First Ramadan Experience
After the lights were out from the AIT International Welcome Show, I shed my evening best to join select friends from the Muslim community the first breakfast before the opening of the fast for the Ramadan. It was my first “religious” breakfast, one that started rather unusually early at 4 am.
The fare consisted of chappati, fried chicken, scrambled egg, and minced chicken with curry. Four of us were seated in one part of the cafeteria, while most were huddled together on the other side. Such gathering is an apt time to talk about matters that people normally shun – religious practices and beliefs. It is common knowledge that Muslims practice fasting on Ramadan. By fasting, I mean the extreme fasting where nothing can be taken in by the body for an extended period. Beyond that, I did not know much.
Fasting for beginners
Fasting, one of the five pillars of Islam, is a commitment made by Muslims as part of their profession of faith. It is accompanied by solemn praying of the verses of the Qu’ran known as the tariwah, and charity.
The dates for fasting are determined using the lunar cycle, and on this year, the Ramadan commenced on September 24 for the next 30 days. Someone who adheres to the faith must make a commitment to fast within the period. Even if the person is not ready to fast or in case of illness cannot, within the specified time, he or she will still have to compensate for it in the subsequent month or will have to extend a good deed to less fortunate people. More than a public profession of faith, fasting has many virtues, including discipline of the mind and body, internalization of the experience of empathy for suffering through hunger and thirst, and denial of self-gratification. In the next 30 days, Muslims cannot take in any food or liquid, including water, between 5:00 am (depending on the agreed community time) to 6:15 pm (in some cases, at a later time). The interesting part, and which has superseded my earlier notion, is that they close the fast from 6:15 pm onwards, and from which they can partake of food and drink. The meal to break the fast for the day is called the iftar.
Breaking of the fast
Three days after my opening breakfast, I was invited to join the iftar, another first. When I arrived, I found my two Muslim friends scurrying about the kitchen at 4pm, boiling and sautéing chicken and forming potato patties, or aloo pakora, covered with besam powder. Technically, their fast has not yet ended and therefore, they have to trust their culinary instincts at least until they are allowed to taste them. As a guest, all I can do was assist them in the kitchen, measuring and cleaning rice and setting it correctly in the cooker. Later, I was handed the chicken dish, which should be placed on top of the rice. The rice dish called pulao is similar to the Filipino version of paella. After a brief blunder with the warm button, the chicken rice was on its way. Still, there was another dish being prepared, the staple chicken curry. After the aloo pakora were dished out and were looking semi-crispy; the bread soaked in milk and beaten egg, and later fried; the chicken curry ready; the pulao warm and perfect for some helping; and a pile of warm roti served, a bright yellow table cover was laid out on the floor where the dishes were arranged – surely a mini-feast for four people. Just when I thought I had enough, home-made custard was waiting.
Box of chocolate
I went home that night feeling stuffed and enlightened. I thought I could actually fast the next day. It was not just nice to share a nice meal with good friends, but also draw insights from the observance of important religious acts.
In Christian countries, including the Philippines, the closest ritual to Ramadan would be the opening of the Lenten week – a commemoration of Christ’s denial and crucifixion in Calvary, and his eventual resurrection from the dead. During this time, Christians are enjoined to abstain from eating red and white meat, and from taking alcohol as a display of self-sacrifice. Complete abstinence, however, is not compulsory as different Christian denominations have different ideas of restraining from any form of excess. Regular TV programs are not showing and instead you have a slew of religious films and shows like the Ten Commandments, Passion of Christ, among others. Shopping malls, however, do not close until Good Friday and Black Saturday. In my faith, we usually perform a set of rituals consisting of breaking of the bread (the body of Christ), drinking from cup of Christ, and washing of the feet – acts that Christ performed with his disciples during the last Supper and in the last hour before his persecution.
Evenings like that make me realize that life is really like a box of chocolate - I never really know what I am going to get until I dare poke my hand and pick my own chocolate to finish. Religion and spirituality are one such chocolate in a box of possibilities.
Fasting, one of the five pillars of Islam, is a commitment made by Muslims as part of their profession of faith. It is accompanied by solemn praying of the verses of the Qu’ran known as the tariwah, and charity.
Three days after my opening breakfast, I was invited to join the iftar, another first. When I arrived, I found my two Muslim friends scurrying about the kitchen at 4pm, boiling and sautéing chicken and forming potato patties, or aloo pakora, covered with besam powder. Technically, their fast has not yet ended and therefore, they have to trust their culinary instincts at least until they are allowed to taste them. As a guest, all I can do was assist them in the kitchen, measuring and cleaning rice and setting it correctly in the cooker. Later, I was handed the chicken dish, which should be placed on top of the rice. The rice dish called pulao is similar to the Filipino version of paella. After a brief blunder with the warm button, the chicken rice was on its way. Still, there was another dish being prepared, the staple chicken curry. After the aloo pakora were dished out and were looking semi-crispy; the bread soaked in milk and beaten egg, and later fried; the chicken curry ready; the pulao warm and perfect for some helping; and a pile of warm roti served, a bright yellow table cover was laid out on the floor where the dishes were arranged – surely a mini-feast for four people. Just when I thought I had enough, home-made custard was waiting.
I went home that night feeling stuffed and enlightened. I thought I could actually fast the next day. It was not just nice to share a nice meal with good friends, but also draw insights from the observance of important religious acts.