Fasting/Ramadan

I've received several questions about “Ramadan” and “fasting” and what that entails for me since I am not a Muslim, so I'm briefly going to explain the situation here.

The holy month of Ramadan just ended, and during this month Muslims were fasting all day, every day. Fasting, though, doesn't just mean “not eating.” It means not drinking any liquids – yes, in the Sahara – and according to my host family not using sunscreen, chapstick, lotion or shampoo. You cannot use anything but regular unscented soap and water to wash your skin before you pray. It's intense. Then, at sundown, the call to prayer sounds, and my family breaks fast by eating fresh dates and drinking zrig (a combo of sugar, water, and milk), inshe (basically gravy, though not meat-based; in my opinion it's a little heavy after a whole day of not eating or drinking anything, but it contrasts the sweetness of the dates nicely), and bissap juice (basically kool-aid, but a little less artificial tasting. It kind of tastes like slightly fruity sugar cane juice). Then they pray for 40 minutes. This is followed by “snack”, which consists of some sort of starch and a little meat, and if you're lucky some veggies. Then they pray again. Finally they socialize for a few hours until “dinner”, which is almost always just plain coucous, though sometimes it has goat intestines on top. After dinner they sleep for a few hours and wake up either once or twice during the night to eat more. Often these meals involve zrig, rice, or more couscous.

I originally planned to fast. I thought it would be a good way to show my “cultural solidarity”or something like that, as well as a general respect for Islam. I also figured that it the evening festivities would be a good chance to connect with families and to practice French and Hassaniye during my first month at site. However, I planned to drink water during the day. I knew it that meant I wasn't technically fasting, but I couldn't imagine not doing so. My body's already adjusting enough in this new environment, and I didn't want to cause it any unnecessary stress by dehydrating myself. I also didn't know at the beginning that one who is fasting isn't allowed to use sunscreen – and my fair-skinned self certainly uses sunscreen. So when I got to Chinguetti and told my family my plan, they basically said, “But that's not fasting.” It wasn't like, “Oh, you're trying to get to know our culture. Thanks for 'kind-of' fasting.” It makes sense, really. I mean, if you can't drink water all day in the Sahara, and some new American kid comes along and is like, “I'm going to fast too – except I'm not going to do the hardest part,” I could see getting a little irked. I proceeded anyway with my original plan, clandestinely consuming water in the privacy of my own compound. Then after a few days I got really sick, and my body wasn't really liking waking up every couple hours all night, and I was running every other morning meaning I was in need of even more calories, so I said, “Screw 'kind-of' fasting.”

I still didn't eat or drink at all in public, obviously (except for the minor incident of the tomato paste incident as detailed below), but since then I've enjoyed figuring out the market and discovering the limits of my simple kitchen. I now make a mean Brazilian rice and beans, and a pretty decent mac and cheese - an impressive feat without cheese or refrigeration. Who knew that if you heated condensed milk and added a splash of vinegar, the result would rival Kraft?