Think fast

When you're hungry, you find new meanings
in everything.  Thanks for sharing
this picture, Dad.

Back in high school, one of my best friends was a guy named Melih.  His family was from Turkey, and they were Muslim.  I didn't know much about Islam, but one day, he mentioned he was fasting.  At our high school, everyone ate lunch at the same time, in the cafeteria.  It seemed lonely to skip lunch every day.  I offered to fast with him.  Mainly because I was a teenager and liked to surprise people.  But also because we were close, and it seemed to easier to fast when you had others around you doing the same thing.

My version of fasting was not by the "book," so to speak.  I was on a 5AM-5PM fasting schedule--no food or drinks during daylight.  I'd wake up at 4:55AM, gulp down some gatorade, maybe a few bites of dry cereal if I was really ambitious, and then wait until 5PM to have anything else.  Ramadan fell during basketball season, which was tough.  But I had the superhuman energy of a 15-year-old, so I managed.

Fasting forced me to appreciate how easy my life was.  I always had access to food and water; I could fulfill my basic desires without giving it a second thought.  Hunger at first was distracting, but over the month I started to feel like I was conquering it psychologically.  I felt more aware and more in control.

So I fasted again the following year. I liked to take a month for internal reflection and building mental fortitude, if you will.  And then again my freshman year of college.  It was a big transition for me, and I needed something to help me look inward and focus.  I would a thermos of hot chocolate to my acapella rehearsal with me so that when the sun went down (it was later than year, closer to 7PM), I could start sipping away at it discreetly.  When rehearsal ended, I would dash out for something more substantial.  

When I came to Bangladesh, that's was when I saw for the first time what "Ramazan" (bangla for Ramadan) meant in a Muslim country.  Everyone adjusts to accommodate fasting.  The work day ends at 3PM (and productivity drops by 12 or 1PM).  The staff canteen is empty.  The food stalls on the streets put up curtains so no one has to see food.  But what surprised me the most was that Ramazan was a month of solidarity and community. It wasn’t isolating like it had seemed in North Carolina and Boston.  You break fast with "iftar," and it’s a ritual that you do with family and friends each night, for 30 nights.  There are variations, but there are standard dishes that one eats at Iftar--dates, lemon juice, a mixture of puffed rice (muri), beans, onions, and deep fried vegetables, and halim, a thick, spicy lentil soup.  And jelapi, like churros soaked in sugar syrup, my greatest weakness.

Luckily, people who aren’t fasting are allowed to partake in Iftar.  Last year I even hosted Iftar a few times, buying up all the staples from the multitude of vendors that crowd the streets, just for this month.  The staff at North End invited me to come one night and take Iftar with them, in the back, staff-only area.  These invitations made me feel like family; it felt like I was an insider versus the new kid on the block.

This year, I felt that way even more.  I have traditions!  I have people that I’ve had iftar with three years running.  Last week, I had iftar at Naveed’s house with Farhan.  The food was tasty and the jokes many.  We have a new new kid of the block to tease.  It’s Amanda’s first Ramazan in Bangladesh.  In Mali, where she lived for two years, there is a special tea that people drink at Iftar.  In Bangladesh, there is no such thing, but Naveed and I decided to create a “special tea” just for her (it is our “specialty” to mess with people).  I’m not sure exactly what are in it (maybe a twist of orange and some cloves), but it certainly didn’t have the herbal benefits that we promised.  Placebo effect is a powerful thing—we were all giggly for the rest of the evening.

The fun and sense of belonging made me want to go still further—I wanted to fast again.  Partially because it would make Iftar more meaningful, and help me be more in sync with my colleagues.  So I decided I would give it a go.  How hard could it be?

Day 1 I had a few misfires.  I managed to get up at 3:20AM to chug my Gatorade, but after a presentation by an international guest, a senior BRAC leader grabbed me and asked if I’d mind taking the guest to lunch on his behalf.  I realized that because everyone was fasting, there was no one else to take her to lunch!  In my version of Ramazan (and I think this is true for at least some Muslims), you are not supposed to let your fasting be an inconvenience for others.  If you travel and stay at someone else’s house, you should not impose it on them.  Instead you can make up the fasting another day (or not).  So, I could not let my fasting be an inconvenience.  And in return, got a free lunch, with a woman doing groundbreaking with on insurance products for the poor!

Day 2, I had made a plan with the North End staff again.  Iftar was at 6:54PM.  By 5:30PM, I was dying.  The hunger was bearable but I was so thirsty!  The worst part in my mind is the ten minutes before Iftar, when the food is laid out in front of you but you aren’t allowed to eat yet.  Then we heard the azan (call to prayer), signaling that dusk had arrived. I went through a glass of water and sweet lemon juice before digging into the food.  We had pretty typical Iftar foods, plus a lot of fresh foods like mango, apple and banana.  There was a couple at the table next to us that bought four brownies and two cinnamon rolls.  I was inspired to get a brownie by the road.

Working was fasting was more difficult than I expected.  The combination of the early wake up, dehydration, and hunger wears you down.  The biggest difference I noticed in myself is that I seemed more agreeable than usual.  It takes energy to debate and argue.  I am not sure if my peers would consider this good or bad.  I also felt like people around me that weren’t fasting, Shazzad and Amanda for example, were talking at warped speed and hyperactive.  I am assuming it’s just because I wasn’t moving at my normal pace. 

Day 3 I got home at 6:50, only to find that my roommate was out and I’d forgotten my key.  I knew my landlord, who lives downstairs and has an extra set of the keys, was sitting down for his Iftar meal, and far be it from me to come between a hungry man and his food.  I was hungry too, but out of cash.  I had a dinner engagement at 7:30 and had to hurry to get ready, stop by the ATM, etc.  Shazzad always refers to muri (puffed rice) as an “emergency food,” and at that moment I finally understood what he meant.  In 30 seconds, I had mixed muri with chanachur (spicy chex mix) and some mustard oil and salt, and was happily scarfing it down.  It helped, but I was still scatterbrained on the way to dinner.  I forgot my phone and had to go back.  My “hanger” (hunger-induced anger) also kicked in, and I had reel it in.  Dinner was at the grill house, this awesome new restaurant where they serve up huge plates of grilled meat and special breads (rumali roti is this very thin, soft bread, kind of like a big, floury tortilla).  Just what I needed to bring my blood sugar level back up to its happy place.

Day 4 I fasted, but not quite until sun down.  I had an appointment at North End at 5:30PM, and again this inconvenience clause kicked in.  Plus North End just added a delicious date bar to their menu, and it’s almost as addictive as jelapi.  Despite my defecting, the staff share their iftar with me again a few hours later.  We all stand in the back, sipping fresh mango juice and taking handfuls of the muri mixture out of a huge metal bowl.  Reminds me of the old days when I practically lived at North End, and they didn’t have so many customers yet.  They are now opening their 4^th location, so times have changed.

Many people do this for 30 days, but a surprising number of people also drop out.  People seem to make deals with themselves—I’ll give up alcohol, but not cigarettes (one technically should give up cigarettes and well, never drink).  If you are sick or menstruating, you are not supposed to fast.  A lot of people get sick, including a suspiciously high onset of blood sugar problems that essentially preclude fasting.

It’s a good thing that I’m not in Dhaka.  Once I get in my head that I’m going to do something, I want to do it 100%.  No dropping out.   I barely let myself take the elevator while fasting.  Nice to know that I’m as stubborn and competitive with myself as I was 10 years ago.

Here across the border in Kolkata, the clock is not governed by Ramazan’s schedule.  Amanda and I arrived last night.  Given how much I hear about how amazing the food is here, I intend to make up my missed meals for the past four days!  As fast as possible.