Saturday 20 / April / 2024
From the sweet-smelling sessions in the kitchen with my dear mother preparing Iftar and eagerly waiting for the Imam to call for Maghrib prayers, to waking up in the middle of the night for some homemade garlic-yoghurt, to all the joyful moments of familial love and understanding, Ramadan has always been for me a wonderful time of the year—the holy vibes of compassion surrounding us, leaving me in high spirits. It’s also my favourite time to indulge in home-cooked Ramadan delicacies.
My memories of fasting while growing up are vivid, especially my first day of fasting at home. I was eagerly waiting for the Maghrib prayers, but I was so dehydrated and weak that my grandma took notice and quietly passed me a glass of ice cold water without anyone seeing her. “It’s ok, God asked me to give you a glass of water,” she whispered. I nodded, innocently believing her. I took a few sips. Then she asked me to continue my fast.
We always gathered at her home for Iftar and every household would bring something homemade along with them to add to the table. Each of the women in our family had their own signature dish for Ramadan. While my aunty Zuweina would make the best luqaimat fried dough, which she bathed in caramelised sugar, my other aunt, Salma, would make a delicious fish and coconut gravy, and my mother always made her special pudding with eggs.I liked to try my hand at cooking too, making cookies with honey or drumsticks drenched in ketchup. Though most of the time my dishes would either be burnt or spoilt in some other way, but I would still present them and wait to hear the wave of compliments on my culinary prowess.
After lining up packs of laban, glasses of milk, and fenjans for kahwa, we would wait for the calling of Maghrib prayer. We would dive into our feast, enjoying the food and the warm, joyful, familiar sounds that would fill the house. Then I would walk to the neighbourhood mosque with my grandfather and my brother for Taraweeh prayers.
Around 10pm, the entire family would gather again in the living room and my grandpa would tell us cool stories from the past. This was his favourite part of Ramadan. He would share with us his love for Prophet Muhammad (PBUH) and his fellows, as well as enlightening stories about Holy Quran and its tafseer. Though my grandparents passed away, those moments remain embedded in my heart. We continue to keep Grandpa’s tradition going, gathering each evening after Taraweeh, though this year it was my father who shared the stories.
There are many Ramadan traditions in my family, one of the coolest being the long after-Iftar drives we like to take to different parts of Oman, places such as Al Dakhiliyah, Muttrah, Bar Al Jissah, Qantab road, and Sohar.
Growing up, my family and I would hop into the car and head out to traditional souqs and shops . We would always be late to reach home for Iftar and so we would end up eating our dates and kahwa in the car on the way. It happened like this every year without fail, especially during the last few days, which are usually reserved for Eid shopping. Being quite a fashion lover this was my favourite pastime.
But I suppose I’ve said that already—favourite tradition, favourite indulgence, favourite excursion, I guess the joy of this month, a month when we grow in spirituality, and truly feel the love of Allah and one another, imbues everything from the foods we eat to the simple moments we share with a celebratory feel. It is the best time of year, and I continue to savour every story, every bite, and every minute of it.—[email protected]
