When I imagined my first Ramadan in Morocco, I imagined myself huddling in the most interior corner of my apartment, guzzling Coca-Cola and smoking cigarettes covertly into a toilet tissue roll stuffed with paper.  I was terrified; although I guessed that I could probably handle the not eating part of it, I was terrified of thirst and, at the time, a half-pack-a-day smoker (no lectures, I quit a long time ago!)

I had moved to Morocco in August of 2005 with a backpack, a job teaching English, and a dream of rapidly learning Arabic and integrating quickly into society.  After less than a month, and with Ramadan coming up, I figured the best and easiest way to do so was just to dive in headfirst, by fasting.  Of course, for a young woman raised in the most religiously agnostic environment possible, this was not an easy dive…as I would quickly learn.

To prepare for the experience, I decided to seek advice from my students.  I knew the basics – no eating and drinking from sunup to sundown, no smoking, modesty, and keeping a cool temper – but there were all sorts of questions that eluded me.  What about brushing my teeth?  My students were divided: half said it was fine, as long as I didn’t swallow anything, the other half adamantly argued against it (I avoided talking closely with them the whole month).  Perfume?  Okay in the evening, not during the day – and no makeup either.  Anything else?  “Don’t clip your fingernails the whole month,” one told me.  “You must read the Qur’an!” another said.  On the first day of classes during Ramadan, my students asked me “Nti saima?“  “Yes, and speak English!” I replied.  And almost immediately, the invites to join my students and their families for lftour began to pour in.

In the end, I fared well.  I took much of the advice given – I attempted to read parts of the Qur’an each day (in English) and didn’t wear perfume and dressed extra-modestly each day.  I fasted the entire month, save for one or two days when I was desperately ill (a little lftour food poisoning, it would seem).  I also brushed my teeth each morning, cut my nails when they became too long to type comfortably, and covered up a scar on my face with a little bit of concealer each morning.  Hey, I figured, you’re trying.

And in the end, I was glad to have done it.  One day while sightseeing locally with a Moroccan friend, I was allowed into the Maosoleum of Moulay Ismail (typically restricted to Muslims, as are most religious sites and mosques in Morocco) because I was fasting.  I only spent four lftours alone, and those were by choice (you can only take so much “kul! kul!“).  Despite my best efforts, I gained five pounds, but I also made a number of lasting friendships.

I’m not a Muslim (or a Christian, a Buddhist, a Jew, or anything else for that matter), but I am thankful for the experience that Ramadan gave me.  It helped me to see a part of Moroccan society most foreigners aren’t invited into.  It allowed me to share a bond with my friends and students that would have otherwise been marked by a dividing line.  But most of all, it helped me to understand its purpose.