Ramadan is slowly becoming my favorite time of year. This year is the third year that I’ve had the wonderful chance to spend Ramadan in Central Asia – I spent one in Tajikistan, and this is now my second in Kyrgyzstan. And even though Ramadan here is very different from Ramadan in, say, Jordan, or Oman, it has its own wonderful unique charms that make me smile with every moment.
Just so we’re all on the same page, let’s do a bit of basic review. Ramadan, which is actually pronounced “Ramazan” here (Arabic has 3 or 4 different “d” sounds, and the one that is in the word “Ramadan” is read as “z” in Farsi and Urdu, and is how it became Ramazan in Iran, Pakistan, and Central Asia), is the Islamic holy month of fasting that remembers the original revelation of the Quran to the prophet Muhammad. In Kyrgyz, it’s called “Orozo.” Fasting means no food or water (or smoking, drinking, drugs, or adult activities) from the very first light in the morning until the moment of sunset. This year, in Osh, it’s from about 3:30AM until 8:45PM, but it differs by the day, the place, and the time of year (Bishkek’s fast is slightly longer by about 10 minutes because it is further north).
As one of the “Five Pillars” of Islam, fasting is required of most adult Muslims, except for people who are ill, traveling, pregnant, menstruating, breastfeeding, or diabetic. Muslims living in the far north or south of the world (where there may be 20 hours of daylight or darkness) are permitted to follow the fasting times of Mecca for health reasons.
Ramadan is described quite eloquently and simply in the Quran, so that someone living in a rural place may self-direct their fast. The fast begins at the first sighting of the new crescent moon, the fast is controlled by astronomical twilight and sunset, and the fast ends when the first crescent moon of the next lunar cycle is sighted. For these reasons, Ramadan can start and end on different calendar days in different places, and in some traditions, a cloudy day can extend the fast by one day. By the way, this use of the crescent moon is why the crescent moon is such a common symbol in Islam, and on the flags of many nations (Turkey, Pakistan, Tunisia for example), and of the International Red Crescent.
Because the duration of the day is different based on where you are, many municipalities publish special Ramadan calendars, where all the times for each day are listed. This year, because the month is aligned right over the Summer Solstice, the days are pretty uniform, but when Ramadan falls during September or March, the duration of the fast may be more than an hour longer or shorter at the beginning and end of the month.
So that’s sort of the technical definition of what one is expected to do during Ramadan. But what is the experience of a day of fasting like?
In the morning, you wake up at about 3:10 to get ready and eat some yogurt and drink a ton of water. Water is really important, because it’s 38 degrees celsius here (close to 100F), and people are expected to work normally. After eating, at about 3:30, the mosque down the street will call the adzhan (also spelled adhan), and you will say omeen, and go back upstairs to bed.
And then, the day goes normally. Unlike in many places, Central Asia continues with its daily business during Ramadan, and there isn’t pressure to fast or to not fast. In Bishkek, the difference during Ramadan is almost imperceptible. In Osh, some cafes will close and fewer people may be on the street, but on the whole the net change is quite small. Less than half of people fast on a regular basis.
Compare this to places like Jordan and the UAE where everything shuts down, people sleep all day, then celebrate (re:eat) all night. Oh, and you can get thrown in prison for so much as holding a bottle of water in public. It’s very different here – while it’s considered rude, nobody is going to stop you from having a drink or ice cream in public.
Fasting and not drinking while working starts to take its toll around noon. Your mouth becomes dry and your stomach rumbles. You feel like you need to eat an entire animal. And there’s still nine hours to go.
By the time you’re on your way home, you feel faint, and you move slowly because of the heat. The hunger you experience in the afternoon is unlike anything I’ve experienced before in my life. There’s “I haven’t eaten all day” hunger, and that is nothing compared to this. But people here nobly keep their fasting status to themselves unless prompted; this is because fasting was restricted during the Soviet times, so across all of Central Asia, people fast for their own reasons, without talking much about it or advertising the fact. And, not everyone fasts. Many locals offer food and water according to cultural tradition to guests, often not realizing that they are fasting!
One of the reasons for Ramadan is to prioritize generosity and understanding of the poor. Fasting is a very tangible way to understand what people who cannot afford food feel like, and even just observing the fast for a few days cements this newfound awareness and understanding. By the time sunset rolls around, I am well reminded of this feeling, and am ready to break fast.
In the Middle East, fast is traditionally broken with three dates, but here we drink water or compot, a type of fruit drink (which logically makes sense after going 15 hours without anything to drink in hot weather). These dinners, called iftar, are wonderful social occasions, often hosted by families or mosques with many guests.
And, just as we break fast, one of the other wonderful unique Central Asian Ramadan traditions emerges: caroling, or Жарамазан (jaramazan). Every evening, a few boys and girls in my neighborhood come around, pound on the gates, and begin to sing.
The kids in this video sing the exact song that the kids in my neighborhood sing every night, and they always ask for a few coins or money at the end (this is also probably why this exact video is in almost every PCV blog on the subject – it’s the best one I could find, and it’s the exact song). The tradition originated in the region before Islam, but since then has come to be one of the wonderful parts of experiencing Ramadan here. In addition to the kids, there’s more formal Ramadan carols that are sung as well:
And here’s a full Kyrgyz TV news report on the tradition, which, while in Kyrgyz, also lets you see some of the more professional jaramazan singers:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P30xKsyF0AA
Finally, once I’ve stuffed my face and the kids have gone home to bed, the evening adzhan is given. During Ramadan, the last call to prayer at 10PM is actually often lengthened, and my neighborhood imam will usually recite his lilting prayer over the speaker for an hour or two. The music is beautiful and relaxing, and I really enjoy the feeling it gives as I drift off to sleep feeling more mindful of the world around me.
If you have the opportunity, I highly recommend trying fasting for one day, trying to refrain from saying bad things, and focusing on being positive. Hint: it’s actually really hard! I (attempt to) fast for several days each year during Ramadan, because it has taught me so much not only about Muslims, but also about the experience of the less fortunate – you don’t have to be Muslim to learn these lessons about kindness and generosity that Ramadan teaches.
Орозоңуздар кабыл болсун! Рамазан мубарак! رمضان موبارک! Ramadan kareem!
Got a question about Ramadan? Have you fasted? Considering fasting for a day? Let me know in the comments!