I sat in my darkened house and watched as the clouds shifted position in the sky. It was evening, but the sun wasn't gone completely yet, so I still had a few minutes before the call to prayer in order to break fast. I heard flocks birds in the fig trees near my house, their voices rose through the air like a symphony. I watched as children walked down the path next to my house to my neighbor's house; the women kept their faces to the ground, but the children pressed their faces against my window to peek into the foreigner's house. At first, I found it incredibly annoying; I still do, but I'm used to that, now. Curiosity tends to beat out civility, regardless of what culture one finds oneself.
For approximately the past two weeks, I have always waited until about fifteen minutes before the call to prayer to begin cooking. Usually, I would cook a box of mac & cheese, or a box of jambalaya mix sent from home. But now, I have learned to expect something else. Every night, one of my neighbor's has taken it upon himself to provide food for me during Ramadan. Every night, he arrives at my doorstep and repeatedly calls out my Moroccan name,
"Yunz... Yunz... Hey Yunz... Yunz, Yunz, Yunz... Hey Yunz... Hey Yunz."
Typically, I'm at the door by the time he calls out my name for the tenth time. He presents to me a tray with soup, stuffed bread, and sometimes a sweet bread or dates. The term they use for this is called "sadaka", which means alms giving.
It's a strange concept, because I never really considered myself to be the one in the community in need of charity. I came here from America, where even the poorest and most destitute of citizens has access to government programs and would be considered middle class anywhere in the developing world. I make money that is equivalent to middle class here. I'm in the newest house in the community. I have a blender. I have all of these things, and yet, when it comes down to it, there are some in the community who feel I am in need of charity. I went to my landlord's house the other day to break fast with the entire community. One of the people of the village came over to me as I sat by myself
"This is my cousin, and this is my brother, and this is my brother's wife's sister."
"Wow," I replied, "So the entire village is like one big extended family."
"That's right." He said, "Are you sad? Do you miss your family?"
"I miss my family," I replied, "But I'm not that sad."
"But you are?" He asked.
"A little."
It's funny, I guess. In America, when asked who is rich, we usually respond with famous people, sports players, or CEOs. Sometimes, people will say they are rich because they have family, but in America, that reply tends to come from the type of person who only sees their family for holidays. But here, it is different. Sure, people can want things, but they don't let those things define whether or not they are rich or poor. It isn't so much about having some things, but rather being something to someone.
I don't want to make this a post about how pure and honest the Moroccan people are. Moroccans are just like us; there are good and bad ones, there are good and bad habits here, too. It's just that the extent to which my community places the value of family seems jarring to what my culture has led so many of us to believe.
Of course, I believe that both cultures are sides of the same coin. Regardless of whether or not one views having things or people in one's life that defines one's richness, they are both placing the ability to define self worth in reference to external objects. I know my family isn't with me physically, but I can communicate with them online. Even if that weren't the case, I have all of my senses; I am able to watch that sunset, I am able to hear those birds, I am able to feel the wind in this valley, smell and taste the food given to me. My worth is not dependent on who takes care of my or what things I have. My worth is inherent because I exist. We are all inherently worthy.
But there is still a nice feeling when I open that door and see my neighbor with a smile as he hands me the tray of soup and stuffed bread. It makes me feel rich.
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Ramadan Challenge: Traveling
A Dialogue
"They say it happens." I said to Princess Leia as we waited in the bus, "volunteers have said that they've seen it personally."
"I'm not saying anything," she replied.
"My blog is about cataloging the universal Peace Corps experience. I mean, 90% true is pretty true when you think about it."
Out the front door, we saw two men begin to push each other.
"There!" I said, "That counts as a fight!"
"Whatever you say," Princess Leia said, and she fell asleep.
"I wonder if I can get away with saying that I intervened and stopped the fight."
"Don't push your luck."
***
A Commentary
Our bosses at HQ advised us against traveling during the early part of Ramadan due to the fact that a lot of fights break out because people aren't used to not having their snack time in the late morning and early afternoon. Personally, I have always found that without food, I am less inclined to express aggression towards people. Then again, I'm not very aggressive to begin with.
So, yes, we traveled for the first time during Ramadan. Up until now, I have kept myself in my house and tried to keep as cool as possible with bathing, and keeping my mouth from drying out by brushing my teeth. Unfortunately, I had to travel at some point of another; it's not like I could get away with showing up at a random person's house every night during Ramadan; my town is more formal than most. Families tend to keep to themselves here more than most other villages. Of course, they are still very very friendly, but the quietness of the village suits me.
In a way, I am glad that no major violence broke out. We were able to go through the town without any incident while visiting other volunteers to discuss an AIDS event that we hope to put on in December.
There is something that I find fascinating about fasting. There seems to be something about feeling the pangs of hunger that makes me want to read my Buddhist scriptures. I know that it is not a good correlation to begin to create, but still, the correlation between suffering and spirituality is the same as the correlation between ecstasy and spirituality. I used to say all of the time back home that God is omni-experiential, the more you feel something, regardless whether it is sadness, joy, or anger, the closer you can become with God. Hell is indifference, not suffering.
Of course, my concept of God seems quite different than most people's understanding. To me, God is not a Being, but the Ground of All Being
***
A Vignette
It had begun to rain by the time the bus finally left the station, but due to the little rain that appeared, and the heat of summer, it didn't cool the city, but merely filled it with steam. Knowing that it was Ramadan, and that everybody that we saw was as hungry as we were, it seemed as though we were leaving a city of hungry ghosts as described in the old scriptures of Buddhism. Faces taut, lips dry, men with slender arms moved slowly to load and unload packages from beneath the bus.
The stones were streaked with rain as we returned from Er Rachidia, Princess Leia following close behind me as I traversed the winding road to my house that had begun to fill with rain. Everybody was in their houses, preparing for the breaking of the fast. As I reached the door of my house, I heard the sound of running water. I looked up. In front of my house, at the edge of the valley, waterfalls had formed, and the water cascaded down the mountainside.
"That explains how the plants around there stay alive." Princess Leia said.
I unlocked the door, and we went inside. We watched an animated movie titled Howl's Moving Castle, in which a young girl is transformed into an old woman by a witch, and while she tries to break the spell, meets Howl, a handsome wizard whose own life is consumed by his desire to remain beautiful. We needed to go to the market the next day, but I didn't want to get only a little sleep, so Princess Leia took a nap.
I tried to watch Ponyo, the story of an underwater creature who falls in love with a boy on land and transforms herself into a human so that she can be with him. I couldn't watch it, though, due to the fact that it was only in Japanese, and I wanted to hear Liam Neeson's voice. I turned off the computer and lie down so that I could listen to the sound of the waterfalls around me in the darkness. I fell asleep and I dreamed that I was traveling beneath the ocean. And then I became the ocean; every creature and entity within the waves swam through me, and I realized that these were creatures who had lived in the depths since before humans existed, and that they would be here long after.
***
Conclude
Christians cause themselves suffering so that they can be close to God. Opus Dei is the first group that comes to mind that practices self flagellation. Muslims also do the same through events like Ramadan, so that they, too, can feel close to God. As a Buddhist, I strive for equanimity, without too much attachment or aversion. I have to express sadness for those who truly believe that there is a culture war with Islam itself. However, given the nature of shifting cultures, I know that one day, the war will be over, and a new culture will have emerged from it; and I truly believe that it will combine the Selfless love of Christ with the Submission to God of Islam and also the Liberal Democratic values of Humanistic Western culture; it is simply the nature of things to combine and reform to its apotheosis. We are always - always - on a journey to God; and regardless of what we think we see, we cannot deviate from that path.
"They say it happens." I said to Princess Leia as we waited in the bus, "volunteers have said that they've seen it personally."
"I'm not saying anything," she replied.
"My blog is about cataloging the universal Peace Corps experience. I mean, 90% true is pretty true when you think about it."
Out the front door, we saw two men begin to push each other.
"There!" I said, "That counts as a fight!"
"Whatever you say," Princess Leia said, and she fell asleep.
"I wonder if I can get away with saying that I intervened and stopped the fight."
"Don't push your luck."
***
A Commentary
Our bosses at HQ advised us against traveling during the early part of Ramadan due to the fact that a lot of fights break out because people aren't used to not having their snack time in the late morning and early afternoon. Personally, I have always found that without food, I am less inclined to express aggression towards people. Then again, I'm not very aggressive to begin with.
So, yes, we traveled for the first time during Ramadan. Up until now, I have kept myself in my house and tried to keep as cool as possible with bathing, and keeping my mouth from drying out by brushing my teeth. Unfortunately, I had to travel at some point of another; it's not like I could get away with showing up at a random person's house every night during Ramadan; my town is more formal than most. Families tend to keep to themselves here more than most other villages. Of course, they are still very very friendly, but the quietness of the village suits me.
In a way, I am glad that no major violence broke out. We were able to go through the town without any incident while visiting other volunteers to discuss an AIDS event that we hope to put on in December.
There is something that I find fascinating about fasting. There seems to be something about feeling the pangs of hunger that makes me want to read my Buddhist scriptures. I know that it is not a good correlation to begin to create, but still, the correlation between suffering and spirituality is the same as the correlation between ecstasy and spirituality. I used to say all of the time back home that God is omni-experiential, the more you feel something, regardless whether it is sadness, joy, or anger, the closer you can become with God. Hell is indifference, not suffering.
Of course, my concept of God seems quite different than most people's understanding. To me, God is not a Being, but the Ground of All Being
***
A Vignette
It had begun to rain by the time the bus finally left the station, but due to the little rain that appeared, and the heat of summer, it didn't cool the city, but merely filled it with steam. Knowing that it was Ramadan, and that everybody that we saw was as hungry as we were, it seemed as though we were leaving a city of hungry ghosts as described in the old scriptures of Buddhism. Faces taut, lips dry, men with slender arms moved slowly to load and unload packages from beneath the bus.
The stones were streaked with rain as we returned from Er Rachidia, Princess Leia following close behind me as I traversed the winding road to my house that had begun to fill with rain. Everybody was in their houses, preparing for the breaking of the fast. As I reached the door of my house, I heard the sound of running water. I looked up. In front of my house, at the edge of the valley, waterfalls had formed, and the water cascaded down the mountainside.
"That explains how the plants around there stay alive." Princess Leia said.
I unlocked the door, and we went inside. We watched an animated movie titled Howl's Moving Castle, in which a young girl is transformed into an old woman by a witch, and while she tries to break the spell, meets Howl, a handsome wizard whose own life is consumed by his desire to remain beautiful. We needed to go to the market the next day, but I didn't want to get only a little sleep, so Princess Leia took a nap.
I tried to watch Ponyo, the story of an underwater creature who falls in love with a boy on land and transforms herself into a human so that she can be with him. I couldn't watch it, though, due to the fact that it was only in Japanese, and I wanted to hear Liam Neeson's voice. I turned off the computer and lie down so that I could listen to the sound of the waterfalls around me in the darkness. I fell asleep and I dreamed that I was traveling beneath the ocean. And then I became the ocean; every creature and entity within the waves swam through me, and I realized that these were creatures who had lived in the depths since before humans existed, and that they would be here long after.
***
Conclude
Christians cause themselves suffering so that they can be close to God. Opus Dei is the first group that comes to mind that practices self flagellation. Muslims also do the same through events like Ramadan, so that they, too, can feel close to God. As a Buddhist, I strive for equanimity, without too much attachment or aversion. I have to express sadness for those who truly believe that there is a culture war with Islam itself. However, given the nature of shifting cultures, I know that one day, the war will be over, and a new culture will have emerged from it; and I truly believe that it will combine the Selfless love of Christ with the Submission to God of Islam and also the Liberal Democratic values of Humanistic Western culture; it is simply the nature of things to combine and reform to its apotheosis. We are always - always - on a journey to God; and regardless of what we think we see, we cannot deviate from that path.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Ramadan Challenge: Peace Corps as Stockholm Syndrome
Today, I went to my host family's house to break fast. I was given the impression by my bosses that breaking fast was usually a very energetic time, with large parties in every home that lasts from sundown until sunrise the next day. Fortunately, I live in a quiet town, so I was relieved when I arrived and saw only my host family sitting outside, eating their "Maghrib", or their break fast meal. I walked in and gave them my basket that overflowed with fruits like a cornucopia. I told my host mom, who had seen me earlier that day, that I would come over that evening with fruit. But when she saw the basket, she shouted, "I know you said you had a lot, but that's A LOT." She carried the basket of fruit into the kitchen, and my host dad poured me some tea. I looked into the courtyard and watched as my host brothers wrestled.
"So, you decided to fast, also?" my host father asked.
"Yes," I said, "I want to know how the people here feel."
"Well congratulations. Good for you. Is ____ fasting?"
"Yes, she is, but she's drinking water."
"Then she's not fasting."
"I know, that's what everyone tells her, but she is drinking water for her health."
"And you aren't?" he asked.
"That's right," I replied, "Because I want to really know how everyone here feels. If not drinking water were that much of a health hazard, then Islam would have found a way to change it after all of these centuries."
"This is true." he said.
He leaned over to pour himself another large glass of water. My host brothers drank more water, as well. My host mother returned with trays of soup. I sat there for a moment and stared up into the night sky and watched as Orion chased Taurus. At that point, something strange happened in my mind. I felt I was no longer a visitor, but an actual member of the family. I wasn't speaking to my host father and mother; I was speaking to my father and mother, who were giving me advice. The Rays came over, and I didn't think of him as such; he was simply my uncle. Now, Wikipedia defines "Stockholm Syndrome:
"Yunz," my uncle said, "Maneesh?" (which means literally where are you, but is meant as a how are you gesture.
"Da." I replied, to everyone's laughter. (Da simply means here, which means my sarcasm is finally breaking through.)
"So, how are you feeling about fasting?"
"I'm feeling great. Because I'm not drinking water, I have to find different ways to keep myself cool. Like putting a cool towel around my neck when I go outside."
"Yes, we do that," My dad replied, "Also, at night we drink a lot of water and eat fruit."
"Yeah, that's true."
"Yunz," my mom said, "Eat the shebekia."
Imagine a bite-sized funnel cake, covered and filled with honey and sugar, and then covered with little sesame seeds and sugar. You will get a small glimpse into the deliciousness of shebekia.
"Oh God," I said, "I have to learn how to make this."
"Oh Yunz," my mom said, "Ha ha ha."
I looked at her and raised an eyebrow.
"Oh," She said, realizing I was serious, "Sure, one day soon."
Breaking fast with a family is so much different than breaking fast by myself. The fact that we are all looking at the food, and that we know how hungry we all are, while we're in such close proximity, made me feel more connected to them. I wasn't merely a guest - I was finally family. I don't think that would have happened had I chosen to drink during Ramadan. This brings me to:
My Theory of Peace Corps
The purpose of Peace Corps is to encourage the volunteers to assist their communities through the use of an elaborate Stockholm Syndrome. The purpose is to make the volunteer identify with the community and to truly try to see problems through the eyes of the community, and not just as a volunteer. For instance, I think that by fasting just as they are, it helps me identify better with them. Because for things like health, I have to think of ways to keep myself healthy without resorting to drinking water and I come up with things like dipping towels in water while I'm working dipping hats in water; things like that.
But if I get back to America and have a craving for a couscous with a sheep's stomach lining, I will not be opposed to an involuntary psychiatric assessment, because that's messed up.
"So, you decided to fast, also?" my host father asked.
"Yes," I said, "I want to know how the people here feel."
"Well congratulations. Good for you. Is ____ fasting?"
"Yes, she is, but she's drinking water."
"Then she's not fasting."
"I know, that's what everyone tells her, but she is drinking water for her health."
"And you aren't?" he asked.
"That's right," I replied, "Because I want to really know how everyone here feels. If not drinking water were that much of a health hazard, then Islam would have found a way to change it after all of these centuries."
"This is true." he said.
He leaned over to pour himself another large glass of water. My host brothers drank more water, as well. My host mother returned with trays of soup. I sat there for a moment and stared up into the night sky and watched as Orion chased Taurus. At that point, something strange happened in my mind. I felt I was no longer a visitor, but an actual member of the family. I wasn't speaking to my host father and mother; I was speaking to my father and mother, who were giving me advice. The Rays came over, and I didn't think of him as such; he was simply my uncle. Now, Wikipedia defines "Stockholm Syndrome:
Stockholm syndrome is a term used to describe a paradoxical psychological phenomenon wherein hostages express adulation and have positive feelings towards their captors that appear irrational in light of the danger or risk endured by the victims.
"Yunz," my uncle said, "Maneesh?" (which means literally where are you, but is meant as a how are you gesture.
"Da." I replied, to everyone's laughter. (Da simply means here, which means my sarcasm is finally breaking through.)
"So, how are you feeling about fasting?"
"I'm feeling great. Because I'm not drinking water, I have to find different ways to keep myself cool. Like putting a cool towel around my neck when I go outside."
"Yes, we do that," My dad replied, "Also, at night we drink a lot of water and eat fruit."
"Yeah, that's true."
"Yunz," my mom said, "Eat the shebekia."
Imagine a bite-sized funnel cake, covered and filled with honey and sugar, and then covered with little sesame seeds and sugar. You will get a small glimpse into the deliciousness of shebekia.
"Oh God," I said, "I have to learn how to make this."
"Oh Yunz," my mom said, "Ha ha ha."
I looked at her and raised an eyebrow.
"Oh," She said, realizing I was serious, "Sure, one day soon."
Breaking fast with a family is so much different than breaking fast by myself. The fact that we are all looking at the food, and that we know how hungry we all are, while we're in such close proximity, made me feel more connected to them. I wasn't merely a guest - I was finally family. I don't think that would have happened had I chosen to drink during Ramadan. This brings me to:
My Theory of Peace Corps
The purpose of Peace Corps is to encourage the volunteers to assist their communities through the use of an elaborate Stockholm Syndrome. The purpose is to make the volunteer identify with the community and to truly try to see problems through the eyes of the community, and not just as a volunteer. For instance, I think that by fasting just as they are, it helps me identify better with them. Because for things like health, I have to think of ways to keep myself healthy without resorting to drinking water and I come up with things like dipping towels in water while I'm working dipping hats in water; things like that.
But if I get back to America and have a craving for a couscous with a sheep's stomach lining, I will not be opposed to an involuntary psychiatric assessment, because that's messed up.
Saturday, August 14, 2010
Ramadan Challenge: Day 4
Food has a great significance in Islam. It is associated with
one’s relationship with God. Chapter 20 verse 89 of the
Qur’an states: “eat of the good and wholesome things that
We have provided for your sustenance, but indulge in no
excess therein”.
The physical body is a gift from God; it is given to humans
as an amanah (trust) to take care of for a fixed period. How
much food is consumed and the choice of food has a direct
impact on the physical and spiritual well-being of the person.
The food that you consume affects your behaviour and
personality. Wholesome, natural and healthy food assists
the development of a good personality. Over-eating has
long been frowned upon in Islam as it is thought to increase
worldly appetites and cause sluggishness, thereby ‘dulling’
the soul, hampering spiritual growth and increase physical
ailments.
~From The Ramadan Health And Spirituality Guide
I finished another day of fasting yesterday. It's funny, how easy it is to get used to not eating during the day. I think the reason is that once, in college, for a while, I tried the opposite fasting period that is followed by Theravada Buddhist monks. The sixth precept is to abstain from engaging in the taking of untimely meals. They interpret this to mean not eating past noon. Also, I was never one who had to eat a lot of food all of the time; a fact to which most people accused me of having an eating disorder.
From a Buddhist perspective, fasting can assist in focusing the mind. I have noticed something about fasting. If I go for a while without eating, then once I do eat, I notice the tastes of the foods so much more. Last night, when I broke my fast, I truly tasted my food. usually, without fasting, when I eat, my mind usually drifts back and forth between things I did during the day and things that I will do the next day.
I tasted the figs; the skin with its wondrous simplicity, followed by the slight grittiness of the seeded center. The pear was so subtle, but I could taste its sweetness, and the banana had I tasted was so sugary. The spaghetti that I made; I could taste that I had soaked them in salted water with olive oil, and the spices of the sauce climbed through my nose and twisted through my sinuses. My neighbor brought me over harira, a type of soup. It had a hint of a tomato base, and Even without seeing it, I could taste that there was celery in it. I tasted something else, I tasted a bitterness in it, and wondered if there was meat in it, too. I looked in my spoon and there was a tiny chunk of meat. He had brought over stuffed bread, and I could taste the sugar that they had sprinkled within the bread. Inside, I could taste the olives, the eggs, the peppers, the garlic, and the oil.
In case you're wondering what is inside the blue cup, it is a type fo sweet tea that I experimented with:
M. E. Graves' Guaranteed Cool Tea, no matter What:
In hot climates, I have noticed that people have developed tricks to keep cool. One of those tricks involves using certain spices in their food and tea. One of theirs is to put min leaves in their tea. The mint stimulates the mouth in such a way that it gives the feeling of coolness. I have learned that cinnamon can do the same thing.
What you need:
Two Lipton tea bags
1.5 Cups of sugar
1 Tablespoon of cinnamon
Place sugar and cinnamon into tea pitcher. Heat water to a boil and then add the teabags. Steep for five minutes, then pour tea into tea pitcher. Here, you can do two things; let cool by itself to have warm tea that tastes cool, or put into fridge to have cold tea with a wonderful icy kick.
P.S.: I managed to get myself invited to my host family's house tonight to break fast. I hope to get some pictures of the event.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Day One of Ramadan Challenge Completed
For my “Ramadan Challenge” series, I will try to narrow the scope of each blog to one particular thought on fasting each day. Some days will be more eventful than others will; some will result in quiet nights in the house and others will involve partying at a neighbor's house.
In my community, the fasting for Ramadan begins at 3:30 AM and continues until 7:30 PM. This means no food or water for sixteen hours. I must say that day one was a success, despite the fact that I may have started a little late due to not hearing the call to prayer. I did manage, nonetheless, to go the entire day without either food or water, though I did make sure to drink about ten liters of water up until the fasting time began. Sleeping until one in the afternoon and not going outside may have helped make things easier for me, too. At the end of the day, however, I have to admit that I was so hungry. As soon as 7:30 arrived, I pulled out a huge plate of fruits and made macaroni and cheese as well as noodles, and drank two liters of water.
However, something interesting happened at around 7:15 this evening. Some kids were walking around my house. I opened the door and we talked for a bit. They were waiting for their mother so they could go home. The first thing that I said wasn’t, “Oh my God, is it time to eat yet?” The first things I said was, “I have some fruits and chips in here if you want to have some when fasting is over. I think I did this because since I was fasting, and I knew they were fasting, I knew that they must have been hungry, too.
Some time passed, and another person came to the door. Even though I was in the process of making the macaroni and cheese and noodles, I set them aside, gave my new guest water, tea, and more fruits, and offered him more food until he refused. When I got to my macaroni and cheese, they were a little cold, but I didn’t mind.
Did the fact that I didn’t have food all day make me more willing to share what food I did have? Or was it merely a side effect of the delirium I suffered from my brain eating itself out of hunger.
Maybe one of the purposes of Ramadan is to make us more aware of the suffering of others. Maybe the purpose is to feel those pangs of hunger so that when we see that beggar on the street, we won’t be so quick to say no; or, if not giving money, we could at least buy them some bread or food. I’ve tended to notice that women tend to be more sincere about their need for money than men are, so maybe I could try to be less distrustful of them when I see them on the streets of Fes or Ouarzazate.
In my community, the fasting for Ramadan begins at 3:30 AM and continues until 7:30 PM. This means no food or water for sixteen hours. I must say that day one was a success, despite the fact that I may have started a little late due to not hearing the call to prayer. I did manage, nonetheless, to go the entire day without either food or water, though I did make sure to drink about ten liters of water up until the fasting time began. Sleeping until one in the afternoon and not going outside may have helped make things easier for me, too. At the end of the day, however, I have to admit that I was so hungry. As soon as 7:30 arrived, I pulled out a huge plate of fruits and made macaroni and cheese as well as noodles, and drank two liters of water.
However, something interesting happened at around 7:15 this evening. Some kids were walking around my house. I opened the door and we talked for a bit. They were waiting for their mother so they could go home. The first thing that I said wasn’t, “Oh my God, is it time to eat yet?” The first things I said was, “I have some fruits and chips in here if you want to have some when fasting is over. I think I did this because since I was fasting, and I knew they were fasting, I knew that they must have been hungry, too.
Some time passed, and another person came to the door. Even though I was in the process of making the macaroni and cheese and noodles, I set them aside, gave my new guest water, tea, and more fruits, and offered him more food until he refused. When I got to my macaroni and cheese, they were a little cold, but I didn’t mind.
Did the fact that I didn’t have food all day make me more willing to share what food I did have? Or was it merely a side effect of the delirium I suffered from my brain eating itself out of hunger.
Maybe one of the purposes of Ramadan is to make us more aware of the suffering of others. Maybe the purpose is to feel those pangs of hunger so that when we see that beggar on the street, we won’t be so quick to say no; or, if not giving money, we could at least buy them some bread or food. I’ve tended to notice that women tend to be more sincere about their need for money than men are, so maybe I could try to be less distrustful of them when I see them on the streets of Fes or Ouarzazate.
Friday, August 6, 2010
The Ramadan Challenge
From religioustolerance.org:
This is the fourth of the five pillars of Islam, the others being sahadah, salat, zakat, and hajj.
In Morocco, Ramadan begins on August 11th and ends on September 9th. From dawn until sunset, one is not allowed to eat, drink, smoke, or basically let anything pass through their mouths that is not intended for medical purposes. Because of this, many stores are closed for a good portion of the day, and many people sleep, turning their villages into ghost towns. By doing this, it allows to pass the time easier.
That’s all good, but why am I bringing this up? I am bringing this up because in the Peace Corps, we have three goals, the latter two are:
Many volunteers are going to take part in this tradition, and I am going to attempt it, as well. However, I will also try to incorporate my own religious practice into this project. In Buddhism, there are the standard five precepts; however, during fasting periods, many Buddhists try to follow the eight precepts. Obviously, given the culture that I am in, to refrain from eating meat, especially when going to others' houses, will be impossible.
During this month, I will try to take photos of the experiences that I have, as well as photos of the wonderful foods that the Moroccans make. I hope you all enjoy, and please wish me luck; Ramadan is based on the lunar calendar, and they say that August is the most difficult month to do Ramadan.
Ramadan is the holiest period in the Islamic year. It commemorates the ninth lunar month in the year 610 CE when revelations began from God, via the angel Gabriel, to the Prophet Muhammad. These revelations in Arabic were memorized by Muhammad, passed on orally, and later written down as the Qur'an.
During this month, Muslims believe that the gates of Heaven are open, the gates of Hell are closed, and devils are chained up in Hell so they cannot tempt believers on Earth. Muslims believe that because this month has been blessed by Allah, any good actions during Ramadan will bring them a greater reward.
During this month, almost all Muslims over the age of 12 are expected to "abstain from food, drink and other sensual pleasures" including smoking, gambling, etc. The fast extends from the first light of dawn until sunset.
This is the fourth of the five pillars of Islam, the others being sahadah, salat, zakat, and hajj.
In Morocco, Ramadan begins on August 11th and ends on September 9th. From dawn until sunset, one is not allowed to eat, drink, smoke, or basically let anything pass through their mouths that is not intended for medical purposes. Because of this, many stores are closed for a good portion of the day, and many people sleep, turning their villages into ghost towns. By doing this, it allows to pass the time easier.
That’s all good, but why am I bringing this up? I am bringing this up because in the Peace Corps, we have three goals, the latter two are:
1.) Helping promote a better understanding of Americans on the part of the peoples served, and
2.) Helping promote a better understanding of other peoples on the part of Americans.
Many volunteers are going to take part in this tradition, and I am going to attempt it, as well. However, I will also try to incorporate my own religious practice into this project. In Buddhism, there are the standard five precepts; however, during fasting periods, many Buddhists try to follow the eight precepts. Obviously, given the culture that I am in, to refrain from eating meat, especially when going to others' houses, will be impossible.
During this month, I will try to take photos of the experiences that I have, as well as photos of the wonderful foods that the Moroccans make. I hope you all enjoy, and please wish me luck; Ramadan is based on the lunar calendar, and they say that August is the most difficult month to do Ramadan.
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
Words
The funny thing about meeting up with people that I haven’t seen in a while is that I have a tendency to see them how they were and not how they are. We had originally divided into three groups of language speakers: Moroccan Arabic, Tamazight, and Tashelheet. Being a Tamazight speaker, I had imagined being able to converse with my fellows Tamazight speakers freely; but dialects don’t work that way. Consonants are pronounced differently, leaving many of us to question little words that we hear. Sometimes, this creates a tendency for two things regarding language: I either pity how the speaker isn’t learning, or I fear that I either never really learned it. After a while, this can create friction in the group. I know many people may not want to say this out loud, but I got the feeling that those little things began to get to us around today’s mark. Again, I will speak of only my experience.
During our free weekend, I learned that an extended host family member lived in the city we were working in, so I sent a text to him and told him my hotel. As I was working in my room, a friend came in and told me he is waiting for me in the lobby. I went down and greeted him the standard Moroccan way to greet a family member; we kissed on the cheeks and I grabbed his hand and led him out of the hotel. I got to his house and met his wife, who I found out is pregnant. Being a health volunteer, I used this as an opportunity to explain a few basic things. Regarding food, I explained that it is good to eat tomatoes, potatoes, bread, and skinless chicken, as examples. I also explained the benefits of meditation. I finished lunch and returned to the hotel.
Today, I woke up after the fifth day of not getting much sleep. I haven’t been eating too much here, and I was hungry, tired, and a bit angry. It is perhaps because of this that I stopped caring about controlling my speech. While in a class, I was part of a group that was supposed to draw a picture of a large Moroccan family as compared to a small Moroccan family. Throughout the experience, I began thinking of all of the things the children of Morocco have done, both to me and to other volunteers. Why do they do that, I thought, why aren’t their parents watching them? While presenting, I made a careless joke, which offended someone in the group. But instead of apologizing, I got defensive. Why are you offended, I thought, I know you make jokes like that, too. I remember one of the things the teacher said to us.
“Don’t expect the people to listen to you yet.”
“It takes time for people to change.”
We left the class for break, but the thought stayed with me. It’s not that I couldn’t let it go; I didn’t want to let it go. I was so tired that any thought in my mind would keep me going through the day and not fall asleep. The defensiveness turned into anger. Hypocrite, I thought, how dare you get angry with me? We returned to class and I sat there, fuming. As the teacher was speaking, I heard the music from outside. Why didn’t somebody close the door, I thought. I got up in the middle of her speaking, walked down the hall, and slammed the door. The others watched as I stormed back into the room.
“Are you okay?” They asked.
“I’m fine.” I said.
But I wasn’t fine. I was angry. I imagined Moroccan kids opening the door again, and me running out and yelling at them for being so inconsiderate. I go to lunch and get mad because the water isn’t on the table and the food isn’t ready. We finish class and I get angry that I promised that I would go to his house again. I was fortunate enough to have Princess Leia for company, but the anger had stuck with me throughout the day. Anger piled upon anger, until it was all that was on my mind. I want to go home, I thought, everyone here hates me, the people are never going to listen to me.
All of life goes on with or without me.
We make it to the man’s house, and they lay out a blanket for us in the yard. I felt the grass on my back like little pinpricks. I watched as birds flew above me, as the figs swayed in the wind. I listened as the birds flew above me, the sound of their wing flaps like the sound of sheets being thrown over a bed, the smell of watered soil and wet trees. Dinner comes out, and the wife opens the tagine to reveal skinless chicken cooked in potatoes and lemon, and I see that she had set aside for herself a plate of tomatoes. They had listened to me. And the knowledge of that fact filled me with a sense of both pride and responsibility. The thoughts of the man and his wife take over the thoughts of my anger. The anger leaves me, leaving only pride.
I lie down again on the grass and let this thought overcome me. I slowly began to think of what happened throughout the day, and how I had let my ego get the best of me again. I began to think of what I said that day, and what I thought. I began to think of how I was letting the thoughts of anger fill my mind, and so I let them go, one by one, and decided that in my state of bliss, would apologize to the volunteer for the offense. I watched as afternoon turned to evening and realized that everything still went on as it did. It didn’t matter if I was angry or sad or bitter or lonely or proud or happy; the grass still pricks at my skin when I lie on it, the birds still fly above me, animals still rush through the bushes.
All of life goes on with or without me. Let it go, I thought, let it go.
I realized that I still needed to let go. So what if the feelings in me at the moment were now of pride? Pride is an emotion to which ego still clings. A mind filled with happiness is just as bad as a mind filled with anger. It doesn’t matter which it is filled with, if it is filled with things that were, it can never experience what is.
All of life goes on with or without me. Let it go, I thought, let it go.
English words, Tamazight words, hurtful words, prideful words. Why have I filled my life with so many words?
Evening arrives. I watch the orange and gray clouds roll over a pink hued sky. I feel a rain drop, but that is all. I forgot the word for cloud, and so it becomes one thing with what I forget is sky. I forget names. I forget things, and they all become one thing, one nameless thing. I continue to imagine, for a moment, more raindrops, falling onto me. I forget the name for me, I forget the name for the things pricking my back. I imagine each raindrop taking with it a piece of my body, and together, we fall onto the ground around us, and I become linked with the Moroccan soil. I leave all of the thoughts of any successes and failures behind.
Let it go, I thought, let it go.
During our free weekend, I learned that an extended host family member lived in the city we were working in, so I sent a text to him and told him my hotel. As I was working in my room, a friend came in and told me he is waiting for me in the lobby. I went down and greeted him the standard Moroccan way to greet a family member; we kissed on the cheeks and I grabbed his hand and led him out of the hotel. I got to his house and met his wife, who I found out is pregnant. Being a health volunteer, I used this as an opportunity to explain a few basic things. Regarding food, I explained that it is good to eat tomatoes, potatoes, bread, and skinless chicken, as examples. I also explained the benefits of meditation. I finished lunch and returned to the hotel.
Today, I woke up after the fifth day of not getting much sleep. I haven’t been eating too much here, and I was hungry, tired, and a bit angry. It is perhaps because of this that I stopped caring about controlling my speech. While in a class, I was part of a group that was supposed to draw a picture of a large Moroccan family as compared to a small Moroccan family. Throughout the experience, I began thinking of all of the things the children of Morocco have done, both to me and to other volunteers. Why do they do that, I thought, why aren’t their parents watching them? While presenting, I made a careless joke, which offended someone in the group. But instead of apologizing, I got defensive. Why are you offended, I thought, I know you make jokes like that, too. I remember one of the things the teacher said to us.
“Don’t expect the people to listen to you yet.”
“It takes time for people to change.”
We left the class for break, but the thought stayed with me. It’s not that I couldn’t let it go; I didn’t want to let it go. I was so tired that any thought in my mind would keep me going through the day and not fall asleep. The defensiveness turned into anger. Hypocrite, I thought, how dare you get angry with me? We returned to class and I sat there, fuming. As the teacher was speaking, I heard the music from outside. Why didn’t somebody close the door, I thought. I got up in the middle of her speaking, walked down the hall, and slammed the door. The others watched as I stormed back into the room.
“Are you okay?” They asked.
“I’m fine.” I said.
But I wasn’t fine. I was angry. I imagined Moroccan kids opening the door again, and me running out and yelling at them for being so inconsiderate. I go to lunch and get mad because the water isn’t on the table and the food isn’t ready. We finish class and I get angry that I promised that I would go to his house again. I was fortunate enough to have Princess Leia for company, but the anger had stuck with me throughout the day. Anger piled upon anger, until it was all that was on my mind. I want to go home, I thought, everyone here hates me, the people are never going to listen to me.
All of life goes on with or without me.
We make it to the man’s house, and they lay out a blanket for us in the yard. I felt the grass on my back like little pinpricks. I watched as birds flew above me, as the figs swayed in the wind. I listened as the birds flew above me, the sound of their wing flaps like the sound of sheets being thrown over a bed, the smell of watered soil and wet trees. Dinner comes out, and the wife opens the tagine to reveal skinless chicken cooked in potatoes and lemon, and I see that she had set aside for herself a plate of tomatoes. They had listened to me. And the knowledge of that fact filled me with a sense of both pride and responsibility. The thoughts of the man and his wife take over the thoughts of my anger. The anger leaves me, leaving only pride.
I lie down again on the grass and let this thought overcome me. I slowly began to think of what happened throughout the day, and how I had let my ego get the best of me again. I began to think of what I said that day, and what I thought. I began to think of how I was letting the thoughts of anger fill my mind, and so I let them go, one by one, and decided that in my state of bliss, would apologize to the volunteer for the offense. I watched as afternoon turned to evening and realized that everything still went on as it did. It didn’t matter if I was angry or sad or bitter or lonely or proud or happy; the grass still pricks at my skin when I lie on it, the birds still fly above me, animals still rush through the bushes.
All of life goes on with or without me. Let it go, I thought, let it go.
I realized that I still needed to let go. So what if the feelings in me at the moment were now of pride? Pride is an emotion to which ego still clings. A mind filled with happiness is just as bad as a mind filled with anger. It doesn’t matter which it is filled with, if it is filled with things that were, it can never experience what is.
All of life goes on with or without me. Let it go, I thought, let it go.
English words, Tamazight words, hurtful words, prideful words. Why have I filled my life with so many words?
Evening arrives. I watch the orange and gray clouds roll over a pink hued sky. I feel a rain drop, but that is all. I forgot the word for cloud, and so it becomes one thing with what I forget is sky. I forget names. I forget things, and they all become one thing, one nameless thing. I continue to imagine, for a moment, more raindrops, falling onto me. I forget the name for me, I forget the name for the things pricking my back. I imagine each raindrop taking with it a piece of my body, and together, we fall onto the ground around us, and I become linked with the Moroccan soil. I leave all of the thoughts of any successes and failures behind.
Let it go, I thought, let it go.
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