لَسْتُ أَدرِي

Again, another habit of ours is to have Iftar for the 1st Friday of Ramadan with my uncle -to my father- in his house in the countryside. I won’t really repeat the same old talk about the peaceful life, the simplicity or the beauty of living in countryside, because that’s not true. It is not unique. Every place has its own beauty, peace and simplicity. Though I can say that life there is a little bit more natural with a mystique touch of serenity. Sadly this also has been badly corrupted in the recent 10 years or so by modernity..

A typical Iftar in my uncle’s house is composed of dates, soup, green salad, stuffed cabbage, chicken or meat, and molokhya (that’s done especially for me). We sit on the floor (not chairs) gathering around a small table. We all eat from a single big dish – except for meat that should be assigned per person by my uncle himself. Usually women eat together on a separate table, but me and my mother, we the city people, eat with my father and brother on the men’s table.

After Iftar, men go to pray Maghreb, sometimes women join them, but most of the time they’d be busy cleaning the kitchen or feeding youngsters. After prayers, the big family gather and exchange talk, mainly about religion or politics – since my uncle is the mosque’s Shiekh and now my cousin is taking over. As you notice, TV has no place – and that may be the only thing I don’t like about the day because I usually miss watching my favorite shows. But well.. who cares..

My father and uncle like to do Esha and Tarawih prayers together alone, it’s a good chance for them to exchange some private talk. My uncle is neither the oldest, nor the youngest, but he is indeed the wisest and the dearest person to my father, hence we feel the same towards him and his family. And therefore, despite the tiresome of travel, I always wait for this visit in particular because as you can see, it’s a day you have to enjoy light talks, and sincere laughter from the heart.. (I’ll get back to talk about my uncle’s family later again..)

May you find “serenity” somewhere.. (Cont.)

(This should have been posted last night, but due to the coma I suffered after Iftar, it’s been postponed till today.)

For I don’t-remember-how-long, it’s been a habit to have the first day of Ramadan’s Iftar with my small family members – only the four of us- me, my mother, my father and brother. No matter what we have that day, we always made sure never to miss it, except for –as I remember- first Ramadan in college in 2002. It was a long day, and by the time I was leaving college, Cairo traffic was too terrible to return home on time. Out of no where a stranger gave me a handful of dates to break my fast with, while I was walking down a street.. Suddenly I found tears filling my eyes.. I was crying.

I don’t have a tangible reason for such reaction, especially as I recall I was literally two streets away from my house, but indeed it was the loneliest moment I’ve lived till now. The Azan in the background wrapped with holy silence, the empty streets with wafting smell of tasty food coming from every window.. the vision of merry families waiting for Iftar, with children’s laughter and noises coming out of kitchens before putting down the table.. These thoughts were too hard for me to grasp alone.. And that’s may be why this moment is pinned in my memory to stay..

God bless the warmth of the “family”.. (Cont.)