Ramadan in Morocco —Perspectives from an Outsider-Turned-Insider

Six months prior to my move to Morocco, I visited my community’s Islamic Center to initiate Qu’ran study to take Shahada. For multiple and varied personal reasons, I made a commitment to convert to the Islamic faith. (I had been raised Catholic but became disenchanted with the increased politicization of that faith, and proceeded to gravitate toward agnosticism, Evangelical Christianity, and New Age Spiritualism, respectively in the ensuing decades).
On October 21, 2022, I achieved what I set out to do—my official conversion was complete, and I was supremely confident in every aspect imaginable of becoming a Muslim that I could and would fulfill the duties and obligations of the faith—inchallah. That was…except one…
Every situation in my life in which the word “fasting“ had been involved had invariably involved anxiety. As a teenager, I had experiences with low blood sugar and dehydration after working out that actually did cause me to pass out a few times, so I knew that sacrificing my ability to work out at a gym for an entire month was going to be necessary. I was also concerned about loss of ideal (or ALL) cognitive function at work.
Furthermore, advice from doctors (admittedly scientifically-proven) to take small and frequent meals to maintain ideal metabolism and keep my acid-reflux issues under control, had me concerned. In short, based on my perception of fasting, I was convinced that virtual personal Armageddon would ensue should I even go six waking hours without sustenance.
So it was with more than a little concern that I attempted my first official fasting day three weeks before the start of Ramadan in an attempt to prepare myself. (It didn’t help that the three days I had thought I fasted in October in preparation for my Shahada were not actual fast days because I mistakenly thought that fasting simply mean sunrise to sunset—having had no idea that the concept of fajr even EXISTED). Not exactly a way to boost the confidence!
For the next three consecutive Tuesdays, and for the first ten days of Ramadan, I would experience occasional hunger; but in reality, it was the start of the day at 4:30 A.M.–and my inability to fall back to sleep knowing I’d have to wake again in a few hours—that has been most challenging for me.
As much as I have tried, I have not been able to fall asleep any earlier than usual to try to accommodate the sleep deficit. Also, I have not been able to take a nap after ftour, and then wake and eat again, in an attempt to get in three total meals in a 24 hour period. Therefore, I have basically resigned myself to a month-long sleep deficit. And when I say deficit, I do indeed mean DEFICIT–averaging two or three hours of sleep per night.
However, it is now Day 13 and I am pleasantly surprised that I have so far survived! Ramadan has brought me a sense of strength and accomplishment, particularly at the moment of breaking fast. I have had the opportunity to break fast at home, with extended family members, and out in restaurants; however, one thing that they have all had in common is the astounding quantity and variety of food that I’ve never encountered in one place before in my lifetime.
Since arriving in Morocco, there has always been insistence upon eating large quantities of food placed in front of me, and while ftour has obviously epitomized this sense of hospitality and celebration, what has surprised me is the speed at which this food is consumed. For example, when I am half-way done with my first round, everyone else around me has already finished and is replenishing my plate. Maghreb is at 18:45 and the buffet at the restaurant is empty by 19:30.
Finally, what probably has taken me most by surprise has been the sense of urgency to break fast immediately upon the call of the muezzin at maghreb. This has led to some interesting observations on the highways around Rabat, in my recent experiences.
For example, this past Saturday evening, a certain person in my household—the one who owns the car—lost track of time cleaning the apartment and thus managed to get us from Temara to Sale in 20 minutes. Not to be outdone though, other cars were passing us. I should note that—for the first time in three months—I did not observe one single traffic law enforcement officer, so I am assuming that it’s common practice for traffic control to practice a laissez-faire approach to the Fast and Furious at this unique time of day and year. Still, when we arrived at our hosts’ home a mere five minutes after maghreb, we were met at the door with…“You are late!“
Prior to the start of Ramadan, I had made a commitment that I alone would be responsible for cleaning up after ftour (i.e., doing the dishes). I thought it was the least I could do, as the one cooking invariably invested two-to-three hours in preparation time. Let’s just say, I had no idea what would be awaiting me. By the third night of dish washing in which I spent 50-plus minutes, I was ready to launch all of our cookware possessions out the window and buy a new set. The next day, I suggested that we “just pick something up at Burger King“ to increase our free time and to give us a “break.“ However, this suggestion was met with allegations that I had an ulterior motive just to avoid doing dishes, and with a look of horror that we would anyhow be committing a sacrilege by not adhering to the traditional ftour routine every day during Ramadan.
Anecdotes aside, I’ve heard repeatedly that Ramadan was something that I would eventually “get used to.“ Obviously Ramadan challenges us to sacrifice, to not take things for granted, and to accept certain inconveniences. It’s a time to practice what we preach, to strive to do better. As with anything in life, we get out of Ramadan what we put into it. If approached with that kind of attitude, it makes one a stronger person than ever thought possible.