Ramadan, the ninth month of the Islamic calendar, is incredibly important for Muslims around the world, as it is believed that the Qu’ran was first revealed to the Prophet Muhammad during this month. Fasting from dusk to dawn during Ramadan is one of the Five Pillars of Islam, along with the Muslim declaration of faith, daily prayer, charity, and the Hajj (pilgrimage in Mecca). Ramadan is also considered a time for self-reflection and improvement, and increased devotion to God. During the month of Ramadan, Muslims abstain from all food and drink during the daylight hours; the fast is intended to bring the faithful closer to God as well as remind them of the suffering of the less fortunate. Muslims also abstain from all forms of worldly pleasures such as smoking, sexual intecourse, etc. to dedicate themselves and focus on their prayers and knowledge of God. Ramadan is also used to spend more time at the mosque, donate to charity and feed the hungry, and enjoy time with family, friends, and loved ones. A meal before sunrise, often called “suhoor” or “sehri”, is eaten to prepare for the fast, and the fast is broken at sunset traditionally with a sip of water and some dates, the way the Prophet Muhammad did some 1,400 years ago. The meal after sunset is usually referred to as “iftar.” Ramadan ends with the sighting of the crescent moon, and is usually followed by Eid-ul-Fitr, one of the most important celebrations in Islam. Traditions during Ramadan and Eid often vary between regions and countries. The diversity at NYU Shanghai allows students to experience the month of Ramadan as well as Eid celebrations differently, regardless of their own religious faiths and participation in celebrations. On Century Avenue explored Ramadan celebrations from the perspective of over ten NYU Shanghai students that highlight this diversity, whether due to traditions in their hometown, or experiences in their current locations. Azerbaijan and Turkey by Fikret Halilov I was born in Baku, Azerbaijan, but live in Istanbul, Turkey. Both countries call the holiday "Ramazan Bayramı" (we do not use the term "Eid" at all), and both of them celebrate it in a very similar fashion, but they diverge in extent of celebration. Azerbaijan is a fairly secular country because of the Soviet influence (even though there has been some recent restoration of Islamic faith), so the month of fasting is not practiced by too many people. This is especially true in the capital, where I am from. You also most likely will not hear daily prayers, since there's only about a handful of mosques in the city. Nevertheless, the month and subsequent holiday is officially recognized by the state, and is always celebrated and welcomed: everybody wishes each other "Ramazan Bayramınız mübarək" (yep, same phrase), visits relatives and the graves of the deceased, and gives to charity. In Istanbul, on the other hand, there are so many mosques that wherever you are, you can usually hear two to three of them announcing prayer at the same time. As such, the percentage of people fasting is undoubtedly higher. In many areas, there is a drummer that walks around the streets, beating his drum to wake people up for the meal before sunrise. Nicknamed “Şeker Bayramı” (or “Festival of Sweets”), Ramazan is arguably Turkey’s most important holiday, and is celebrated with great fervor. Much of the same traditions apply, including the visiting of relatives. Very often, you will see younger people kissing an elder’s hand and then putting it on their forehead as a sign of respect. There is a tradition of elders giving money to children (along with candy, as the nickname suggests), more fortunate to less fortunate, upper class to working class, manager to worker, and so on. All in all, a wonderful time to spend in both countries. Just make sure not to eat something out in the street during fasting month! Bosnia and Herzegovina by Selma Ziga Eid Mubarak!, or as we Bosnians like to say it, “Bajram Barećula!” Another common phrase we, as well as Turkish people use, is “Bajram Šerif Mubarek Olsun”, but all of them come to one meaning: “blessed Eid”, or “Bajram” as we call it. Blessed be the ending of Ramadan; blessed be the time we spend with our family and loved ones; blessed be all the food we eat as a way to celebrate. However, the few days we celebrate Eid are not only spent eating. It all begins with the morning Eid prayer, usually attended by men, while a lot of women stay at home to prepare gifts for older family members they will visit throughout the day or to set up tables and finish desserts for those who may visit. It is usually the younger family members who visit their parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles, as well as whoever they may feel close to. In case they visit more relatives, they usually leave the closest ones for last, as they are the ones who people wish to spend the most time with. Common gifts given to guest during Eid consist of a pack of ground coffee, a pack of sugar, juices, and Turkish delights. During every visit, guests are served with traditional Bosnian coffee and traditional Eid desserts, such as baklava - a dessert with many variations all across the regions of the Ottoman Empire. But we like to say ours is the best - thin layers of dough, filled with crushed walnuts, baked until crispy and covered in hot sugar syrup. However, our baklava is served cold, hence, it is usually made a day or two in advance. Another dessert which is very commonly made is apple pie, which is usually different from a common apple pie. Shredded apple is cooked with cinnamon, sugar and a bit of water, until it becomes soft and golden. It is then wrapped in thin layers of dough, and baked, just like baklava, in hot sugar syrup. Yet, many will say that only baklava is a true Eid dessert, while the others are only unworthy replacements. Bosnian coffee, however, is always the same. In spite of being similar in taste to Turkish coffee, as well as being brought to these regions by the Ottoman Empire, it is made slightly differently. While Turkish coffee is made by being mixed with sugar and cold water, then being left to boil, Bosnian coffee is made by letting the water boil in a separate pot and then mixing it with coffee over the stove in a traditional Bosnian coffee pot, called džezva. Then it is brought to boiling point several times, which enhances the taste and creaminess. The coffee is then served in small cups, called fildžan, with sugar cubes which you dip in the coffee, take a bite off and then drink the coffee. Often times Turkish delights are served as well. An essential part of all Bosnian Eid celebrations is bajramluk, or eidi - a gift of usually money given to children and young ones. It is the part of Eid children often look forward to the most, as they are free to use the money however they want. It is a common sight for parents and the children who receive money to say “Oh no, please don’t” or “You really shouldn’t have” while attempting to give the money back, which the giver will refuse to take. There is no exact age when you stop receiving eidi, as it all varies from family to family, but the usual practice is that when a person starts working at a full-time job, they no longer receive eidi, but are required to give it to the younger ones. The second day of Eid was proclaimed Martyrs’ Day in Bosnia and Herzegovina, after the most recent war ended in 1995. On that day, families go visit their deceased loved ones at graveyards, and will usually recite Surah al-Fatiha at each of the graves. Since it is not common practice to have all family members buried next to each other, the whole process can take up almost the whole day. Once done, close family members usually gather in their homes and spend the rest of the day together, talking, singing and eating traditional food such as dolmas, pies, different meat dishes, etc. Eid is generally perceived as a family holiday, and people usually spend it with their loved ones. Likewise, in my opinion, there is no better way to spend it. China by Qihen (Andy) Fang As the fast is intended to bring the faithful closer to God and to remind them of the suffering of the less fortunate, Muslims often donate to charities during the month of Ramadan and help feed the hungry. Therefore, many Chinese Muslims spend more time at the mosque than at any other time of the year. Chinese Muslims also traditionally break their fast like the Prophet Muhammad did some 1,400 years ago, with a sip of water at sunset. The whole family then sits together to have a meal; in my family, it is tradition to eat a Chinese pancaked called youxiang(油香) during the meal after sunset. One of the most important lessons I have learnt through fasting for Ramadan is the value of food; you will never cherish the food you have until you have gone through extreme hunger. Ramadan has really taught me how lucky we are to be able to receive food and water whenever we need it, as well as how necessary it is to avoid wasting food. Many Muslims, particularly those who live in the U.S., Europe, and China, are accepting and welcoming of others around them who are not observing Ramadan. As a result, Chinese Muslims often do not expect shorter work hours, which is usually granted for much of the Arab world during Ramadan. During Eid, Chinese Muslims go to their regular mosques to observe prayers with their Muslim brothers and sisters; my family usually goes to the Huxi Mosque or Xiaotaoyuan Mosque in Shanghai. Everyone usually eats together as it is believed that the happiness and blessings of Eid must be shared. Chinese Muslims then often come home to sacrifice the animal they have either raised or bought from a Halal market. The meat is divided into three pieces, in line with the values of spreading the happiness of Eid: one for the poor, one for friends and relatives, and one for the family. Egypt by Fareed Massoud Egyptian streets during Ramadan are usually hotter and tougher than they are during the rest of the year. For Muslims who are fasting, it’s easy to see why; for Copts, the Christian minority in Egypt, and non-fasting Egyptians, however, eating and drinking in public is taboo during the ‘holy’ month as well. During the daytime, Cairo loses its vibrancy and everything is dry and quiet as though the city’s residents are all hibernating. And then, as if to parody Superman’s photosynthetic healing powers, the Egyptians start to come alive when the sun sets. You can feel the anticipation of food building up like a house song approaching the drop. Egyptian television series in Ramadan are among the most popular form of recreational activities in the entire Middle East. This Ramadan I was following one called ‘Wannooss’, the story of a humanoid devil that taunts, teases, and provokes an Egyptian family with the pleasures of sin. TV series are my favorite thing about Ramadan in Egypt, as they are very well produced and often display a great variety and creativity in their plotlines; they also introduce new talents to the Arabic speaking world. The humorous advertisements shown during the breaks also exemplify top notch marketing in Egypt, and create some of the cultural one-liners and applied memes used in quotidian Egyptian life. Indonesia by Tirza Alberta Ramadhan, while first and foremost is a chance to revisit and strengthen the faith, it’s also a time to mend relationships that’s somehow faded throughout the year. This is the month when Indonesians, Muslims and non-Muslims, get busy marking the calendars, inviting and getting invited to get-togethers we affectionately refer to as bukber. Translating into “breaking the fast together [with family and friends]”, bukber takes place after the sun sets, right when the 230 million Muslims across the country break their fast. So, why throw a get-together during Ramadhan? As odd as it sounds, Ramadhan is actually the time when everyone’s culinary vocabulary grows to manifold, simply because there really are more varieties of food during this month, namely kolak, a dessert usually based on palm sugar, coconut milk, and pandanus leaf, and es timun suri, shaved ice with lemon cucumber. Unlike the way to Rome though, there are only two ways to get a hold of these delicacies: wait for Ramadhan, or wait for Ramadhan. You got it - these foods, along with other regional specialties, are unique to the holy month. And when you’ve got more to savour, what’s a better way of enjoying these if not with family and friends? In fact, some even go out of their way onto the road to pass boxes of food to the ones in need, making Ramadhan a sweeter month for everyone. Moreover, many students and employees are let out early during Ramadhan, in hopes of helping them adapt to running the day sans the usual food and water intake. For some, this privilege only lasts the first few days of fasting. Some who find it hard to meet with their loved ones otherwise will find the early dismissal work wonders in making the magic happens. With what’s essentially free time, it’s hard to not use it for a bit of catching up. Especially on the days approaching Eid al-Fitr, bukber is also there to help you push through the last days of fasting month. And as if that wasn’t enough, traffic tends to lighten towards the end of Ramadhan, enabling you to make that dash to your favourite eating spot. Really, the universe is trying to make you build bridges here. Although I can go on with more, let’s be real, it’s always more fun to see it for yourself right here in Indonesia. To be fair, however, if you travel in the central and eastern part of Indonesia, you might not even realise it’s fasting month, as many muslim communities lie in the western side. Before you go western-Indo-bound though, mind you, finding traditional, local eateries can be hard during fasting days, although numerous restaurants will generally remain open throughout the month, often with curtains drawn along the periphery. Don’t get vexed if we want you to get a little discreet with downing your cola though, we’ll be sure to remain as warm and welcoming a host. For now, please excuse me for a bit -- I’ve got a bukber to catch! Kuwait by Samanta Shi As a Swedish fourteen year old, moving to Kuwait was one of the most life-changing moments in my life. Transitioning from an environment where most of my friends were atheist to a country where most are Muslim surely was an eye-opening experience. However, I didn’t really suffer from culture shock. Having moved around several times, from one country to the other, I managed to quickly adjust and adapt to the environment with different cultural norms and expectations. Undoubtedly, experiencing Ramadan for the first time was interesting. I thought it a bit strange that people would go a whole day without food but, more importantly, water. I remember being in the car with my mother, driving to the mall for a walk around the shops, and she emphasized “You cannot even chew gum outside during daylight!”. Each day was quite boring for a non-Muslim, as most of my friends were either with family or asleep. As soon as the sun would set and after everyone had stuffed their faces with their first meal of the day, the country came back to life. Ramadan was certainly one of the most interesting months of the year, watching a country go from dead silence in broad daylight to a dark but lively place was a rare and fun experience. I remember hanging out with friends until very late (or early) times, as they would stay up so that they could have their last meal around 3-4AM before fasting. The food was absolutely delicious, and I would always insist on eating local food whenever I could, whether at my friends place or at a restaurant. Kuwait has an endless amount of restaurant options, ranging from American, Japanese, Lebanese to Kuwaiti (and lots more). But, home-cooked food was always the best. I especially loved my friend’s mother’s home-cooked waraq einab, which is rice and lamb meat wrapped with grape leaves. Breaking fast was an amazing experience -- endless amounts of food options lined up on 3-5 tables in living rooms sometimes as big as a whole apartment, and each dish tasted incredible. As an observer, I noticed that the holy month of Ramadan would bring families closer and rended attitudes more appreciative. There is a fantastic cultural significance of this month and the celebrations that follow during Eid. I wonder what Ramadan would be like if more religions and cultures participated. NYU Abu Dhabi by Sydney Bender In my three years travelling, I've been able to get glimpses of Ramadan in 3 different countries: Morocco, Bosnia and the UAE. Like many predominantly Muslim countries, the fast here is facilitated by later restaurant hours and a general courtesy of no public drinking or eating during fasting hours for the month. Moreover, working hours are shortened, a true blessing when you've been up until 4 am and are trying to continue functioning without caffeine. However, the biggest rarity in the UAE, particularly Abu Dhabi, is the sleepiness of Ramadan. Living in a city that's quite unpalatably hot in summer, Abu Dhabi doesn't enjoy the tradition of post-iftar rambling through the city streets. Even outdoor cafes will be relatively empty at past 11 pm. While the streets still glisten with Ramadan lights, this spectacle is usually enjoyed from the comfort of an air-conditioned sedan. In this international, predominantly Islamic city, I've also found the policies facilitating foreign comfort intriguing. According to my Western boss, you can still purchase alcohol during Ramadan and even enjoy it at beach clubs during the day. Most malls close all restaurants during the day, yet predominantly foreign areas of town still have open restaurants, albeit blacked out. Similarly, some girls will ignore mall policies and tramp through the malls in booty shorts and tank tops during fasting hours. Due to this internationalism, iftar and suhoor are diverse. I remember the first week the dining hall on NYUAD's campus started serving suhoor, complaints abounded about the selection (predominantly spicy meat and rice) with students decrying the lack of fruit and yogurt. Whether or not I'm biased, iftar out tends to be more Lebanese than Emirati. Sometimes, you'll see families take iftar out, but the dominant trend is definitely to enjoy iftar at home with your family. Possibly out of the combination of heat and the driving culture here (you can't walk anywhere), many people will just remain at home, conversing or watching tv, leaving the house only for tarawih prayers from 8:45 til 9:30 or 10. Suhoor is then enjoyed again at home, around the family, and the cycle repeats. While these elements of Ramadan in the UAE makes the holiday lonelier for those without family, definitely the hardest part about Ramadan at NYUAD specifically is the lack of adhan, or the call to prayer that traditionally sounds from mosques five times a day. Presumably, out of consideration for non-Muslim students, the campus mosque doesn't sound the adhan even for Maghreb and Fajr prayers during Ramadan. Instead, on campus, if you walk into the cafeteria around iftar, you're greeted by a mass of campus workers keenly watching the television, awaiting the adhan. The start of fasting must be determined by phone apps or Internet searches instead of just listening out the window. While Ramadan here can be a bit isolating, it's still a beautiful time of year and makes Eid celebrations all the more potent. After weeks of parking at the mall's entrance amongst 20 some other cars, you have to seek out the few spots left in the periphery of the lot, only to squeeze into the masses of people in the mall comparable to Chinese levels. Shows abound, and the felicity of the people is palpable. Being frank, Abu Dhabi isn't the first place I'd choose to spend Ramadan, despite our relatively short fasting hours and Muslim-oriented culture. That said, for long-term residents, there remains a particular beauty, compared to spending Ramadan abroad in other countries. Most foreigners here have full-fledged communities. While missing Ramadan at home, you can easily reunite with friends from your country to share traditional iftar and reminisce. This, ultimately, is the most inspiring part of Ramadan here - to hear stories of Sudanese residents chatting about their homeland and pious community men who have since passed into Paradise, of people reaffirming their roots and uniting together in a distant land. If you can't spend Ramadan at home, I wouldn't be surprised if the UAE is second best, where instead of relying on your own stories to share with those who don't know, which has its own merits, you get to build collective memory of homeland. NYU Shanghai by Sarabi N. Eventide “So, how was Eid?” my classmate asks, pulling an earphone out to hear me more clearly. I hesitate. My sore body and swimming head protest as I struggle to stand up and give her a hug. I can only imagine how pitiful I must look, despite my best attempts to keep my eyes smiling. “It was… intense,” I say, with less enthusiasm than I thought I’d managed to muster, and far less enthusiasm than I’m sure she was expecting. We briefly discussed the details of the event before she went off to go apartment hunting. Last year, I didn’t get to celebrate my first Eid al-Fitr (there are two Eids in a year, Eid al-Fitr is the one that comes after Ramadan). To commemorate the end of a month of secret fasting, I woke up during the dark hours of the morning, got ready, slipped out of the house, hitched a ride into the next city (the only masjid in my own city opened just two weeks before Eid that year and was not holding an Eid event), attended the Eid prayer, then slipped back into my house after my father had gone to work and my mother had left for her morning walk. I prayed all the while that my mother did not choose that morning to pop her head into my room and see if I was still there. After I changed back into my pyjamas, I spent the day alternating between reading a book, messing with my cellphone, and doing various household chores. This year, I wanted something a bit grander. I planned my summer with the intention of being in Shanghai for Eid, and based on the personalities of the people who would be there, I knew that if I wanted to celebrate, I’d have to handle most of the planning on my own. Over the latter half of the spring semester, I started discussing plans with a couple friends. We were going to decorate ourselves with henna the night before Eid, and the day of we were going to have lunch at a restaurant after the prayer service, followed by a homemade dinner. Ramadan started off a bit shaky. I’d been in India for a couple of weeks by then, but despite being in a state with one of the highest concentrations of Muslims in the country, I found myself having to explain and defend my choice to wear hijab on an almost daily basis. Though I’m not proud of the decision, I eventually modified my style to appease my hosts and stop the barrage of unwanted commentary. A few days into Ramadan, my health took a sharp turn for the worse, preventing me from fasting for quite some time. By the time I’d recovered, I was on my way back to Shanghai. Shanghai, it turns out, is where I should have been all along. While I don’t regret studying away for the past academic year, I missed the city immensely, and my experiences in New York and Paris were pale in comparison to the good times I’ve had here. Simply put, Shanghai is where I’m meant to be. I spent about a week and a half homeless and my health once again failed me (actually it was my fault, I forgot to take my medicine), but neither of these unfortunate circumstances dampened my mood. I recommenced speaking Chinese as if I’d never stopped, and I navigated the city with ease. I was finally back in my element. Towards the end of Ramadan, I was assaulted with a strange mix of emotions. I was sad the holy month was ending, and I was nervous about being able to pull off the Eid celebrations. I was thankful that I didn’t need to retreat to the dark corners of secrecy like last year. I was jealous of peoples’ family gatherings (I always get upset when people talking about meeting with this grandparent and that uncle, or when they proudly claim to be able to trace their lineage all the way back to CE 600, because the slave history of the United States combined with the distressingly high mortality rate among black Americans means I can’t trace my lineage further back than my parents) and I was excited for the things I had planned. Essentially, I didn’t know what to think or how to feel, nor did I have an example to follow. The day before Eid was upon us; I woke up bright and early to begin the laborious task of gathering all of the groceries (it involved visiting a supermarket, two different wet markets, and a superstore). Since most of the people who would be attending the dinner live in the Jinqiao dorms of NYU Shanghai, I took everything there and began to cook. Tyler Rhorick, who probably realized before I did that I was in for a massive amount of work, graciously volunteered to help me, and I’m immensely grateful for his support. He helped me in the kitchen almost all day on both Tuesday and Wednesday and honestly, without his help, there’s no way I would have finished cooking in time. No one likes to be in the kitchen all day alone; it’s always nice to have a companion. While planning our celebrations during the spring semester, the female celebrants and I decided we would do henna the night before Eid, in this case Tuesday night. Since I’d spent all day doing meal prep, I was more than ready to take a seat and have my hands decorated. I brought henna from India for the express purpose of pre-Eid festivities. I’d imagined we’d all let our hair down, chat and draw henna designs, perhaps over cups of bubble tea. It turns out imagining is all that happened. One of the celebrants wound up sick and unable to attend, another had to work (but she told me this a few weeks in advance, so I’d already factored in her absence), and the last one forgot our plans (despite being reminded) and made other plans. Instead of doing henna, I wound up making another dish for the next day. The night before Eid, I couldn’t sleep. As cliché as it may be, my mind was racing. Would I wake up on time (5 AM)? Would I be dressed appropriately? What if I don’t understand what’s going on, even though I’ve read and reviewed Eid-related information a hundred times? Would there be enough food for dinner? Would the others wake up? How many dishes are there left to make? These questions kept my mind active all night until about 4:30 AM, when I finally decided that it wasn’t worth it to try sleeping anymore. Of course, as soon I decided this, I passed out. I woke up about an hour and a half later, at 6, which is when I was supposed to be leaving my apartment. I got ready in a mad dash and speed-walked to the bus stop. I have a long, comfortable relationship with Pudong Masjid. I discovered it during sophomore year on a day when I didn’t have the emotional strength to go to class. I didn’t go in that day, but I noted its location and kept walking. On another occasion, some months later, I met the imam and began to talk with him. I explained my situation and expressed my reservations. He gave me his oh contact information. In an interesting turn of events, I wound up meeting the imam’s daughter-in-law a little bit after that, but at the time I didn’t realize they were related; we were just two foreigners getting along. When I mentioned how wonderful Zhao ahong (阿訇 a.k.a. Imam Yusufu) is, she told me they were related and I didn’t fully believe her until I saw them interact. I mention all of this because on Wednesday morning, by pure chance, I met Zhao ahong’s mother, who is quite possibly the sweetest woman on Earth. Chatting with her (and with the lady who works in the halal restaurant near Jinqiao) was the highlight of my day. The service (which was in Mandarin and Arabic) ended, and the worshippers flooded the street. The scene was not unlike the standard Friday prayer environment. Food stalls lined the block, selling everything from cakes and dates, to lamb kebabs and noodle dishes. What a delight it was, after a month of abstaining from food during the daylight hours, to be able to grab something and take a bite. The people who were supposed to join me for lunch were still asleep, so I abandoned that plan and headed back to Jinqiao. I’ll spare you the details of the ensuing hours. I essentially cooked from about 1:30 until 6:15, mostly with the help of Tyler (as mentioned earlier) and Eric Morales (who I also commend for immediately offering help and supplies, though miscommunications meant he didn’t join until later). Tehreem Nihar also joined during the later stages of cooking and Hang Pham helped clean up. By the time dinner was served, a couple of people couldn’t come, and I found out too late to set food aside for them. I instructed everyone to leave some for them so I could pack a container, but as is always the case, there were guests that ignored my request (such rudeness never fails to irritate me). Mild irritation and overwhelming exhaustion aside though, the conversation was good, and it was nice to be able to spend Eid with people. I’d spent Ramadan eating suhoor alone in dark, quiet rooms and breaking most of my fasts on the subway, surrounded by strangers, or alone in my room. Whatever I ate in the morning was usually cold because I didn’t want to wake anyone by using the microwave. Eventually, I stopped bothering to wake up to eat, which had adverse affects on my overall health. By comparison, Eid was splendid, if tiring. I’m more than a little disappointed I didn’t get to do henna or go out to lunch, and I will definitely be avoiding Facebook for a few more days while people finish posting their Eid pictures, but I’m grateful that I didn’t have to spend the day alone and bored again. I’ve decided that I won’t be holding another dinner party for at least another 5 years, or until I can hire people to cook for me, but I do like being able to spend Eid Eid with other people. Perhaps subconsciously that’s why I chose to come to Shanghai for Eid. I don’t have a Muslim family. I don’t have a mother who understands the struggle of accidentally stabbing yourself multiple times with hijab pins or a father who can skillfully slice the sacrificial meat. I don’t have sisters whose outfits I can fuss over or baby brothers playing with my earrings while I try to get ready. While the people in Shanghai this summer might have had those things at home, they, too, were essentially without family. Although I did feel a pang of sadness as people left to go call their families and wish them Eid mubarak, in that moment, surrounding the table and eating dinner, we were family. Correction: here at NYU Shanghai, we are family. Pakistan by Haider Ali Ramadan in Pakistan is celebrated as a festival and special arrangements are made not just for the prayers and pious deeds encouraged during this time period, but also for the two special meals of the day, iftar and sehari. For sehari, women in the house usually make unique and special food for their family, while trying to make a feast with different recipes they know for iftar. Special recipes are used during this period of festivity, while food shops and restaurants generally remain open till sehari. Some popular food generally eaten for sehari includes paratha (flatbread), chai (tea), green tea, halwa puri (deep fried bread with a sweet confectionary), puri channay (deep fried bread with chickpeas gravy), and yogurt. The month of fasting is undertaken to acknowledge the superiority of the spiritual realm over the physical realm. Ramadan serves as a rejuvenation period where one is soaking in all of his/her knowledge and spirituality. The renewed sense of community that Ramadan brings is truly what makes it so special - it provides an opportunity to be with friends and family, as well as the opportunity to reach out to and spend time with people you may not regularly contact. The last couple of days of Ramadan are marked by overcrowded markets with enthusiastic customers and optimistic vendors. Long traffic jams are witnessed in the cities and children as usual comes in the forefront of shopping sprees, driving their parents crazy with their excitement for Eid preparations. The buyers do not leave any stone unturned to purchase the most recent arrivals of jewellery, garments, and furniture as well. Once the crescent moon is sighted, the months of Ramadan comes to an end. The night before Eid is called Chand Raat, which means, “Night of the Moon”. People often visit bazaars and shopping malls for their last minute Eid shopping, and women, especially younger girls, often apply traditional mehendi (henna), on their hands and feet that are also adorned with colorful bangles. Ramadan is followed by a Eid-ul-Fitr, an important religious holiday and a three-day holiday generally used to celebrate with friends and family members. For many it is the light at the end of the tunnel after a long and difficult month of fasting. Eid-ul-Fitr in Pakistan is known as “Sweet Eid” because of the variety of sweet dishes being cooked and consumed on this day. Breakfast generally includes sheer khurma, which is a sweet dish made of sevaiyaan (vermicelli) cooked with dates in milk. “Sevaiyaan ki kheer” is one of the most famous Eid dishes in Pakistan, a vermicelli based dessert topped with sliced almonds. It is also consumed before the Eid prayer offerings. Sweetmeats like barfi (a dense milk-based sweet), gulab jamun (a sweet made from milk-solids), and rasmalai (milk balls soaked in clotted cream) are very popular during Eid in Pakistan. The dishes are consumed in the houses as well as offered to friends and relatives who come for a visit on this festival. Eid in Pakistan often involves men visiting graveyards to offer their respects to deceased family members, while children often go to a mela (local fair) to buy sweets and toys. Families also take this time to go to parks, the seaside, the riverside or lake fronts to enjoy the view and relax. Eid-ul- Fitr is also a festival that fosters brotherhood and interactions as people visit friends, relatives, neighbours and the elderly after offering prayers at the mosques and Eidgahs, which are traditional open structures especially built for Eid prayers. People also give obligatory charity on behalf of each of their family member to the needy or poor before Eid day, or at least before Eid prayer. Eid in Pakistan serves as a big day for children as gifts are given to them mostly in the form of money called “Eidi” by every elder in the family and relatives when they visit their places. Media also cover Eid festivities all day and air various special programmes on TV for all age groups. Senegal by Nady Camara For some reasons, the month of Ramadan is seen as one of the hardest months to go through as a Muslim because you are supposed to fast every single day; however, it also usually turns out to be the most fun time of the year. I remember the excitement every year as Ramadan was just around the corner. As over 90% of the population in Senegal is Muslim, one usually shares this excitement with the entire community and family. Almost the entire country is preparing for the days of fasting soon to come, and you cannot walk around the city without seeing at least one billboard supporting the crescent moon along with messages wishing you a happy month of fasting. Just like during Christmas time in the US, these festive billboards arrive weeks before Ramadan actually starts. Once the fasting days begin, there is generally a huge vibe of religious retrospection and everyone asks for forgiveness from their peers and other Muslim siblings. Indeed, it is considered the right month to work on your relationship with Allah and your religion, as well as how you live with other human beings. I remember growing up during this time, and being surrounded by people who talk less, curse less, and try to make as many duas as they can. During the first couple of days of Ramadan, usual meal times are hard to pass by without feeling the emptiness in your stomach and the lack of energy in your body as you remember the good days where meals were taken with the sun blazing above your head. However, such days go by very quickly and the body quickly adapts to the lack of food and water during daylight. Even though food is supposed to have the least importance during this time, it is always super exciting to break your fast at the end of the day as you are surrounded by your family and friends, who, for once, will also be focusing only on the food and drinks rather than past mistakes and flaws. At the time of breaking the fast, the Muezzin, who calls for prayers from the mosque, will be heard from different angles in the bloc, as well as from the TV. To be completely honest, I can say that this is one of the few times all Senegalese Muslims will come together and comply to the first call for prayer they hear, regardless of which religious sect it belongs to. After all, it has never been a good idea to let your hot cup of coffee go to waste underneath the AC blowing the hot Senegalese summer out of the room while stomachs growl in despair. All joking aside, it’s at that moment that you are encouraged to reflect on the privilege you have to be able to eat when there are less fortunate around the world who must bear with never ending hunger. At a true Senegalese family, the night will be spent drinking the most delicious Bissap, a sugary juice or tea made from the bissap flower, or other beverages as we wait for another day that will be spent praying and fasting. Sri Lanka by Fathima Saffia Kariapper “Wait, so you visit all of your relatives’ houses in just one day?” one of my friends once asked me when I was explaining to him about how we celebrate Eid in Sri Lanka. Unlike in some other parts of the world where Eid is celebrated for three to five days, Sri Lankans only celebrate Eid for one day. This means that one actually ends up visiting all relatives on that one day. As impossible as it sounds to visit on average a twenty to thirty houses in a day, Sri Lankans actually manage to pull it off. And Eid wouldn’t be Eid in Sri Lanka without the food, especially biryani and watalappan, which is a pudding made of jaggery, The night before Eid, homemade goodies, both sweet and savoury, are prepared to fill up the Eid table and it’s generally a norm to put out homemade food on your Eid table even though they may be things that could easily be store bought. Bowls of watalappan are also distributed to close non-muslim friends and family, allowing them to enjoy the occasion as well. Something else that can’t be forgotten when talking of Eid in Sri Lanka is pernaal shalli, which means festival money. Getting money from their parents and all their elderly relatives, as a reward for fasting, is something that all kids eagerly look forward to on Eid. So all in all, Eid is generally an occasion filled with happiness and joy, with people being surrounded by their relatives as well as food, gifts and pernaal shalli. Tajikistan by Talat Nasreddin Tajikistan is located in central Asia and borders China, Kyrgyzstan, Uzbekistan and Afghanistan. The country is very small in size and has a population of only 8 million. 98% of Tajiks are Muslims and therefore, just like other countries with a predominantly Muslim population, Islamic holidays are very important in Tajikistan. The most important month is the month of Ramadan. This year Ramadan started on June 6 and ended on July 5, followed by Eid-al- Fitr on July 6. Before the start of Ramadan, it is tradition for our President Emomali Rahmon to give a speech to the nation congratulating all the Muslims and emphasizing the need to do good work and promote peace, stability, and national unity. In Tajikistan, private companies are also required to give charity during this holy month. Because mosques play a greater role during the month of Ramadan than any other time of the year, workers prepare by repairing, beautifying and cleaning the mosques. The Tarawih prayers are performed in congregation inside the mosque. Unlike the usual 8 rak’ahs (prostrations) in Tarawih that is performed in several other Muslim countries, Tajik Muslims perform 20 rak’ahs based on the belief that this was the tradition of the Prophet Muhammad, peace be upon him (pbuh). There are two types of ways Tajiks gather for iftar. In the first, communal dining tables are put in mosques and food is provided not only for the needy but rather for the whole neighborhood. People prepare different types of dishes at home and bring them to the mosque to share. The second way of communal iftar happens when the master of the house hosts his or her relatives, friends and neighbors for a dinner. Tajik tables are decorated with a variety of foods such as Osh, soup, kebab, and mantoo, a dish made of minced meat covered in dough and steamed. The table is also almost always covered with snacks, candies and sweets. The most popular sweet dish is called nshala, a white substance that is not only delicious but also helps with digestion. Eid – al – Fitr marks the end of Ramadan, which fell on 6th June this year. The first thing one hears early in the morning of Eid is children yelling “Idi nav muborak”, meaning “happy holiday”. Children go from one house to the other collecting candy, chocolates, gum, CDs, etc., which often resembles Halloween and trick-or-treating, except that they go very early in the morning. On this day, everyone’s door is open and strangers or neighbors are expected to come in at any moment, so every house decorates their tables with different kinds of foods, desserts, and drinks (non-alcoholic, of course) to show hospitality towards the guests. Groups of friends, generally teenagers and young adults, usually gather and visit each other’s house one by one. On Eid, one can truly see the unity between the nation, as well as the hospitality and greatness of Tajikistan. United Arab Emirates (UAE) by Ibrahim Saeed In the United Arab Emirates (UAE), the month of Ramadan represents a dynamic change in the daily life of everyone in the community. Daytime is noticeably much quieter and less busy, with individuals being considerately obliged to respect the fasting community by not eating, drinking, and smoking in public. However, evening and night times are much busier, with individuals, families, and friends of all backgrounds coming out to socialize, shop, and dine, with shops and restaurants typically closing long after midnight. In addition to abstaining from food and drink with the aim of appreciating and understanding the value of the numerous blessings that many take for granted, Ramadan also presents the opportunity for one to renew and improve oneself through charitable acts and deeds. Therefore, towards the end of Ramadan, many in the UAE take this time to engage in religious practices – numerous individuals choose to live in mosques to pray, read the Holy Book, and donate to charities. Ramadan is also an opportunity for to spread love and tolerance and gain a deeper understanding of what we all as humans should aspire to become. The end of Ramadan also marks the beginning of the 3-day Eid-ul-Fitr celebrations, during which families and friends gather to exchange gifts and food, and acting in ways that reflect the empowering message of Ramadan. United States of America (USA) by Reida Akam Ramadan. It's quite an internal struggle when you search for the right words to explain to the average Joe-who you would hope would have at least a little familiarity with a religion practiced by thousands upon millions of people but I'll just sip my tea (after sun down, of course)- exactly why I'm obligated to prohibit myself from even drinking water for sometimes more than 12 hours a day during the course of a month. While it is obligatory, the whole point is to take this month (that God has so graciously granted you the right to live HINT HINT) and reflect in a spiritual capacity all that you believe and honor in your faith. The fasting is only a conduit and physical representation of the spiritual cleansing that is assumed to be happening during this holy month as you take the time you previously invested into eating, smoking, etc., and reallocate it into a deeper and more thoughtful study of your religion. My impressions of the reception and acceptance of fasting in the US has been widely varied (and rightly so) according to the vast differences in the degree of cultural awareness in a given setting. Imagine the prevalence of the knowledge of the practices of Islam in a small, suburban, southwest city in the borders of Mexico and California a.k.a my hometown of Yuma, Arizona. Relatively speaking, the presence of that knowledge, when compared to the thriving metropolises of Los Angeles or New York, is practically none, which also reflects the actual population of Muslims in the area. Given this, what I can share about my experiences of practicing this part of my religion in the US is that while it's hard of course, I also have my family and friends. While I can't eat that really delicious looking sandwich on TV, I can complain and bemoan my fate with my brother and sisters, and surround myself with friends who are understanding and supportive even if they can't help eating that bag of chips in front of me. Even when I've been abroad during the month of the Ramadan for the past couple of years, the connection to my family has always been the proverbial chicken soup to my soup (I know I'm talking about food a lot, I'm hungry dammit). So while I can't join the weekly breaking of fast at my mosque, or the Eid celebration at the end of Ramadan, I can still celebrate this holy month with the same dedication and purpose as anywhere else in the world. This feature is brought to you by the On Century Avenue Editorial Staff and contributed to by various writers from NYU Shanghai.

Photo Credits: Reema Siddiqui