Hello angry-lings. My sister gave me a good idea for my next post, as over the last couple of days Ramadan began. Kul sena wa antum b'kheer y'all. I say the "last couple of days" because different countries/sects/even individual families start the month according to one of two different philosophies. Because the moon cycle is different across the globe, according to where it's positioned in relation to the sun (bear with me while I get my science on), some people believe that you should begin the month according to the new moon in your specific area. On the other hand, there's a large group of Muslims that follow the status of the moon in Mecca. Seemingly, Morocco follows the former philosophy. However I know my family back home follows the latter. I personally don't think one single shit should be given which method you subscribe to and that it is yet another thing that only divides people. I've witnessed pretty inflammatory debates revolving around this extremely...EXTREMELY marginal issue. So my advice, get over it and try to think about what this month is supposed to be about.
AnYWaY the month kicked off yesterday for the maghreb and as I was walking to take a final exam (on the first day of fasting, I know) I noted a change in the city. Everything was quieter, the people on the streets were calm, I even felt like people were talking to each other in a softer tone. WHAT HAPPENED TO THE ANGER?!!? No just kidding, calm down. This subtle transformation made me think about the changes that Ramadan brought about to my house growing up, namely the sudden need to circumvent. Those who have fasted before will agree with me that just by the sheer practice of fasting you get 10 times hungrier than you normally would. On a normal, non-Ramadan, day I probably don't really eat until noon or 1 in the afternoon and I'm all good. However during Ramadan for some reason I'm fuckin BUGGIN OUT by 11 AM, and when you're an 11 year old kid that psychological conflict is amplified. Therefore, growing up all Ramadan meant to me was sneaking into the kitchen and swallowing a couple cookies whole or pretending to use the bathroom while I hold my face under the faucet for 20 seconds. I like to call it "Ramadan for a kid that was never quite convinced". If you read this Pops, I'm sorry that I lied, but sometimes you just gotta eat a bag of doritos to survive the day.
The funny thing is that this made me SO guilty. I honestly really wanted to fast. So bad that I'd tell my teachers in middle school that I'm fasting and that I wanted to stay in a classroom during lunch so I wouldn't be tempted. That usually lasted about a day, 2 max. I remember one time on the first or second day of Ramadan I was in a classroom attempting to do some homework while all of my peers were feasting on assorted terribly unhealthy but delicious deerpark middle school cafeteria food, and I saw a mostly eaten bag of Lays potato chips. I'm not sure why it was left there, unfinished and not in a garbage can, but I must have stared at it for 10 minutes before I creeped over there and ate the remaining 4 chips. I ruined a whole day of solidarity with a billion people over 4 potato chips. And those chips ate at me much more than I ate at them.
I still ask myself why I got that Muslim guilt. Is it Allah and the angels on my shoulders pounding that feeling into me? Nah, never been a fan of that explanation. I'd like to think it's a combination of two things. On the one hand, I've always liked the idea of this month. It's a very spiritual time where a large group of people undertake a simple burden and get to feel, to a certain degree, a taste of what it would be like to be less fortunate. Of course, there are many people who not only engorge themselves once the sun sets but they also become nocturnal. Sleeping during the day and staying up all night so they feel little to no discomfort. This is not only terrible for your health, but missing the point all together and is JUST as bad as me sneaking into the kitchen and eating during the day (imo). On the other hand, the guilt comes from wanting to stand in solidarity with other people that are like me, and especially my father cause I got some mad love for my dad.
So yes, I actually did fast yesterday and it's 9:00 AM today and I'm going pretty strong I guess. As a sort of catharsis I'm going to try and fast until I get back to the states in two weeks. Maybe that'll take away some of that guilt that still lingers from my gluttonous childhood. Or maybe after two days I'll revert back to that 11 year old boy who's just GOTTA get his dorito on.
If you're reading this I probably miss you a lot, and I'll see you soon.
P.S. Since we never take couple-y pictures I thought this one was reason to celebrate. Because that's the measure of a good relationship right? Couple-y pictures? Right.
AnYWaY the month kicked off yesterday for the maghreb and as I was walking to take a final exam (on the first day of fasting, I know) I noted a change in the city. Everything was quieter, the people on the streets were calm, I even felt like people were talking to each other in a softer tone. WHAT HAPPENED TO THE ANGER?!!? No just kidding, calm down. This subtle transformation made me think about the changes that Ramadan brought about to my house growing up, namely the sudden need to circumvent. Those who have fasted before will agree with me that just by the sheer practice of fasting you get 10 times hungrier than you normally would. On a normal, non-Ramadan, day I probably don't really eat until noon or 1 in the afternoon and I'm all good. However during Ramadan for some reason I'm fuckin BUGGIN OUT by 11 AM, and when you're an 11 year old kid that psychological conflict is amplified. Therefore, growing up all Ramadan meant to me was sneaking into the kitchen and swallowing a couple cookies whole or pretending to use the bathroom while I hold my face under the faucet for 20 seconds. I like to call it "Ramadan for a kid that was never quite convinced". If you read this Pops, I'm sorry that I lied, but sometimes you just gotta eat a bag of doritos to survive the day.
The funny thing is that this made me SO guilty. I honestly really wanted to fast. So bad that I'd tell my teachers in middle school that I'm fasting and that I wanted to stay in a classroom during lunch so I wouldn't be tempted. That usually lasted about a day, 2 max. I remember one time on the first or second day of Ramadan I was in a classroom attempting to do some homework while all of my peers were feasting on assorted terribly unhealthy but delicious deerpark middle school cafeteria food, and I saw a mostly eaten bag of Lays potato chips. I'm not sure why it was left there, unfinished and not in a garbage can, but I must have stared at it for 10 minutes before I creeped over there and ate the remaining 4 chips. I ruined a whole day of solidarity with a billion people over 4 potato chips. And those chips ate at me much more than I ate at them.
I still ask myself why I got that Muslim guilt. Is it Allah and the angels on my shoulders pounding that feeling into me? Nah, never been a fan of that explanation. I'd like to think it's a combination of two things. On the one hand, I've always liked the idea of this month. It's a very spiritual time where a large group of people undertake a simple burden and get to feel, to a certain degree, a taste of what it would be like to be less fortunate. Of course, there are many people who not only engorge themselves once the sun sets but they also become nocturnal. Sleeping during the day and staying up all night so they feel little to no discomfort. This is not only terrible for your health, but missing the point all together and is JUST as bad as me sneaking into the kitchen and eating during the day (imo). On the other hand, the guilt comes from wanting to stand in solidarity with other people that are like me, and especially my father cause I got some mad love for my dad.
So yes, I actually did fast yesterday and it's 9:00 AM today and I'm going pretty strong I guess. As a sort of catharsis I'm going to try and fast until I get back to the states in two weeks. Maybe that'll take away some of that guilt that still lingers from my gluttonous childhood. Or maybe after two days I'll revert back to that 11 year old boy who's just GOTTA get his dorito on.
If you're reading this I probably miss you a lot, and I'll see you soon.
P.S. Since we never take couple-y pictures I thought this one was reason to celebrate. Because that's the measure of a good relationship right? Couple-y pictures? Right.
This was in Chefchaouen, definitely the most beautiful place I saw in Morocco.
