Ramadan Mabrook!

We're almost in the last week of Ramadan, and the favorite pastime of my local shopkeeper friends, plus every other Moroccan I talk to, consists of asking me if I’m observing the holy month through the dawn-to-dusk fast. I’ve taken to laughing, saying shweea (a little) and changing the subject.

The truth is no, I’m not fasting. First off, as any close friends and family can tell you, Caitlyn with low blood sugar levels is not a pretty sight. I certainly wouldn’t want to be around myself after nearly fifteen hours of no food and no water. Second, the Ramadan fast requires overhauling one’s daily rhythms to an extent that I’m just not willing to do.

Muslim Moroccans typically sleep in late, unless they’re unfortunate enough to run a food stand, in which case they rise a little earlier and sit all morning and early afternoon surrounded by the smells of off-limit fruits and sweets. A cannon and the sunset call to prayer announce the breaking of the fast (iftar) around 7:00pm these days (earlier in the month, it was closer to 7:20pm). Families gather for a small, traditional meal of such items as dried dates and milk (for fortification), harira (a type of tomato soup), hard-boiled eggs, sweet breads and shabakia (honey-soaked dough sprinkled with sesame seeds). Iftar is probably followed up with the watching of Ramadan sitcoms on TV, and around 9:30pm people take to the streets for promenading, tea-drinking, Parcheesi-playing, chain-smoking and general socializing. The more religious folks might attend night prayers. Another meal is eaten at midnight or 1:00am, then after a few hours of shut-eye, people rouse themselves to eat one more time before the fast begins around 4:40am, crawling back into bed when they’re done.

Strangely for a month that is supposed to be about abstention, Ramadan often sees people gaining weight from all the special sweets and long, lazy days, and it’s common for shops to put up their highest sales during these weeks just from those several hours of nighttime out-and-aboutness.

I don’t mean to suggest that Ramadan doesn’t hold spiritual significance for Muslims, but in Morocco at least it seems to be a predominantly social ritual. As my friend Hajar told me, “We start fasting around the age of fourteen and now I’m twenty-six, so that’s twelve years of doing this. It’s just what we do, all together.” Most Moroccans appear to share this sense of solidarity, which is just as well because it’s actually illegal for them not to.

As article 222 of the national penal code makes clear: “A person commonly known to be Muslim who violates the fast in a public place during Ramadan, without having one of the justifications allowed by Islam, shall be punished by one to six months of prison and a fine.” Those exempt from fasting include children, the sick, travelers, pregnant and menstruating women, etc. McDonalds – one of the only restaurants open during the day around here – keeps things simple: if you’re not a kid and you’re not foreign, forget about that Big Mac.

I could get away with flouting the fast, then; I’m clearly a foreigner. But eating and drinking in public would be disrespectful. I prepare meals at home and limit my water intake to furtive sips around corners or in bathrooms. Like I said, shweea.

(For more substantial insights into the "Rhythm" and "Religion" of Ramadan in Morocco, check out Cath's two recent and awesome blog posts, here: Adventures in Africa.)