This Ramadan, the excitement I used to get as a child, rising with my parents just before dawn for a brekkie full of treats, has returned in an even sweeter way – watching my own children experience their first ever fasting feast in Australia.
The excitement was building long before the moon was sighted and the long marathon of spiritual deeds began.
My wife and children have joined me after almost three years of living apart, waiting for their Australian visas. Destiny has brought us together on a land where, centuries ago, men from our tribe – Sulaimankhel – joined other Afghan cameleers to help lay the foundations of modern Australia.
As the first day of Ramadan approached, we drove to a farm on the outskirts of Melbourne to stock up on berries and apples. Fruit is essential between the two main meals after sunset.
The older kids enjoyed the thrill of testing their own physical endurance fasting while letting go of urges for something greater and more sacred than themselves. For me, it was reviving this long-standing tradition with my family – a tradition that has enshrined values of discipline, selflessness and spiritual resilience in me.
Back in Kabul, not a single iftar would pass without us sharing meals with different members of the local community. The first one in Melbourne with my family was surprisingly similar, with a couple of our neighbours bringing in food to strengthen bonds and spread love.
Fasting is quite intense as it means no food at all, not even water, from dawn till dusk for a month. It also means controlling all sorts of impulsive urges during fasting such as sex, outburst of anger, lying, cheating. In my nearly three decades of celebrating Ramadan, I’ve learned that it takes a few days to get used to a new diet regime and the benefits can be immense.
With some exceptions on health grounds and pressing circumstances such as long-distance travel, fasting for adult Muslims is an obligatory ritual. It is later complemented with zakat, a calculated amount of obligatory charity on all extra wealth accumulated during the year. And of course the three-day Eid al-Fitr festival at the end of Ramadan.
For Muslims, Ramadan is one of five fundamental pillars of Islam. The Qur’an describes it as a time to reflect on which path in life to lead (the straight one), and to discern truth from falsehoods. But there are lessons for non-Muslims, too.
Ramadan inspires thoughtfulness and invites one to take some moments out of the busy and stressed life dominated by consumerism to reflect on one’s reason for being while enduring the seemingly unbearable with patience and dignity. Eating, drinking and speaking is probably on the top list of things we often do without putting too much thought into it. But Ramadan teaches us not to take these things for granted, and to be more self-aware and compassionate about everyone around us – near and far. As Rumi says: “Fasting is the first principle of medicine; fast and see the strength of the spirit reveal itself.”
For non-Muslims, seeing millions of people observe this marathon exercise of self-reflection and good deeds offers inspiration and motivation to grow patience, compassion and self-control. Appreciating beauty in the lifestyles of different communities is another virtue of this month when people’s reasons for doing things – eating, drinking or not – become more evident.
I’ve experienced many Ramadans in different parts of the world, and my experience midway through, especially this time around, is usually a longing to continue the regimen as it reaches an end. It’s my family’s first Ramadan in this beautiful country and we are all keenly experiencing this special time together. The glow on their faces makes it all worthwhile.
