Sawm
Mohon maaf lahir batin
Just before six o’clock, the Maghirb begins abruptly as it does everyday in the waning evening light. The prayer-call crescendos unto itself but also relative to the millions of Indonesians anticipating it. The Maghirb repeats over and over again, each phrase hinting urgency. The short pause between exhortations is deafening both in contrast and in understanding that that which you cannot hear sometimes resounds loudest.
Haya ala saleh
Haya ala falah
Allahu Akbar
La illaha ill Allah
Haya ala saleh
Haya ala falah
Allahu Akbar
La illaha ill Allah
Prayers too have their context. During Ramadan the Maghirb signals the break of the fast or Sawm, a period between sunrise and sunset when Muslims are asked not to eat or drink. With the sounding of the Maghirb there is palpable emotional release, less revelry than meditation. On the streets of Jakarta, the noisy bustle of life suddenly halts as if the world’s ambient volume has been noticeably turned down. Motorcycle riders stop their engines to sip water through plastic straws, helmets perched on their heads. Coworkers stand in multiple circles sharing food, nodding and gesturing in common ritual. A mother rests her hand along her young son’s back as she watches him lift a large bottle of sweetened tea to his lips. She whispers for him to drink slowly. There is plenty of time to drink now.
Prep for buka puasa
This year Ramadan began June 29th and ends June 28th. Ramadan according to Muslim belief coincides with Muhammad’s ascent to heaven to inspire the Koran. It is thus one of Islam’s holiest periods, directly linked to Islam’s five principles:
Shahadah: Declaration of belief in God and Muhammad as his messenger
Salat: Prayer five times a day during dawn (Fajr), noon (Dhuhr), afternoon (Asr), evening (Maghirb) and night (Isha), at least
Zakat: Donation of 2.5% of one’s savings to the poor
Sawm: Fasting and self-control during
Hajj: Pilgrimage to Mecca at least once in a lifetime
* * * *
This year I too observe the Sawm, though this was not an easy decision. Since I don’t get up for predawn breakfast or Suhoor, fasting for me means twenty straight hours without food. More significant, I am not Muslim. Without faith, the act of fasting can devolve into a test of stamina and willpower, not the point of Ramadan at all.
I decided to study before committing.
“But why not water?” I asked my office-mate Pancho. It is the thirst of the Sawr that is the killer. Not drinking when one is not thirsty is not normal. The throat becomes clammy, the tongue sticks and maxilla and mandible click and cluck.
“Why not water?” Pancho replied with the same question, “the point of the Sawm is not to be comfortable. If anything Ramadan is a time to understand and be compassionate because you are uncomfortable.”
“What if I get bad breath?” I asked
“Then you will be out of your comfort zone which is good,” Pancho paused to consider the horrid expression on my face, “but since you are new to this, you can brush your teeth. But don’t swallow. That would be against the Sawm.”
“I can do that,” I said.
Mia my program manager told me that it is the latter two weeks of Ramadan that are the most special. “Who cares that last year you fasted for one week,” she admonished, “One week is nothing. It is during weeks three and four when hunger becomes pervasive and you willingly supplicate yourself to learning about yourself through Him. It is both humbling and fulfilling. You must commit all the way.”
“Yes master Mia,” I said. Mia smiled.
“How about failure,” I asked Ayu during one of our Indonesian lessons, “are there consequences for breaking the fast?”
Ayu responded in her typical calm manner, looking at me in the eye while writing upside down key vocabulary for me on a 8 ½ x 11 piece of paper. “Allah recognizes human fallibility,” she explained, “if you unintentionally break the fast, for example, you accidentally take a drink of water but realize this and stop, this is not a problem. You just continue the fast for the rest of the day and the fast remains valid.”
“Who accidentally drinks water?” I asked
“Believe me it happens,” she said
Water at Musjid to bathe before Salat
“But if you intentionally break the fast,” Ayu continued, “then things are different. The Koran says you would have to 1) Free a slave, and if this is not possible, 2) Fast for three days to makeup the sin or 3) Feed and clothe sixty people in need. ”
“I choose slavery,” I said. Ayu looked confused.
My basketball friends were of contradictory help. The majority are Christian, eat through Ramadan and have a serious predilection towards pork. They reminded me of the time I began to pee blood following four games without drinking. This condition is known as benign hematuria, though tell this to the person standing at the urinal adjacent to you in the public bathroom. To this I only say, pay attention to your own stream.
In the end, I decided Ramadan should be practiced in the context of community. With Seongeun and the friends I spend time with on the weekends, it didn’t make sense to fast. This is not what they believe and it doesn’t mean more than a novelty to push it. Maybe this is what Vegans feel.
But Monday through Friday I do fast. It is my way of communicating respect to the majority of my colleagues. I still don’t pray (“What?” says Ibu Lilik, “just look up at the light!”) but the act of fasting helps me understand better Islamic belief and has even deepened my work relationships. Mbak Sandi is concerned that I am losing weight. (“You must Suhoor!”) Bu Mia has sent me a video link ( http://www.searchtruth.com/tv.php?tv=1 ) that shows the thousands of Muslims encircling Mecca each day in fulfillment of the Hajj. The accompanying prayer chant is soothing and sometimes I play it while I work. This causes the office support crew or “boys” to wander often into my room and wonder at the Taiwanese-American agnostic, contemplating on a blue rubber aerobics ball (“You listen too?”) At 6pm, before the thirty-minute motorbike ride home, I break the Maghirb with the drivers outside of the Tempo Office Building. I treat many to ice mixed with fruit, others to sticky Lontong with stuffed vegetables. We eat in quiet, chewing and swallowing in trance, listening to the Maghirb while admiring the darkening sky. The weather this summer has been strangely cool. I treasure these moments.
Physically and emotionally, the process of fasting has been rewarding. I still don’t Suhoor but wake up at 4:30 to drink two glasses of water before dropping back into sleep. I exercise at night after a short snack. At two in the afternoon, when the pit of hunger is greatest, I go to the bathroom, brush my teeth and undertake different projects when I return. What is obvious after three weeks is that the fast of Ramadan is not the point but the means. The opportunity for enhanced learning exists because hunger antagonizes ignorance. You feel parts of yourself that you didn’t before—the hollow of the body, the lining of the esophagus, the weight of your eyeballs, the pH of your breath. One has to focus to focus. The experience is much like a workout of the mind-- planned periods of stress that are repeated over and over until suddenly a burst of energy, an idea.
Blessings following Ramadan
There is fun within Ramadan of a different sort. Last Wednesday, my clinical team was at the public hospital in Serang reviewing the medical charts of the thirty seven babies who had died in the hospitals over the past six months. After five hours hours of work, Isti and Ben who are Christian and atheist, respectively, asked to break for lunch.
“What!” I joked in Indonesian, “you don’t observe the fast?”
I turned to the three Serang nurses helping us, all Muslim, their faces framed by beautiful jilbabs, “They don’t observe the fast,” I said.
The head nurse looks up at me, “You are observing the fast?”
I said, “Of course I observe Sawm, who in Indonesia does not fast?” turning towards Isti and Ben.
The nurse said, “but you are American.”
“America has millions of Muslims,” I replied.
The nurse said, “But you are not Muslim.”
“But I respect Muslims and fasting is good” I exclaimed.
“Fasting is good!” said the nurses in unison and in approval
“Fasting is good, Isti and Ben!” I exclaimed
Ben is American just arrived from New York City and doesn’t speak a lick of Indonesian. Isti, with whom occasionally play basketball after work rolled her eyes at me while no one else looking.
“Yes Doc, fasting is good,” Isti repeated in English, her tone sarcastic.
“What are you all saying?” Ben asked
I sent Isti and Ben off to eat.
Nurse conspirator
