Fast or Feast

We’ve now entered the holy month of Ramadan, the effects of which permeate every aspect of society. We are spared the shopping jamboree which marks a modern Christian festival but there is still a commercial aspect. The irony is that fasting focuses everyone’s attention on food, and preparations to break fast dominate, seemingly to the exclusion of the fast itself.

It’s more than food though. Ramadan should be a time of piety and goodwill to others, but I’m sure that on the first day I detected the nuance of a slightly cavalier attitude. The town roads were a bit busier in the evening and the engine note of the small motorbikes, the main form of transport, had just the touch of a manic edge to them; the throttles were opened a tad wider producing (or reflecting) an excitable busy buzz replacing the usual languid day to day routine. Here is the contradiction; the month is meant to symbolise humility and meekness but the fast, particularly going without water from sunrise to sunset in the heat and humidity of Malaysia, is inevitably is seen as a challenge. Human nature is such that enduring the privations gives a sense of achievement which is not necessarily consistent with the sought after state of piety.

I read in The Straits Times that the Solid Waste and Public Cleansing Management Corporation estimate that the citizens of Malaysia waste 9,000 tons of food each day of Ramadan. The month of fasting is dominated by food! Stalls have been set up throughout Kuala Kangsar to tempt fasters with delicacies. They get going in mid afternoon with grilled chicken, kebabs, dishes with rice and all manner of things deep fried which people take home in little plastic bags in readiness for the call from the Mosque at 7.29 pm. Liz and I perused the 200 metres of make-shift kitchens near where we live and chose a variety of things for dinner one night. It was an opportunity to sample some dishes that are not generally available, but by the time we got to eat the food it was long past being freshly cooked and we didn’t really feel the need to repeat the experience. In the larger towns the end of the fast is catered for with all-you-can-eat buffets where hungry fasters pile huge amounts of food onto their plates in an orgy of eating which sits unhappily with the spirit of moderation and thrift that Ramadan is meant to engender.

The other aspect to the fast is that it is a shared experience of a kind which no longer exists in the culture I was brought up in. At one time Christian worship ruled the lives of Europeans in a similar fashion to the Mosque, albeit with fewer prayer times. The church was far more than just a place of religion and with churchgoing in our society becoming a minor activity we’ve lost much of that social fabric which knitted our communities together. Lent was once a time of real fasting leading to the great celebration of Jesus rising from the dead. I am told that the daily breaking of the fast is as nothing compared to the feasting at the end of the holy month and this pattern of hardship leading to a great celebration must generate a strong community spirit.

Inevitably as an observer I pick up on the most noticeable and the most extreme aspects of the culture. Most people are quietly following the tradition of their religion and perhaps gaining from the sacrifice. Going without food is one thing but being denied water in this climate can be a real hardship. The sensible way to cope with the fast is to stay out of the sun and do as little as possible, which gives a sense of an otiose self-indulgence where participants elevate themselves to being above their ordinary duties. 

Ramadan has laudable ideals but ironically there is a distinct danger that the result can be a lack of exercise and overeating.