Edgware Road, London |
It was warm, the kind of warm you'd appreciate
after living in London for a while, a warm long july day in 2011, which was
also the first day of Ramadan, and my first ramadan away from the east.
I remember all the conversations that led to
that day about what seemed to be the impossibility of fasting the long hours of
the day; not accustomed to the European summer, I found it difficult at first
to grasp the idea that fasting 17 hours a day would be possible.
I didn't think of the fact that life during
Ramadan in London would resume as normal, and how the smell of coffee,
cigarettes and bread would be hovering in the air I breath. I forgot that in
London, unlike other cities I've witnessed Ramadan in, the majority would not
be fasting, I forgot.
I also did not think that when it was time to
break the fast, I wouldn't have my TV turned on Sharjah TV channel with their
famous iftar ritual every year, in fact, I forgot I didn't own a TV and
that my fasting would break with me googling the time of Maghrib and
comparing and contrasting the different timings between the different
time-zones of the city.
It did not feel special at first.
I remember situating myself in front of my
laptop with some strawberries and water since I had no dates and yogurt, and
searching on youtube for the Adhan that most resembles home. The moment
I'd break my fast, I'd pray and then call my friends and socialise a little
with them before it was time to catch the last tube back to my apartment.
It was difficult the first couple of days,
until I decided that googling Ramadan in London, was probably not the best way
to spend the holy month in a city that was slowly becoming home. And so began
my journey in trying to ease the binaries that rested within me about the East
and the West, slowly by taking short walks around my neighborhood and trying to
spy with my little eye fellow muslims. As soon as I reached the bus stop in my
beautiful islington neighborhood, a woman too busy reading her novel and
twirling her hair smiled at me, and said Ramadan Mubarak. At that
moment, I couldn't tell if she fasted as well, or if she was indeed a 'fellow Muslim', in fact, I ridiculed my very
attempt of trying to 'type' her as any kind but a fellow human being. And there
it was, the bus journey that took me to the centre of what was then my universe
showed me a sense of collectivity in a society that is often dubbed as
individualistic. I found myself seeking that sense of closeness that I often
reject priding myself that I belong to the 'I' alone, and nothing else. I found
myself walking to Edgware road, the famous Arab street that always offers the
best and the worst of what it means to be an Arab. I actually found
myself looking for the commonalities rather than the differences I usually feed
on, That Ramadan, I became very
collective.
It was difficult at times to feel the
spirituality of fasting, when the coffee smell from the neighboring cafe is
almost blinding to all my senses, or when the parade of the teenage drunks
starts marching on my street on friday night, indeed it was very difficult to
the point that I wanted badly to go back to Dubai for just a while, just to
feel the presence of God again. But then I found my solace in the words written
by Him that tell us, and told me that day that "To GOD belongs
the east and the west; wherever you go there will be the presence of GOD. GOD
is Omnipresent, Omniscient. (2:115)"
Ramadan is beautiful in London this year
as well, and though I stopped looking for commonalities between me and this
city, I find solace in knowing that He is here, like He is there, without the
need to keep googling Him.
This post was written for Art Dubai's Blog, as part of their "Posting Ramadan" Series. Original Post can be found here: http://www.artdubai.ae/blog/googling-ramadan-by-mariam-wissam-al-dabbagh/
2 comments:
Beautiful article. I've experienced Ramadan in both cities and see where you're coming from.
Thank you Jnana.. Appreciate it..Lets see where next Ramadan will take us..
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