This Ramadan, I remember my grandmother, the descendant of a Cherokee Indian woman and her African slave husband. When I look at a photograph taken of her in 1914 when she was a four-year-old in Georgia, I can see the foundation of her piety. Behind her stand my great-grandmother and her brothers and sisters with a sea of cornstalks behind them. In those humble surroundings, she learnt patience and the faith. She was the first person I had ever known to fast.
Her weekly fasts seemed to provide her a calm when many had turned to drink and drugs during the days when others were asserting "black power". She found power in another source. "I'm satisfied," were her words. She was content with what she had. She wasn't looking for the constant rush of excitement, fun or entertainment. Many times I would try to take her out on the town but she would refuse, saying she was happy right where she was. She wasn't a Muslim, but these qualities would have made her an admirable adherent if she had accepted the faith.
"I thought you are not to fast if you're sick," my daughter asked after I was overcome by a fit of sneezing on the second day of Ramadan. "I'm not that sick. I only have a cold," I told her. But even without a full day of the recommended treatment, drinking liquids and taking medicine, I managed to recover by the fifth day of Ramadan - a small miracle of faith, I suppose. I dare not skip a day for such a frivolous reason, not jut because of the "fee involved" in doing so: having to feed 60 people. I didn't want to feel that I was lazy or try to cheat Allah or myself.
As we pass the midway point of Ramadan, steadfastness is one of the keys to successful fasting. And it is this process that helps us fortify our faith. The UAE Government has called on Muslims to be messengers of faith, but it is only through this fortification and sacrifice that we are able to become an example to others for how the faith is lived. There are many people who are fasting, pursuing their duty to themselves and Allah. I see them at the masjid for tarawih. Every year they are there. But there are also those looking to perform charitable acts. "Do you think so-and-so needs this or that?" I frequently hear people ask.
The month of Ramadan becomes an intensive course in faith. Who has time for frivolous things? In reading a juz, in praying for forgiveness for themselves and others and through teaching their children the meaning of fasting, the power and importance of Ramadan, and of the faith itself, come alive. Suhaib Webb, an American imam, refers to Ramadan as Camp Taqwa, which means it's a kind of boot camp in which one comes out stronger and more in tune with their purpose. But he warns that we should not resort to our old ways as soon as the Eid prayer is over.
Even during the month, expensive iftars, even though they are providing a boost to many hotels after the harsh summer slump, are not the way to spend an evening in pursuit of the faith. I spoke to a manager at a hotel in Dubai's Festival City who told me that 80 per cent of the patrons for his iftar are Muslims. "Who spends an hour and a half to two hours at iftar?" he asked. "Just imagine how many labourers or poor families could benefit from the same expense?"
"Don't you feel dizzy without eating food or drinking all day?" one of the waiters at a coffee shop asked me the day before the start of Ramadan. How could I make him feel the Ramadan rush? I tried my best to explain to him the feeling as an event where I was able to get on a first-name basis with every cell in my body. "The rewards of fasting during Ramadan are worth more than the small sacrifice I am making by abstaining from food and drink. It's like paying two dirhams for a luxurious hotel room. With this fast I am building my house in paradise," I told him. He seemed taken aback by my fervour.
I guess the part that appeals to me the most about Ramadan after its spiritual benefits and the rewards is the challenge it presents: to go about your daily routine without food - to walk in the heat, to endure sickness and discomfort and not to give in to it. And then to feel your skin warmed by renewal. Ramadan is also an experience to share with Muslims all over the world. I remember coming home from work on a minibus in Istanbul one evening and hearing the maghrib adhan. "I have dates for anyone who needs to break fast," the bus driver announced. A box was passed around. Each of us had two sources of nourishment: one from the dates and the other from the closeness that Islam brings, especially during Ramadan.
Maryam Ismail is a sociologist who divides her time between the UAE and the US.