Showing posts with label Ramadan. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ramadan. Show all posts

Sunday, September 01, 2013

HUMOUR: Another round of Ramadan lunar-cy


This week, a fair proportion of 400,000-odd Australians who tick the 'Islam' box on their census forms will mark the start of Ramadan.

Ramadan is the 29 or 30 days when Muslims are supposed to refrain from eating, drinking, smoking and intercoursing between sunrise and sunset. If they can be bothered getting up in time, they have a light breakfast. At the end of the day, they have a small meal followed by their sunset (maghrib) prayers and then dinner. After dinner, people head to the mosque for extra prayers that can take anything from 30 minutes to two hours (depending on which mosque you go to). We then hit the sack and get ready to do it all again the next morning.

The whole exercise is supposed to fine tune your soul, weaken the ties binding you to your physical appetites and test your religiosity. You do it for a whole month, and you do it at the same time as the entire Muslim community. Ramadan is a lunar month, and this month unites Muslims around the globe in an envelope of piety and mercy.

At least that's the theory.

Christians, unless they're Orthodox, know that Christmas is on 25 December each year. But Ramadan in fact starts at different times, depending upon when the moon is sighted. Now you'd think that after 1400 years, Muslims would have figured out how to perform the simple task of sighting the moon. Think again.

My mum's Ramadan calender states that Ramadan begins on Tuesday 9 July 2013. I picked up this calender for her from a Lebanese restaurant in south western Sydney. Had I picked it up from a South Asian spice shop, the start date would have been perhaps one or two days later. If I'd visited a mosque managed by the Turkish government-aligned Diyanet Vakfi (Religious Trust), I could purchase a calender which determines all lunar months for the next few decades, if not centuries.

Turks 'sight' the moon by relying on astronomical calculations. They think that since science has progressed so far that man can now walk on the moon, it seems a bit pointless to insist on sighting it with your naked eye. Cypriots, Bosnians and Albanians agree.

Muslims of Indo-Pakistani, Bangladeshi, South African and Indo-Fijian backgrounds insist on sighting the moon with their naked eyes. Their Ramadan usually begins one or two days after the Turks. Indonesians and Malaysians tend to follow the Arabic-speakers who generally start their Ramadan on the same day as the Turks. Some nationalities follow the fatwas of overseas religious authorities such as Saudi Arabia or Malaysia.

Aussie converts tend to be confused by the whole confusing spectacle of lunar-cy. That, or they start with whichever community is least condescending and most welcoming to them. It's amazing how universal religion can bring out the nationalism and cultural chauvinism in many Muslim migrants.

Then there is the issue of eating. Muslims aren't the most punctual people on the planet. But when it comes to a fast-opening (iftar) gathering, they're always on time, because they know that a huge feast awaits them on arrival. The real test during Ramadan is how on earth all that food is going to be finished. Pakistani iftar gatherings are especially ghee-filled affairs with up to 20 separate dishes filling the smorgasbord.

Most Muslims break their fast with a single date and a glass of water before spreading the mats out for the sunset prayer. Indo-Pakistanis prefer to stuff their faces with a fruit salad called chaat and deep-fried spicy potato cakes called pakora. The chaat salad is composed of three parts chopped fruit, two parts lemon juice, four parts curry powder and approximately 500 parts sugar. A duty free sized block of Toblerone would be lighter on the aorta.

And so for most of us, Ramadan is the month of massive weight gain.

For iftar gatherings earlier on in Ramadan, the blokes somehow roll their way to the mosque for the long tarawih prayers. The process of merely bending over to perform ablutions and walking up a few flights of stairs can be a struggle. But imagine standing in prayer in a row of blokes burping the contents of their iftar with some frequency. Still, why try beating them when you can join them?

In Melbourne, where Muslims are somewhat less disorganised, corporate iftar parties are all the rage. SBS, ABC, various banks and telcos hold iftar parties for leading members and hangers-on in the community. Imagine the view they must enjoy over the Melbourne Harbour footbridge or whatever it's called.

Canberra is the land of embassy iftar parties. Some years ago I hosted a morning drive show on a Ramadan radio station. I accidentally deliberately read an article on air which described Syria as a police state. Someone from the Syrian ambassador showed his devotion to free speech by ringing up the station organiser and making all kinds of threats. A few days later, I attended an iftar party at the Syrian embassy. The Lebanese food was scrumptious. The ambassador and all his staff were very polite. Perhaps I really do have the perfect face for radio.

As Ramadan comes to an end, people plan their day off; for the big day of Eid (or Bayram if you're Turkish, Bosnian or Albanian). Employers across the nation, take note: don't be surprised if your Muslim employees ask for different days off. The lunar-cy of determining the beginning of Ramadan is repeated at the end. I know some Sydney lunar-tic authorities who can't tell you when Eid is until the morning of Eid! One enterprising service sends you notice of the naked eye sighting of the moon by text message.

So welcome to Ramadan Aussie style in what would have to be the most disorganised congregation in the country. Anyone waiting for us to have the organisational skills to establish sharia government will have to wait until well after the next Ice Age. First published in Eureka Street on 08 July 2013.

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Monday, August 10, 2009

REFLECTION: Daisy breaks her fast ...

This piece from the Aussie Mossie blog was published on Saturday 14 October 2006.
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Daisy breaks her fast

Tonight I went to an iftar party at Canberra. It is the month of Ramadan and it is traditional for Muslims to break their fasts together. Tonight it was the turn of the Indonesians to stuff our faces with rendang and chicken curry.

One of our guests was a lady named Daisy. She had wheatish brown hair and milky-white skin. She was from northern Queensland and had a broad Strayn accent. She was there with her daughter, a young mother who wore a headscarf.

I presumed the daughter was a convert and that Daisy was one of the token Catholics at the function. How wrong I was!

Daisy was one of a large number of
Albanian Muslims living in Mareeba. Her dad migrated to Australia from Albania in 1927, her mum in 1935. Daisy was born in northern Queensland.

Albanians are among Australia’s oldest central European migrants. The bulk of Albanians are of nominally Muslim faith. They have built and continue to manage a number of mosques and centres in regional areas such as Mareeba and Shepparton (in Victoria) where they have large communities.

Daisy was telling me about the Bayram (Eid – the post-Ramadan feast) in Mareeba. She said the Albanians get together and have a barbecue in true Aussie style, just as they’ve been doing since they first migrated here. Their Eid is somewhat different to the Bosnians, who tend to roast a lamb on the spit.

If John Howard were to meet Daisy in the street, I doubt he would recognise her as Muslim. But Albanians are proud of their faith, even if many aren’t regarded as terribly observant.

Daisy is living proof that Islam is a truly Australian faith with root deep in the Australian soil. It is ironic that Daisy spent much of her time this evening chatting with another Canberra Muslim of Torres Strait Islander background. It was a truly Australian gathering to celebrate a truly Australian event.

In a fortnight or so, hundreds of thousands of Muslim will gather to celebrate the end of Ramadan. The Albanians of Mareeba will also be celebrating Bayram, just as they have been doing for the last 80 years. With steaks on the barbecue and perhaps even a few glasses of arak.


Words © 2006-9 Irfan Yusuf



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Tuesday, June 28, 2005

REFLECTION: From The Fringes of Ramadhan

(I wrote this piece in November 2004 (at least I think that's when it was) after visiting a friend who works behind a bar. I often used to visit her a work. When she is not serving beer and spirits to my mates and other customers, we would chat and listen and crack jokes and gas-bag like the 2 old men in the Muppet Show. Sometimes we would lose track of time, engrossed in conversation as we'd chat face-to-face with our chins resting on our hands and our elbows resting on some coasters, a bit like a scene from the British comedy duo Smith & Jones.

In those days, I felt so awful about not being able to fast. I told her as much, and she told me of her own frustration with knowing so little about her late father's heritage. It was then that I told her a few things about Ramadhan, about the Night of Power, about the significance of fasting and its spiritual aspect.

I had the feeling my words were getting through to her, but I had no idea to what extent. After that visit, I went home and penned this article for the MuslimWakeUp.com Ramadhan Diary section. It got published. I showed it to Jane a few days later but asked her not to read it until she finished work.

At 2am the next morning, I received the following text message on my mobile phone:

"Your story made of [me - she was using autotext] feel closer and included in a place I thought had died with my father Yet again you’ve made my reality a better one to exist in **Jane"

After receiving that text message, I could really feel the spirit of Ramadan. It was as if I could see the devils being chained before my very eyes.

Sometimes one can only appreciate spiritual life whilst standing on its fringe. Imam Hamza Yusuf Hansonn once quoted of friend of his as saying: "A religious person is someone who does not want to go to hell. A spiritual person is someone who has already been to hell and doesn't want to go back!")

______________________

This Ramadhan, I am happy and sad to announce that I will not be fasting. Yes, I know it is bad manners to make this public. After all, we are meant to be hiding our sins.

My failure to fast, however, is not a sin. In fact, for me to fast would be a virtual act of suicide. Now that’s what I call a sin!

Like many millions of Muslims out there, I have to take medication. So my announcement that I will not be fasting brings me mixed feelings.

I am happy because I will continue my successful management of a health condition that has plagued me big-time since February 2002. It was during one day of that month and year that I virtually collapsed. After numerous tests, it was discovered that my thyroid was not the best. The result was my having to take some 14 months off work.

I am sad because my health conditions and my need for medication at strictly appointed times result in my having to miss out on fasting. I feel like I am on the fringe of Ramadan.

Tonight I met up with a friend from New Zealand. Jane’s father was a Malay Muslim, though she never met him. When Jane’s mother was pregnant, the parents split up. Dad stayed in Malaysia and mum went to New Zealand. Jane knew about her father but never actually met him. Some 12 months after he passed away, Jane got a chance to visit Malaysia and meet her half-brothers and step mother who showed her the grave of her father.

For Jane, Ramadan is a distant yet important part of her life that always seemed to be missing and absent like her father. So when she asked me about Ramadan tonight, I felt embarrassed to tell her that I was not fasting. She found it hard to relate to my embarrassment.

I then explained to her that fasting is to Ramadan what Bethlehem and Jesus are to Christmas. I grew up with fasting during Ramadan. I can still remember the first time I fasted. I was some 6 years old, a rather chubby lad with long hair and big ears. And an even bigger stomach. I don’t think I had ever eaten so many ‘pakoras’ (deep-fried Indian potato cakes) as I did when breaking my fast on that day.

Jane could not help but compare Ramadan to the Christmas and Easter of her mild-Hispanic Catholic upbringing. She knew it was somehow related to visiting friends and family. She knew it lasted one month. She knew there were times when extra blessings were in store. She even had heard that people who died during this month were able to avoid hell (perhaps she confused this with typical hajj stories).

So here I was, trying to make Ramadan real for someone who loved it but had never seen it (much the same way as she had loved her father but never seen him). Even my half-hearted attempts at explaining the timings of fasting, the tarawih prayers and the significance of the Laylat al-Qadr and the last ten nights during which the search is on for this powerful night, seemed to captivate Jane’s attention.

Perhaps someone could convince Michael Wolfe to write a book on Ramadan in Morocco (or at least cut out the first half of his book on the Hadj and publish it separately) so I could give a copy to the Jane’s of this world. That way we could both feel a little less like Ramadan fringe-dwellers.
And so that the Irfan’s of this world could speak to them with greater conviction. Because moving onto my third Ramadan without fasting has made me feel a little bit rusty. I know I do not have to fast. But you don’t know what you’ve got until medication takes it away. I guess I will have to make-do with the spiritual burst of the super-fast turbo-charged tarawih at the local Turkish mosque. Speaking of which …

Words © 2005 Irfan Yusuf

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