In Kampala we are waiting to see if we're celebrating Eid, the end of Ramadan, with a day off tomorrow or Saturday. If it's Saturday, you understand, it's not really a day off in quite the same way. But we don't know yet because there were confusing communiqués that went out today, and the way it stood when I came home was that we'd know by 8pm. We're waiting to see when the moon gets spotted. I'm not really clear if it needs to be spotted in Saudi Arabia or here, because I read a couple of different versions of what happens. Eid is always a public holiday here, but the date isn't set ahead of time, and apparently every year there is this waiting.
In Haiti we were often not sure if we'd have school the next day, though the reasons were different there. But that part feels familiar, the uncertainty. I came home with all my books just in case it was for the weekend. We used to do that, and tell the kids to, all the time in Haiti just in case the next day's classes got canceled.
As I was writing the paragraph above, and wondering whether I really even know where or who I am, as I think about whether or not I will have to work tomorrow, the WhatsApp message came through: no school.
I didn't fast, not being a Muslim, so the end of Ramadan doesn't mean a return to normal for me. But for so many around me, that's exactly what it means, the end of this special month. I went looking for an Eid poem and I found one here from 2009, when it fell in April, like this year.
Eid Mubarak! And check out the roundup here.
11 comments:
Ruth, while knowing that some of the children I taught celebrated Ramadan, I did not really know much more about it. Thanks for providing information and adding a poem. I am always amazed by your experiences in your different locales. Have a wonderful weekend.
Thank you for giving me a new way to think about waiting and hunger, Ruth, and introduced me to a new poet. The final lines of Ansari's poem about those in need:
"They toll in silence, tales unsung
like empty bells without a tongue" are heart breaking.
Thanks for sharing this moving poem. The lines about the moon, how it changes, were fascinating and beautiful. This post is a lovely glimpse of a world I know too little about.
I didn't know very much about Ramadan so just got a book from my library for children, to show my granddaughters, too. It's Zahra's Blessing, a Ramadan Story by Shirin Shamsi & included what seems to be the important parts. It's always interesting to hear about your experiences, Ruth. Thank you. I loved the part in the poem that described the moon's importance.
Thank you, Ruth. I miss Ramadan and Eid, having lived in the Middle East for eight years. Now where I live it's not as obvious, like it is for you in Kampala. I appreciate Ansari's poem and how her hunger during Ramadan makes her more empathetic to hungry people: "but elsewhere hunger's bloody barb / still rides and rowels those in need."
I'm looking forward to your hosting Poetry Friday next week.
Thanks for sharing some of your life, Ruth. And that poem you linked to, with the shadow claiming the silver limbs (or something like that), is gorgeous. The not knowing would be hard for me, though the pandemic certainly taught me to be more comfortable with uncertainty!
We enjoyed a day off too! I had a meeting with other librarians at a fancy bakery and the beautiful dresses Muslim women were wearing as they came into the shop were just stunning. Thanks for the poem about Eid. I need one in English for my students so that I can share something with them. And, a day off? Yes, please.
Imagine the discipline! Imagine the relief and appreciation for the everyday of eating. Way to float gracefully over all the uncertainty, Ruth. You are right here with us. : )
Eid Mubarak!
Thank you for sharing your musings about your ever-evolving sense of place. You will always be at home here in the Poetry Friday world!
A wonderful choice of poem, Ruth. I loved the final lines and the way they reinforce the compassion that fasting can ignite.
I so admire you and the work you do.
Mmm...moonlight limns the month's demise... Thank you for this post, Ruth.
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