Ramadan: The Holy Month of Fasting

I remember my first Ramadan as clearly as if it were yesterday. And by this I mean the first time I kept a fast during Ramadan, the holy month of fasting for Muslims. I was nine years old and I lived in Prince Albert, Saskatchewan, a beautiful city on the prairies with long, hot, vey dry summers. The summer of the first Ramadan I fasted, the sun was setting around 9:30 PM.

When the sun rises or sets is very important to a kid who is fasting. The fast begins at dawn and ends at sunset. So on a typical Ramadan summer day you could begin fasting around four o’clock in the morning and break your fast at nine thirty at night. This means you wouldn’t have anything to eat or drink for fifteen hours or more–which can sound a little like you’re a prisoner in a very unpleasant jail cell.

But in my case, I was free. I was freely choosing to fast, and I was so excited to join the grown-ups in observing a tradition that seemed thrillingly mysterious and important. I was going to be part of an exclusive club, and I remember feeling incredibly proud of myself. My older sister was also fasting, and her example inspired me to fast.

Only things didn’t go exactly as planned.

My mom woke me up early in the morning, when it was still dark outside. I was bleary-eyed and cranky, but then I remembered that I had begged her to wake me up so I wouldn’t miss my first fast. She fried homemade donuts and made peanut-butter sandwiches for us to eat with glasses of cold milk. The kitchen was filled with the sweet smell of donuts. I didn’t want any milk (just the donuts!), but my mother assured me I would thank her for making me both eat and drink so early in the morning. When we finished our early breakfast, my sister and I brushed our teeth and made the intention to fast, a simple prayer that amounts to saying, “I intend to fast this day in Ramadan.”

We stumbled through the morning prayer and I fell back into bed.

The next time I woke up, I remembered another reason why the day of my first fast was so important. I’d been looking forward to going over to my friend’s house all week. Sara lived on the other side of the city and our parents were also friends, so our two families had planned to spend the day together.

What I forgot was that my friend was Hindu, not Muslim, so she wouldn’t be observing Ramadan with me. She’d planned for us to spend the afternoon at the park near her house. This was a special treat because the park had a huge jungle gym, a merry-go-round, loads of swings and a splash pad.

I was still very full from my donut and peanut-butter breakfast, so it was easy for me to join in the fun. We ran around the park for hours–swinging, climbing, chasing each other, playing tag. But a few hours later, it hit me.

The sun was beating down on my head. I was boiling hot, and I felt exhausted. Sara and I flopped down on the grass just as an ice-cream cart rolled by. Sara offered to buy me an orange Popsicle, my favorite flavor. Right away, I said yes. Then I remembered my fast and regretfully changed my mind. There was a golden retriever lolling on the grass in front of us, his pink tongue hanging out of his mouth. He was panting in the heat, which was exactly what I felt like doing–panting. But I couldn’t break my fast in front of everyone.

I told Sara I had to use the washroom, so I ran back to her house while she waited.

All the parents were in the backyard, so no one knew I had come back to the house. I made sure no one was looking, and then I poured myself a glass of cold water from the tap. It was so good that I immediately drank a second one. Then I washed the glass and hid it away and ran all the way back to the park.

I had just done something terrible. I had intentionally broken my fast because I couldn’t keep it any longer. I had been fasting for about eight hours and that was as long as I could last. Of course, I didn’t eat or drink anything again until sunset. Those two glasses of water had transformed me–first with energy, then with a heavy load of guilt.