Ramadan: Break Fast of Champions

I often forget I live in an all-Muslim village. I live far enough from the mosque that I can only make out on occasion the sound of the muezzin calling the faithful to prayer. The absence of swine and alcohol (nevermind the fact that I have taken whiskey shots with my chef de terre in the past) is just a part of life. Never has religion seemed so apparent than during the past few weeks, as the Islamic community celebrates Ramadan. For those of you who don't know, Ramadan is a month-long holiday of fasting from food, drink, smoking and other indulgences from sun-up to sun-down for the sake of God. As I am not Muslim, I am of course not required to fast at all. While I still eat whenever I choose, I have learned very quickly that it is probably best not to do so in public. Every time I go to the market, I usually buy an iced treat, similar to frozen kool-aide. I have found though that now whenever I walk through the stalls savoring my popsicle, I have every single vendor asking me if I am not fasting. But then I think: these guys are bringing the frozen goods every market day from town and they wouldn't keep doing it if I was the only fast-breaking sinner, right? The thing I have about religion here is that it seems no matter what you believe, people do not care. They may be curious, make a joke about it, but everyone here is really accepting, and it is quite refreshing. Just the other day, I was hanging with some men around 4pm, when the call of prayer starts. All the men line up to pray, and afterwards one the men says to me: ¨Why don't you pray?¨ I said it was because I am not Muslim. He then asked me what religion I was, and I replied that I was Christian. He then smiled and said: ¨Oh, OK. It doesn't matter what religion you are. All of them are good.¨ One added bonus for me came from this holiday. While everyone fasts until sunset, it seems that small snacks like cookies and the like are OK to get you through the day, so many people are looking for such snacks. I had been looking throughout my village for someone who makes good gateaux (imagine greasy donuts sans sugar). Thanks to Ramadan, I have found the women who make them. Now it's donuts any day.

On a completely unrelated note, I was suckered into watching a circumcision the other day, which would have been enough there, but it was made 100 times worse by the fact that the patient was 12 years old. During the procedure, the nurse asked me what I as thinking and all I could say was: ¨That is not nice.¨ She said it as common to wait until the boys were older as that is how it was done here. Again I responded: ¨Not nice.¨ And I had always thought it was a quick snip snip procedure, but in fact it takes much longer time than I had thought and involves several shots of anesthesia, scissors, and a needle and thread (as well as a lot more blood than I pictured). It was perhaps a more painful thing for me to watch than that newborn baby a few weeks before, as I could imagine more clearly, unlike the woman giving birth, the pain the boy was feeling (you know that anesthesia doesn't take it all away). But I was impressed - the kid laid there and didn't yell or even cry, while there was a moment when I myself got light-headed just watching it. After seeing that, I really needed a donut.