The Fast

I hear my neighbors get up earlier than usual.  They're talking and laughing and frying French fries.

It's still dark, and this is Ramadan, the month of fasting.  People get up before dawn to eat a meal, usually something heartier than the normal fare of baguettes.  Breakfast needs to stick with them, since they won't eat (or drink!) again until the sun slips below the horizon.

The city is full of billboards, wishing people a happy Ramadan and advertising this brand or that.  All the supermarkets have special sales.  Even the phone carriers have promotions going on right now.

The sun comes up, and the streets seem oddly quiet.  In part, that's because the breakfast stands are all closed.  Almost all the lunch stands will be closed, too.  Even the bakeries won't have the normal stacks of baguettes at noon.

As the afternoon wears on, you can feel the collective tension of a city growing hungrier and hungrier.  Arguments break out on the buses.  People spit on the sidewalks constantly (not only are they not allowed to drink, many people believe they can't even swallow their own saliva while fasting).  Shopping in the markets is an unpleasant experience.  The lines at the bakery are now well out the door - everyone is waiting to buy bread (and baked treats) for the nighttime meal.

Finally, just as the sun disappears, everyone seems to vanish from the streets.  They retreat to their homes to break their fast - often with family or friends.  Dates are typically the first food eaten to break the fast.  This is followed by a meal, more elaborate than what they'd normally eat in the evenings.

I hear the talking, laughing, and feasting.  It will continue late into the night.  After a few hours of sleep, they'll wake up and repeat the process - again and again until the month is over, which will be marked with a big celebration called Korité.