:: 2008
Saturday September 27th (day twenty seven)
It's weekend and, after a relaxing day, it's a hell of a lot easier eating later. At least I won't be beating myself up when I go to bed this evening.
Friday September 26th (day twenty six)
It's impossible – almost, to do Ramadan with non Muslims on social occassions. Tonight a close friend of my boyfriend's came for dinner and I am, for social life's sake (a trivial and arguably fickle cause), I ate when it was still light outside.
Thursday September 25th (day twenty five)
THERE'S only six more days of Ramadan and I feel like I have let myself down. I have had some successful days, but then there has also been several days in which my will power has been weak. I do feel a sense of shame in the fact that young teenagers uphold restraint for the entire Ramadan period and yet I – an adult, fail.
Wednesday September 24th (day twenty four)
IT'S been a killer of a day – with five articles due by midnight. I feel so weak willed, because I simply can't resist resorting to a sugar fix to keep me going at 4pm.
Tuesday September 23rd (day twenty three)
I'm sat at the computer with chronic writers' block and the only solution as far as my mind os concerned is a cheese and pickle sandwhich. RESIST RACHAEL!
Monday September 22nd (day twenty two)
It's getting to the end of Ramadan and I've only just got the hang of it. Well, sort of.. For the suhoor I am eating healthy, slow-burning foods that will keep me going all day. But it's fitting it around my boyfriend that's the hard part. “You're sleeping in the spare room if that alarm goes off again in the early hours,” he has threatened, but thankfully, it has remained just a threat.
Saturday September 20th 2008 (day twenty)
It's another difficult day. I'm out for day with Mum in Liverpool but – despite constant offers of a 'nice cup of tea somewhere' I resist. It's very very difficult, and I feel guilty for being so anti social.
Friday September 19th (day nineteen)
I fell asleep in the staff room at work today. As a result, I have resorted to a flapjack and custard. I have a belting headache, feel dizzy nd have another five hours of work. Am I allowed to eat under these circumstances?
Thursday September 18th (day eighteen)
TODAY was another easy day in terms of fasting, though I am still struggling with worship and what to do. I am alone in my house at 4am with a copy of the Qu'ran, a curious mind but I need guidance. I know Ramadan is coming to an end so I realise these next ten days are precious.
Wednesday September 17th (day seventeen)
It's noon and it's the most hellish day of the week. All my deadlines are due – rock and pop, motorcycle articles – everything, or so it seems. I'm starving. I can't eat and I feel terrible.
Thursday September 16th (day sixteen)
As I have said before, fasting as a non Muslim is easy until non-fasters are thrown in to the mix. Today, as with every other Tuesday, my Grandad comes for tea. As I am rarely in Rochdale I don't see him half as much as I would like, therefore my time with him is precious. But at 8pm I have to dash back to Sheffield to cover a gig for work (Duff from Guns 'n' Roses plays at the Academy). I have to eat with the family at their tea- time in order to spend time with Grandad. So, while I'm breaking the rules, it's for a worthy reason. I have let myself off though I feel rather guilty about it.
Monday September 15th (day fifteen)
There's not much to say about today as I'm finding it quite easy – I've just driven back to Manchester so until 10pm my attention was diverted from the fact I was absolutely starving. Pat on the back Rach!
Sunday September 14th (day fourteen)
Today I've been very naughty. My brother is racing his motorbike near Darlington and all the family is here to watch. My parents are staying in a motor home and throughout the day droves of family friends drop in to see how Thomas (my brother) is getting on and to be force fed endless tea and cake by my Mother. Unfortunately, she's also force-feeding me!
Saturday September 13th (day thirteen )
Fasting during the weekends is hard for me. My boyfriend is at home, feasting on glorious concoctions while I refrain. Waiting until dusk to eat is likewise a challenge, but I suppose it's all character-building.
Friday September 12th (day twelve)
Finally getting up extremely early is getting easier – and the fasting is getting easier too. However, I don't feel I'm fully connected with the spiritual formalities in terms of worship, so one of my old school friends – a devout Muslim, has offered to do it with me. Unfortunately this is in Rochdale, so it will have to be when I am working again.
Thursday September 11th (day eleven)
TODAY was harder than ever. I rose in time for twilight, ate and refrained from eating but it awsn’t without a fight. Watching colleagues scoff jacket potatoes, yoghurt and chips wasn’t easy. Avoiding food also had repercussions for my head – later on I felt tired and was plagued with a headache. Is this normal when fasting?
Wednesday September 10th (day ten)
Still exempt.
Tuesday September 9th (day nine)
In order to prepare my body for fasting I thought I’d try and ‘cut down’ on chocolate and all the snacky junk I devour between meals. This vow lasted about two hours, until I discovered a stash of deluxe creamy milk chocolate in the fridge. My willpower failed me.
Monday September 8th (day eight)
I’m still exempt. But that’s not to say my mind isn’t on Ramadan. While I’m not technically fasting, I’m still asking questions. Today I spoke with one of my very good friends, a Muslim young lady who is also fasting. She suggested I joined the family to break one of the fasts next week. Since our chat she has been texting me at 4am and after the breaking of the fast at 8pm to see how I am getting on. I feel guilty that I’m still not taking part – but there’s nothing I can do about it.
Sunday September 7th (day seven)
A BEAUTIFUL voice fills the studio here at BBC Radio Sheffield as it broadcasts its Ramadan readings. All of the Ethnic Broadcasting team is fasting, except me, which makes brewing up a doddle.
I’m also doing some swatting up on the BBC Sheffield’s Rules and Regulations page. There are so many complexities to Ramadan - to a non Muslim it is both baffling and fascinating. I had no idea that the punishment for deliberately breaking a fast during daylight is an extra sixty days’ fasting.
Nor did I realise that the Taraweeh prayer can last up to an hour. I am worried I may misread a passage in the Qu'ran, or fail to find a prayer in English - I wish I had a mentor - any offers?
Saturday September 6th (Day six)
It’s a hectic day today. I’m covering Magna, the Love Music Hate Racism event in Rotherham. Throughout the day’s entertainment, one message is consistently clear – that racism, on any level, should not be tolerated. Joining in the message are Sheffield bands the Alvarez Kings, Reverend and the Makers and Leeds’ Kaiser Chiefs. At 5pm I dash back home and stuff my face - an impulsive indulgence I must not get too accustomed to this, as next week my Ramadan begins.
Friday September 5th (Day five)
I can’t believe that I have been getting up at 3.30am for four days when I didn’t have to. That’s masochism! I am still exempt from taking part in Ramadan, due to ladies’ reasons beyond my control. But if I am honest, I am dreading the day when I have to properly start.
Thursday September 4th (Day four)
I’ve been doing it all wrong, or so I’ve been told. I’ve been trying to continue with Ramadan even though I’m exempt, due to ladies’ reasons. But I am led to believe that there are certain things menstruating women shouldn’t do, such as read the Qu’ran.
I have decided to wait until I can fully fast and then throw myself into it. I had no idea how complex Ramadan is, and each time I think I have resolved an ethical problem in my head, I discover a rule to contradict it. I will seek proper advice, as I have entered this naively. Watch this space.
Wednesday September 3rd (Day three)
I’m ashamed of myself. It’s 7.15am and I didn’t have the strength to get up at 4am this morning. My only excuse is that I was absolutely shattered, with far too many looming deadlines to risk being inefficient. But that’s not good enough – there are millions of Muslims across the world getting up at 4am and staying up to work in tough, demanding jobs, yet they manage.
I am comforted by the local newsagent, who is also fasting. I explained that I have been eating cheese on toast and reading the Qu’ran early in the morning, and that I wasn’t sure I was doing the right thing. “You don’t have to read the Qu’ran,” he said, “We say a prayer.”
His advice was equally useful on the food front: “Perhaps you should eat something with more fibre, like Weetabix,” he said. The daunting prospect of eating Weetabix every day at 4am for four weeks must have shown on my face, “It’s ok,” he said, “The first two days are really hard but then it gets easier.” ‘Thank goodness for that,’ I think.
I feel more confident now about what to do. I’ll get hold of a prayer, eat something proper and concentrate on worship.
I find Ramadan hard – very hard, especially with no one else at home taking part. But it does focus one’s energy on spiritual matters. For four weeks we must not be distracted by material needs, physical urges or greedy whims – what better way to concentrate the mind on higher matters. Knowing that thousands of Muslims across South Yorkshire are also grumbling as they step out of bed at an uncivilised hour is reassuring, and uniting.
Tuesday September 2nd (Day two)
Once again my alarm rings in time for twilight. But today it’s harder to get out of bed. I wonder whether it’s going to get harder, or easier, from now on. Although I’m exempt from fasting due to biological factors I still get up and check BBC Sheffield’s Ramadan section, to see what I should be doing. In accordance with the guidelines I read the Qur’an, which lives high up on a shelf (where I was advised to keep it). It’s a small, paperback version I bought in Islamabad more than three years ago and the confusing translations make it a challenging read. But nonetheless I plough through it – taking each line of the Holy text slowly. I am not sure whether I am doing this right, but I will try my best.
But while I concentrate my attention on the Qur’an I fail to conjure up anything decent to eat. Once again, it’s toast – only today it’s burnt toast and a stinking kitchen (my toaster breaks and starts smelling of burnt plastic). I am seriously failing in this department but it’s so hard to eat full stop at this time – let alone cook up a feast. My respect for dedicated Muslims is growing on a daily basis – particularly as my own ability to stick to the rules seems to be waning. Let’s hope I’m stronger tomorrow.
Monday September 1st (Day 1)
It’s 4am and my alarm bell’s ringing. ‘This is it,’ I thought to myself. ‘This is Ramadan’.
I’ve never observed Ramadan before. I come from a white, non-Muslim background, one in which religion has never played a big role. I’m not even sure I have ever even taken part in Lent, a walk in the park compared to Ramadan.
But here I am, at 4am, with some cheese on toast and a cup of tea. I can hear my neighbour, a lovely middle-aged Muslim from Lahore thirty years ago, clattering about her kitchen preparing her feast. I am half tempted to knock on her door. Her culinary delights are bound to surpass my crummy cheese on toast.
Up to now my first Ramadan is going rather well. It’s a bit weird getting up at 4am, leaving my boyfriend blissfully sleeping as I go and stuff my face, but other than that I’m feeling confident.
As my arm automatically goes to switch the kettle on I realise how cocky I was to assume this was going to be easy. Of all the things to sacrifice tea is the most difficult - especially the first brew of the day. I’m climbing the walls with withdrawal symptoms and looking for any kind of distraction - grabbing a barbeque stick and extracting grime from the cooker edge being the most effective one. But it wears off, and I am back to almost giving in. It’s not until now, as I crave the fine-bone china treat, that I realise how difficult Ramadan is. But, as level of sacrifice required dawns on me, Radio 4’s Thought for The Day comes to my rescue. A Muslim speaker discusses the necessary human training Ramadan imposes, and that the easiest option, i.e. giving in, is not the best, relating the experience to doing a superficial weeding, only to discover the weeds grow back as fast as ever. I must not give in, however much I want a cup of tea is sickly, bonding.
Far from a celebratory religious event, Ramadan is endurance – not just a party. There is no feast without famine. And before I get even gushier, I must go and buy some Weetabix.
