Ramadan Kareem

The end of this week marks the conclusion of Ramadan, the month when the entire Islamic world fasts, prays, and works truncated hours to accommodate its hungry, sleep-deprived citizens. Hungry because they don't eat or drink anything from before sunrise until sundown, and sleep-deprived because in the time between iftar (the fast-breaking dinner after evening prayer) and suhur (the final meal before fasting begins again, usually around 3 or 4 a.m.), they stay up smoking sheesha and drinking tea, juice, and soda, or sitting in front of their televisions watching special Ramadan cartoons and nightly serials. All night, the streets are aglow with hanging aluminum lanterns and strings of colored lightbulbs, and kids run around setting off firecrackers that make sudden alarming bomb-like sounds well into the wee hours of the morning.

I went to an iftar last week in a restaurant on a boat in the Nile. Many of the restaurants in Cairo serve iftar every night during Ramadan, with space at the nicest ones booking up weeks in advance. Traditionally, everyone is seated at tables that are already laid with bowls of salads (hummus, babaghanoug, etc.) and glasses of date juice and apricot juice, but no one can eat until the call to prayer sounds from the mosques. When it does, everyone says a prayer and sips slowly at their juice, this being supposedly the healthiest way for your stomach to end a day of fasting. Then lentil soup is brought, and the salads are eaten with bread, and then a main course of meat, chicken, or fish is served, and finally the meal is capped with an array of desserts including baq lawa, kunafa, and sticky apricot paste, accompanied by tea and coffee.

I attempted to fast on the day I went to iftar, and I managed to get through the entire day from 7 a.m. until 6 p.m. on only two cups of tea, one cup of coffee, and five dates. Not truly a fast, but I felt like I owed some measure of mental acuity to my boss and coworkers that wouldn't have been possible on a wholly empty stomach. I end up de facto fasting until 3 o'clock most days anyway because I'm too self-conscious to eat lunch in front of my well-disciplined, piously lunch-less colleagues. Next week, after eid (the holiday that officially ends Ramadan), I'll start taking the loveliest lunch breaks. Or as the reality will probably be, nibbling a sandwich at my desk because I have too much to do to afford such luxuries as lunch breaks. Remind me again why I'm not getting a salary for this job?