Yasmeen Abutaleb mug
Instead of taking a lunch break for the past month, I’ve longingly looked at my coworker’s sandwich, scoured the Internet for pictures of food so vivid you can almost taste it (thanks, Pinterest) or tried to distract myself with articles about whatever I may be interested in that day — many times about new restaurant or food fads.
And it’s not because I’m on some crazy diet plan in which I deprive myself of all food and am left to imagine it instead. It’s because Ramadan, the Muslim holy month of fasting, began on July 10.
Most people know the very basics of Ramadan: You abstain from all food or drink, including water, from dawn until sunset. When I explain this to my friends or coworkers, I’m usually greeted with shocked looks and comments of, “I have no idea how you do that” and, “Couldn’t you, like, die?”
As this year’s Ramadan came to a close — yesterday was the last day and today is Eid-al-Fitr, which celebrates the end of the month — a friend asked me how this year’s fast compared to last. Sure, I still felt tired and hungry, I told him, but I also felt I had come to appreciate Ramadan for all it’s supposed to teach us.
It’s not just about missing lunch for a month — it’s also about bringing family and friends together for Iftar, the evening meal that breaks the fast, and truly learning self-discipline. The not eating and drinking, I like to think, is a reminder of everything we’re supposed to be cognizant of while we’re fasting.
It’s almost like its own 30-day rehab program. We don’t only abstain from food and drink — we’re also supposed to avoid gossiping and cursing (difficult for many of us), and all general negative behavior. And Ramadan is a time to be more giving and compassionate toward those less fortunate, whether it’s through donations to the poor or just smiling to more people as you walk down the street.
Of course, not everyone is required to fast. You’re supposed to start fasting once you’ve reached puberty, and there are plenty of exemptions because it’s not supposed to harm you in any way. Pregnant women, people on medication or who are sick (even just a cold) and people traveling are just a few examples.
Perhaps most importantly, for one month, you truly learn what it’s like not to be able to eat whenever you want, and you develop a new compassion for those less fortunate. Yes, we can’t eat or drink all day, but we know exactly what time our next meal will be and that there will be more than enough food for us to enjoy. And we know when the month is over, we can eat and drink whenever we want — do any of us really stop to think about how awesome that is?
I’ve been fortunate enough to enjoy a comfortable life, and I’ve never had to worry where my next meal was coming from. It’s something I’ve always appreciated, but during Ramadan, I always feel more compelled to give money to people on the streets, make sure my family and friends all know how much I love them and work on my shortcomings.
After explaining all this to my friend, I realized Ramadan — or maybe just fasting for a day — is something everyone should try at least once in their lives. After all, we both reasoned, there are lessons and shared humanity in the act, Muslim or not.
The month is over; the feasting for Eid has begun and everything will be back to normal tomorrow. But I hope that every year, I get a little closer to appreciating what I have all year. And I hope I finish the month with the lessons I’m supposed to have learned.
Next year, Ramadan will start at about June 28, because the Islamic calendar is a lunar calendar, meaning it starts on different days in different countries. Maybe you should wait until Ramadan is in the winter again (and the days are far shorter), but try it for one year — or even just one day. If anything, it’ll at least be another challenge you can overcome, and there’s plenty of pride in that.
Yasmeen Abutaleb is a senior journalism and microbiology major and former editor in chief of The Diamondback. She can be reached at y.abutaleb7@gmail.com.
