A time of empty plates and full lives

By JULIE MIDDLETON


Last Wednesday morning, Jafar Ahmed sat his toughest medical school exam, three hours on the function of parts of the human body.

After leaving the University of Auckland exam room, he joined ravenous friends in a chicken restaurant.

Jafar's friends ordered and ate, but he did not. The 19-year-old chatted amid the aroma of spicy grilled meat, but didn't touch anything - not even a glass of water.

Despite the stresses of study and exams - and the nutritional needs of a long-legged teenager - he has been fasting during daylight for the past three weeks, observing the central practice of the Muslim holy month of Ramadan.

That meant not eating during daylight - 16 hours a day in November.

For the Ahmed family - Jafar, father Owais, mother Waseema, and younger brother Zayd, 17 - fasting is an annual ritual of their religion.

Mrs Ahmed makes it sound not so hard.

"If you advertised a course in self-control, people would rush in to do it. It's just how you put it."

Ramadan was also a time to focus on good deeds, learn restraint and generosity, and reflect - she was, after all, "hungry by choice, rather than chance".

Fasting, or sawm in Arabic, aided "the development of God-consciousness". And if you lost a bit of weight, she added, that was no bad thing.

Christianity and Judaism also endorse fasting as a spiritual cleanser.

It is ordained in the the Muslim holy book, the Koran, which is believed to have been revealed in the month of Ramadan.

As well as abstaining from all food and drink during daylight, healthy Muslims who have reached puberty also refrain from gum-chewing, smoking, sex and gossip. This is the time to send Happy Ramadan cards; Muslims greet each other with the Arabic phrase "Ramadaan muburak" - blessed Ramadan.

Each month in the Islamic calendar starts with the sighting of the new moon, as ordained in the Koran.

So Ramadan started this year on Saturday October 16, making today the 26th of Ramadan.

It ends on Saturday or Sunday, when the next new moon is seen, and leads straight into the upbeat three-day festival of Eid ul-Fitr (or just Eid, pronounced "eed").

Ramadan is a time for a personal stock-take, says Jafar Ahmed.

"It's an opportunity to reflect on where my life is going and where I'm heading. It's polishing yourself."

His brother Zayd (pronounced Zed) Ahmed likens it to making New Year resolutions - "setting goals for the rest of the year. It's simple stuff, and you do it for the love of God".

When the Herald comes to visit on a warm Saturday afternoon, it feels odd to be offered a glass of juice and drink it, knowing one's hosts won't eat for at least six hours.

That the family is fasting "just is," says Mrs Ahmed, matching her ready smile with a shrug. "If you're fasting, so what? No fuss needs to be made."

But getting through Ramadan in good physical shape means cutting down on unnecessary activity and taking it easy, says Mrs Ahmed.

Jafar Ahmed admits that hunger can strike, mostly in the first few days before the body adjusts.

He turns temptation into incentive: "You distract yourself by remembering why you're doing it."

Seventh-former Zayd Ahmed says some of his Mt Albert Grammar schoolmates have felt sorry for him not eating. He appears nonplussed by the reaction.

"I didn't understand why they felt sorry for me. I was totally fine with it."

Jafar Ahmed says new friends are "curious at the start and they ask questions, but once they know they're really understanding. We eat like normal [during Ramadan] - we just cut out lunch".

He demurs when people apologise for eating in front of him; it's not necessary. Special treatment is neither sought nor expected.

"If you start making concessions," he says, "you've lost the spirit of it all."

The pair started Ramadan fasting before they reached their teens, but no-one can remember exactly when that was - 10 or 11, they think.

Their mother thinks they were younger. In those days, she says, every member of the extended family was fasting and peer pressure prompted the boys to join in, a few hours at a time at first.

"It was a gradual thing," she recalls. "At one end, you encourage them, and the other, you monitor to see they're OK."

On the day the Herald visited, the Ahmeds were up at 4am, about two hours before the sun, to have a substantial pre-dawn meal of chicken and vegetable curries, and yoghurt.

(Jafar Ahmed: "You have to check you're not over-indulging.")

The Ahmeds have a clock that allows pre-programming of alarms for the five compulsory daily prayers, the timing of which changes by a minute or two a day as they follow the Islamic calendar.

The device also points to the Muslim spiritual home of Mecca, in Saudi Arabia.

At 4.30am, the family prayed together in the living room of their neat Avondale home. Then they went back to bed.

On that day, they also prayed at 9.40am, 1.05pm, 5.58pm and 8.01pm, wherever they found themselves - time is more important than place.

After 8.01pm prayers, they broke their fast with sweet dates, a practice of the Muslim prophet Muhammad, before a meal with friends of a rice dish, kebabs, chicken, fruit and ice cream.

For 9.40am prayers, they were at the Avondale Islamic Centre in Blockhouse Bay. As Ramadan is a time of intense piety, the family made extra prayers before leaving.

For the Ahmeds, it seems that the family that prays together stays together. Busy lives scatter them, says Mr Ahmed; Ramadan's rituals, especially the fast-breaking meals, ensure they spend longer periods of time together talking.

The Ahmeds have been in New Zealand from India for three years.

The family's first language is Urdu, but all speak English, and to help them understand the Koran, they have learned some Arabic, the language of Islam.

Owais, Waseema and Zayd Ahmed were all born in Hyderabad, India, where about 12 per cent of the population is Muslim.

Jafar Ahmed was born in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, where the family lived while Mr Ahmed, university-trained in commerce, worked as a travel agent.

In New Zealand, he operates an airport shuttle service. Mrs Ahmed is a trained maths teacher.

The family chose New Zealand for its educational opportunities. That less than one per cent of the New Zealand population identify as Muslim had no influence on their decision to migrate, says Mr Ahmed.

Being Muslim is "individual, and you can practice your religion anywhere in the world".

At the end of Ramadan this weekend, the mosque will collect the family's charity donation, set this year at $5 per New Zealand Muslim.

The Ahmed's neighbours - there are 18 houses in their quiet cul-de-sac, with Maori, Fiji Indian, Chinese and Pakeha families among them - will also know at what point Ramadan has become Eid.

The Ahmeds will knock on each door to deliver sweets.

It's a gesture that invariably opens the way for conversations of the bridge-building kind.


The five pillars of Islam

The profession of faith: "There is no God but Allah and Muhammad is his prophet."

Prayer five times daily.

Giving part of one's wealth to the poor.

Fasting during Ramadan.

Making the pilgrimage to Mecca at least once.