsty. Where's my water bottle? Oh wait--"
So I'm almost there. Less than three hours to go. This afternoon Jena and I drove to the foothills to go for a walk. I just wanted to stay active because otherwise I'd sit around an moan about how empty and dried up I feel. Luckily for Jena, I have mostly done this complaining in my head throughout the day.
The good news is that the headaches weren't too bad today. I had one before lunch, but it faded. Can you imagine the pain of all those Turks who are addicted to black tea and cigarettes. Ugh. I have it easy compared to them.
I will say that the one thing that disturbs me about this fasting business is the lack of water. It's just not healthy. As someone who always wants to by optimally hydrated, I almost always monitor the color of my urine to ensure that it is somewhere between straw-colored and clear throughout the day. If it's not, then it's time to down some water. Today to my dismay, during my three visits to the restroom, it irks me to see my urine becoming yellower and yellower.
I've always thought that Gandhi's style of fasting seemed more appealing, the way he was allowed lemon water. (I think that was the case. I saw the Ben Kingsley Gandhi movie so long ago.)
While Jena and I were on our walk this afternoon, I found myself thinking about how fasting for the sake of exercising one's willpower is a particularly empty endeavor. From there, I began to wonder why people around me are actually doing it. I'll try to provide some information here.
Hurriyet Daily News, a Turkish news company, states, "Fasting, held from sunrise to sunset during Ramadan, is one of the Five Pillars (fundamental religious duties) of Islam. It is a time of self-examination and increased religious devotion. Ramadan is also a time of increased religious observance and socializing, with families sharing rich meals after sunset, followed by gatherings with friends or neighbors" (http://www.hurriyetdailynews.com/muslims-holy-month-of-ramadan-to-start-tomorrow.aspx?pageID=238&nID=84087&NewsCatID=393).
What I find interesting about Ramazan is the balance between reverence for one's religion and the sort of exploitation of the month that occurs during the night. I think it's fair to say that Christmas has been overwhelmed by the exploitation of the celebration, but Ramadan seems to be more of a balanced religious holiday. (If you're curious about the night time exploitation I'm referring to, check out the pictures in the news article.)
In a sense, the highly sacred time, the daytime, is downplayed to an extent. Sure you are expected to fast during the day, but at a workplace like ours, you don't need to get yourself there until 10:00 AM. At work, there's almost nothing to do, and based on our observations when driving through town today the people who are doing the most amount of work are the grocery store clerks as they sell groceries for those who are preparing for the iftar (the breaking of the fast meal) tonight.
We only have to work until 3:00 PM, and by piecing together some information from students and coworkers, often the evening hours are passed by sleeping. All things considered, the potential number of waking hours of fasting becomes rather short.
That said, I'm sure there are some people who have grueling experiences. Not everyone is so lucky to have a five hour workday. But things do seem to slow down in society--fewer people are out, fewer customers--so conceivably there's less work to be done.
But then the iftar occurs. If I remember correctly it's proceeded by a few long prayers blared out from the minarets. (One might take issue with my use of "blared," but damn, it really is blared. It's loud, of course, but beyond that they use these bullhorn speakers to amplify the calls to prayer. And the bullhorns destroy the sound quality. It's like hearing a song sung through a paper-towel tube. Possibly in the future when Turkey has emerged from its developing country stage, better sound systems will be installed.)
So the iftar itself is the big family and friend feast that occur every night for a month. I'm sure it's a blast, and from what I have seen, no expense is spared for the meals. Additionally, everyone's finally free to light up those cigarettes and down those cups of tea. Without any real knowledge of statistics, it seems like a fair amount of people party until 2:00 AM when it's time to say your last prayer, eat your last meal, and go to sleep. However, some people go to sleep at their usual times and simply get up in the middle of the night for the prayer and meal.
My point in describing all this is that I think it's important to equivocate the religious sanctity of a holiday when it seems to be evolving into another creature entirely. And that creature is not necessarily bad. Again, think of Christmas. Has it become a ridiculously materialistic holiday nearly devoid of any shred of religion? Yes. Yet, it is still a time to come together as a family and to act in a generous manner through the gesture of gifts.
So when I look at the article explaining the religious importance of Ramazan, I hear myself saying, "Give me a break. Look at what the month really is--a time to sleep in, build up an appetite, and party all night long." However, those thoughts need to be checked by the positive aspects that the religious-side of the month can offer people (spiritually and psychologically) and the positive aspects that the party-side of the month can offer (in terms of familial and relational bonding).
There are probably a number of good reasons to celebrate Ramazan, just as I believe that Christmas is still worth my time. And I don't know why I'm speaking of the religious side of Christmas as if it has significance to me. It doesn't really. But it does serve as the foundation of the holiday, and that foundation has slipped away. Holiday evolution, I suppose. I wonder if you can trace religious holidays over time and see them evolve through specific stages until they reach some sort of end to their existence. That would be an interesting article to read.
In any case, I've killed about an hour writing this. This fasting does take will power. If I were interested in connecting the fasting to spirituality, I can see how I might be more inclined to remember a deity throughout the day every time my stomach grumbles. But as it stands, I just think, "Alan, this is crazy and miserable, but you can do it." At 8:05 I'll see if the rewards justify the task. PARTY!!! No, really, I'm probably going to drink some water and have a beer on an empty stomach. Then I'll eat some dinner and go to bed at a reasonable time.
I typically drink gallons of water during the day--at least one, probably around two or three. I can't tell you how many times today I've thought, "I'm thirsty. Where's my water bottle? Oh wait--"
So I'm almost there. Less than three hours to go. This afternoon Jena and I drove to the foothills to go for a walk. I just wanted to stay active because otherwise I'd sit around an moan about how empty and dried up I feel. Luckily for Jena, I have mostly done this complaining in my head throughout the day.
The good news is that the headaches weren't too bad today. I had one before lunch, but it faded. Can you imagine the pain of all those Turks who are addicted to black tea and cigarettes. Ugh. I have it easy compared to them.
I will say that the one thing that disturbs me about this fasting business is the lack of water. It's just not healthy. As someone who always wants to by optimally hydrated, I almost always monitor the color of my urine to ensure that it is somewhere between straw-colored and clear throughout the day. If it's not, then it's time to down some water. Today to my dismay, during my three visits to the restroom, it irks me to see my urine becoming yellower and yellower.
I've always thought that Gandhi's style of fasting seemed more appealing, the way he was allowed lemon water. (I think that was the case. I saw the Ben Kingsley Gandhi movie so long ago.)
While Jena and I were on our walk this afternoon, I found myself thinking about how fasting for the sake of exercising one's willpower is a particularly empty endeavor. From there, I began to wonder why people around me are actually doing it. I'll try to provide some information here.
Hurriyet Daily News, a Turkish news company, states, "Fasting, held from sunrise to sunset during Ramadan, is one of the Five Pillars (fundamental religious duties) of Islam. It is a time of self-examination and increased religious devotion. Ramadan is also a time of increased religious observance and socializing, with families sharing rich meals after sunset, followed by gatherings with friends or neighbors" (http://www.hurriyetdailynews.com/muslims-holy-month-of-ramadan-to-start-tomorrow.aspx?pageID=238&nID=84087&NewsCatID=393).
What I find interesting about Ramazan is the balance between reverence for one's religion and the sort of exploitation of the month that occurs during the night. I think it's fair to say that Christmas has been overwhelmed by the exploitation of the celebration, but Ramadan seems to be more of a balanced religious holiday. (If you're curious about the night time exploitation I'm referring to, check out the pictures in the news article.)
In a sense, the highly sacred time, the daytime, is downplayed to an extent. Sure you are expected to fast during the day, but at a workplace like ours, you don't need to get yourself there until 10:00 AM. At work, there's almost nothing to do, and based on our observations when driving through town today the people who are doing the most amount of work are the grocery store clerks as they sell groceries for those who are preparing for the iftar (the breaking of the fast meal) tonight.
We only have to work until 3:00 PM, and by piecing together some information from students and coworkers, often the evening hours are passed by sleeping. All things considered, the potential number of waking hours of fasting becomes rather short.
That said, I'm sure there are some people who have grueling experiences. Not everyone is so lucky to have a five hour workday. But things do seem to slow down in society--fewer people are out, fewer customers--so conceivably there's less work to be done.
But then the iftar occurs. If I remember correctly it's proceeded by a few long prayers blared out from the minarets. (One might take issue with my use of "blared," but damn, it really is blared. It's loud, of course, but beyond that they use these bullhorn speakers to amplify the calls to prayer. And the bullhorns destroy the sound quality. It's like hearing a song sung through a paper-towel tube. Possibly in the future when Turkey has emerged from its developing country stage, better sound systems will be installed.)
So the iftar itself is the big family and friend feast that occur every night for a month. I'm sure it's a blast, and from what I have seen, no expense is spared for the meals. Additionally, everyone's finally free to light up those cigarettes and down those cups of tea. Without any real knowledge of statistics, it seems like a fair amount of people party until 2:00 AM when it's time to say your last prayer, eat your last meal, and go to sleep. However, some people go to sleep at their usual times and simply get up in the middle of the night for the prayer and meal.
My point in describing all this is that I think it's important to equivocate the religious sanctity of a holiday when it seems to be evolving into another creature entirely. And that creature is not necessarily bad. Again, think of Christmas. Has it become a ridiculously materialistic holiday nearly devoid of any shred of religion? Yes. Yet, it is still a time to come together as a family and to act in a generous manner through the gesture of gifts.
So when I look at the article explaining the religious importance of Ramazan, I hear myself saying, "Give me a break. Look at what the month really is--a time to sleep in, build up an appetite, and party all night long." However, those thoughts need to be checked by the positive aspects that the religious-side of the month can offer people (spiritually and psychologically) and the positive aspects that the party-side of the month can offer (in terms of familial and relational bonding).
There are probably a number of good reasons to celebrate Ramazan, just as I believe that Christmas is still worth my time. And I don't know why I'm speaking of the religious side of Christmas as if it has significance to me. It doesn't really. But it does serve as the foundation of the holiday, and that foundation has slipped away. Holiday evolution, I suppose. I wonder if you can trace religious holidays over time and see them evolve through specific stages until they reach some sort of end to their existence. That would be an interesting article to read.
In any case, I've killed about an hour writing this. This fasting does take will power. If I were interested in connecting the fasting to spirituality, I can see how I might be more inclined to remember a deity throughout the day every time my stomach grumbles. But as it stands, I just think, "Alan, this is crazy and miserable, but you can do it." At 8:05 I'll see if the rewards justify the task. PARTY!!! No, really, I'm probably going to drink some water and have a beer on an empty stomach. Then I'll eat some dinner and go to bed at a reasonable time.
Ramazan Log Moondate June 18th, 2015 9:45-11 AM
The drums woke me up at 2:30 in the morning. I drank a lot of water. To be on the safe side I set an alarm for 5:00 AM, which is 12 minutes before the sunrise. I drank water then as well.
Although our working hours have changed to 10:00 to 3:00 during Ramazan, I still got up at seven. In the vacant lot eleven floors below my window I saw a pack of five dogs resting. Quickly I dressed and went down to see whether I could pet them.
When I approached, I avoided eye contact and crouched down so as to make myself less intimidating. Typically this body language works with dogs in the US. However, Turkish dogs seem to view these movements in a more negative light as if one is reaching for a stone to throw at them. Thus, the dog pack scattered. My bad. They galloped up the side walk, and looked both ways as they crossed a busy intersection. (It's true that the dogs here in Turkey actually have street smarts. And it's good that they do, I actually saw a vehicle swerve as if it were intending to hit them.)
I followed the pack for a while, reading my Kindle as I walked. One of the dogs lingered behind, but he didn't hold still long enough for me to pet him.
It is now 11:00, and Jena and I are at work. I'm definitely hungry, and seeing others (Jena included) drink coffee and water is making my stomach pangs more acute. This morning we had a quick meeting with our boss, and I asked him about the phrase to use during this time of year. He said either İyi Ramazanlar or Ramazanınız mübarek olsun. Since the latter means may your Ramazan be blessed, I'll sign off with the other one, İyi Ramazanlar--literally, Good Ramazans.
Although our working hours have changed to 10:00 to 3:00 during Ramazan, I still got up at seven. In the vacant lot eleven floors below my window I saw a pack of five dogs resting. Quickly I dressed and went down to see whether I could pet them.
When I approached, I avoided eye contact and crouched down so as to make myself less intimidating. Typically this body language works with dogs in the US. However, Turkish dogs seem to view these movements in a more negative light as if one is reaching for a stone to throw at them. Thus, the dog pack scattered. My bad. They galloped up the side walk, and looked both ways as they crossed a busy intersection. (It's true that the dogs here in Turkey actually have street smarts. And it's good that they do, I actually saw a vehicle swerve as if it were intending to hit them.)
I followed the pack for a while, reading my Kindle as I walked. One of the dogs lingered behind, but he didn't hold still long enough for me to pet him.
It is now 11:00, and Jena and I are at work. I'm definitely hungry, and seeing others (Jena included) drink coffee and water is making my stomach pangs more acute. This morning we had a quick meeting with our boss, and I asked him about the phrase to use during this time of year. He said either İyi Ramazanlar or Ramazanınız mübarek olsun. Since the latter means may your Ramazan be blessed, I'll sign off with the other one, İyi Ramazanlar--literally, Good Ramazans.
Wednesday, June 17, 2015
Ramazan Log Moondate June 17th, 2015
It's been a long time since I've written anything here. I just looked through my posts and saw that I have at least two posts from the past six months that never made it to the publication stage.
To briefly explain my tacitness, I want to refer back to something I wrote in a blog post last fall or so: No news here is not necessarily good news. Over the past six months I have developed a dislike for certain aspects of life here in Turkey, and each time I've considered blogging I've realized that I don't want to publish my growing frustrations. Sometimes it's tough to cut through that layer of emotion.
This change of attitude of mine coincided with Jena and my decision to leave Turkey for the next academic year. In a sense, suspending my disbelief that we could make a pleasant life for ourselves professionally and personally here became too difficult.
In any case, at the moment, here on this summer night, things are looking a bit brighter for us. We're working on getting jobs lined up in Thailand next year. We think that the culture, geography, and attitudes toward education will be better suited to us.
As far as work is concerned, Jena and I basically have had nothing to do at work since the end of May; yet, we're still required to be there to earn our keep. It's really quite bizarre. In our time we have chatted a lot with our friends; we have volunteered to help a committee with one of its projects; we have taught a short summer school class for local high school students; and I, in particular, have done such notable things as fixing a dart board in the teachers' lounge and playing games of backgammon and chess with my friend Paul. It's a wild ride, I'll tell you what.
The good news is that this free time also gives me some spare energy which I'd like to use to get back into blogging. And I believe I have the inspiration as it happens to be the eve of Ramazan (yes, they spell it with a z here). Over the next thirty days, it is my intention to fast along with the Turks. Not because of any interest in the religious aspects of Islam, but simply to see whether my will-power can get me through it.
For those who don't know, the general gist of Ramazan is that it's a month during which Muslims are not supposed to consume anything while the sun is up each day. During the night, however, water, food, smoking, and sex (I think) are all fair game. There are a handful of reasons for this practice, but I have very little technical knowledge of them; besides, these reasons are not my focus. I just want to know whether I can do it. C'mon, no water during the summer for 14 hours and 53 minutes each day. That's crazy, right?
I did fast for one day in Ramazan-style in Flagstaff a little over a year ago. I thought the experience would be interesting, and it was. The thirst didn't get to me--it was the hunger. So, while my aspirations this year are a bit more grandiose, if I make through two days, I'll be on to a personal record.
To contextualize Ramazan a bit here, we've already heard the call to prayer at some irregular times this evening, and the calls have been longer and have been sung on a lower musical scale than usual. (To me this scale variation is a welcome surprise since many of the calls to prayer sound very strained when sung.) Additionally, Jena and I took a walk tonight around the local neighborhood. Maybe it was just us, but we sensed a collective feeling of anticipation. People were out, walking places with a sense of purpose. I saw at least one guy hurrying home with a large bag of Ramazan bread, which I think holds some significance during the month.
This coming morning at some hour Jena and I will probably wake to the banging of pots and pans-- and drums if they have them--which will wake everyone for the call to prayer and one last meal (usually soup) before sunrise. I vaguely remember reading that this takes place at around two or three AM. If I happen to wake up, I'll probably pound some water and get back into bed.
I guess you could interpret my actions as sacrilege (which is why I haven't told any Muslims that I'm doing this), but I'm curious to see how it goes. At the least I hope to develop some compassion for my Muslim coworkers during this time of abstinence. My hope is that I'll update this blog throughout the experience. Hopefully it won't degrade into sentences saying only "I'm hungry. I'm really damn hungry."
Let this experience be known as Alan's Ramazan 2015. More entries to come.
To briefly explain my tacitness, I want to refer back to something I wrote in a blog post last fall or so: No news here is not necessarily good news. Over the past six months I have developed a dislike for certain aspects of life here in Turkey, and each time I've considered blogging I've realized that I don't want to publish my growing frustrations. Sometimes it's tough to cut through that layer of emotion.
This change of attitude of mine coincided with Jena and my decision to leave Turkey for the next academic year. In a sense, suspending my disbelief that we could make a pleasant life for ourselves professionally and personally here became too difficult.
In any case, at the moment, here on this summer night, things are looking a bit brighter for us. We're working on getting jobs lined up in Thailand next year. We think that the culture, geography, and attitudes toward education will be better suited to us.
As far as work is concerned, Jena and I basically have had nothing to do at work since the end of May; yet, we're still required to be there to earn our keep. It's really quite bizarre. In our time we have chatted a lot with our friends; we have volunteered to help a committee with one of its projects; we have taught a short summer school class for local high school students; and I, in particular, have done such notable things as fixing a dart board in the teachers' lounge and playing games of backgammon and chess with my friend Paul. It's a wild ride, I'll tell you what.
The good news is that this free time also gives me some spare energy which I'd like to use to get back into blogging. And I believe I have the inspiration as it happens to be the eve of Ramazan (yes, they spell it with a z here). Over the next thirty days, it is my intention to fast along with the Turks. Not because of any interest in the religious aspects of Islam, but simply to see whether my will-power can get me through it.
For those who don't know, the general gist of Ramazan is that it's a month during which Muslims are not supposed to consume anything while the sun is up each day. During the night, however, water, food, smoking, and sex (I think) are all fair game. There are a handful of reasons for this practice, but I have very little technical knowledge of them; besides, these reasons are not my focus. I just want to know whether I can do it. C'mon, no water during the summer for 14 hours and 53 minutes each day. That's crazy, right?
I did fast for one day in Ramazan-style in Flagstaff a little over a year ago. I thought the experience would be interesting, and it was. The thirst didn't get to me--it was the hunger. So, while my aspirations this year are a bit more grandiose, if I make through two days, I'll be on to a personal record.
To contextualize Ramazan a bit here, we've already heard the call to prayer at some irregular times this evening, and the calls have been longer and have been sung on a lower musical scale than usual. (To me this scale variation is a welcome surprise since many of the calls to prayer sound very strained when sung.) Additionally, Jena and I took a walk tonight around the local neighborhood. Maybe it was just us, but we sensed a collective feeling of anticipation. People were out, walking places with a sense of purpose. I saw at least one guy hurrying home with a large bag of Ramazan bread, which I think holds some significance during the month.
This coming morning at some hour Jena and I will probably wake to the banging of pots and pans-- and drums if they have them--which will wake everyone for the call to prayer and one last meal (usually soup) before sunrise. I vaguely remember reading that this takes place at around two or three AM. If I happen to wake up, I'll probably pound some water and get back into bed.
I guess you could interpret my actions as sacrilege (which is why I haven't told any Muslims that I'm doing this), but I'm curious to see how it goes. At the least I hope to develop some compassion for my Muslim coworkers during this time of abstinence. My hope is that I'll update this blog throughout the experience. Hopefully it won't degrade into sentences saying only "I'm hungry. I'm really damn hungry."
Let this experience be known as Alan's Ramazan 2015. More entries to come.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)