The End of Ramadan

Ramadan has ended. This morning the streets are full of families going house to house greeting each other, hugging and kissing, and no doubt offering congratulations for making it through a month of sacrifice. Many are dressed up in wedding finery, and children sport new clothes. All hanuts and markets are closed and no transports are running. The feasting will soon commence.

The month of Ramadan was hot, dry and miserable. The relentless sun bleached all color out of the landscape. The horizon was barely visible with the brown of the land fading into the gray of the sky. Everything inside and out was covered with a film of dust.

We endured our hottest day in Morocco yet on a day when we were coming back from blessedly cool Rabat through oven-like Fes. It was reportedly 114 degrees. It felt like it. The man who runs the big open dusty chaotic taxi lot had a wet towel on his head, and all the drivers were spraying each other with water. They couldn’t drink any though. It made me wonder about their ability to drive, especially after we came upon two accidents on the way home. Some of our friends witnessed fights in the streets, and I heard a woman screaming at her children with a voice out of “The Exorcist”.

Clearly, the heat, hunger, dehydration, and nicotine withdrawal, had people on edge, but it’s now over for another year. There is a lot to be said for collective suffering and celebration as the entire country experiences Ramadan together.

The weather has also obligingly changed with the end of Ramadan, and it changed in dramatic fashion with rumbling thunder, sheet lightening and a downpour of rain and hail. The temperature is down to the high 80’s and a blanket is needed at night. It’s interesting to see how I now consider 90 to be a comfortable temperature. I’m really looking forward to fall.

Why Moroccans Always Walk in the Street.....

And not on the sidewalks:

The First Day of Ramadan

We had a good idea of what to expect during Ramadan, but as usual, the reality was not as imagined. I thought stores would be closed until evening and people would sleep most of the day, but when I went out in the morning of the first day, the town was bustling, all the hanuts were open, people were shopping at the vegetable and meat markets, and the carpenters' saws were buzzing. Smells of cooking wafted through the air most of the afternoon while the meal to break fast, called lftur, was being prepared. We are not fasting but are being culturally sensitive and respectful of those that are. We were invited to break fast with a Moroccan family which we consider an honor. We went to their home a little early to see the preparations. The women had been cooking all afternoon and the food was all put on the table a few minutes before the call to break fast so that when it came, we could dive right in. At about 7:30 we heard the call from the mosque and started in on the french bread, Moroccan bread, small round bread-like pancakes, large round pancakes, crepes, limsamn and fat bread, olives, honey, zmeta, dates, harira soup, kefta tajine, hard-boiled eggs, pastries with honey & sesame, caramel crunchy cookies, flan, tea, coffee and mango juice. Everything was delicious, but my favorite was the kefta tagine which I want to learn to make. After eating all this, we were surprised to be asked to stay for dinner at 11pm--something light they said--beef and onions. We declined (hopefully in a respectful way) saying that we couldn't eat any more and we were tired and had to go to bed early--all true. We would have used our age as an excuse but the 80+ father took a nap and was ready to eat again. When we left at around 10:30 they loaded us down with three kinds of bread, a big bag of olives, a large melon, sesame cookies and a liter of olive oil. They told us to come back any time and if we want something special to eat, just tell them and they will cook it for us. Although Ramadan is a time of giving as well as spirituality and fasting, their generosity was astonishing. How can we ever hope to reciprocate?