The Multi-Cultured Ramadan

Dubai is a multi-cultured city, with people from almost all parts of the world. And so is Ramadan here. I think the only similarity between these people will be the dates they take when breaking the fast. Even prayers seem to be different, if you really want to find any difference in it. When I go for tharaweeh, Masha Allah, what lots of people are there! With so many types of dresses, so much languages and yeah, so many type of prayers. Until Ramdan, I went to the masjid by the Malayalees, and so I never came across such a variety except while performing Umrah in Masjid-al-Haram.

Well, there are the Africans, may be Sudanese with their long hijab (I don’t know what it is really called) reaching below their knees. They are so tall and I feel so small when I stand with them during the prayer. The masjid near to us has got the 23 raka’th tharaweeh prayer. The Africans usually pray all of the 23 raka’aths.

There are some UAE nationals too. They come up fully covered from head to toe, with only the eyes opening. Once inside the ladies’ only area, they remove their abaya and hijab – and beneath it, it will be dresses similar to the western styles, sleeveless T shirts, jeans pants reaching up to the knee, or long sleeveless/ full sleeve but see through frocks. And there will be all sorts of make up on their faces.

There are also some Pakistanis who come in their Salwar-Kamees, with an abaya on top. The difference with the Pakistani and South Indian dressing is that Pakistanis use the shawl of their Salwar-Kamees as the hijab, but in South India we use the black hijab of the abaya itself. North Indians also have a similar dressing to that of Pakistanis. Some Pakistanis also wear the Niqab, which is very very rare in South India. During the prayer, most of the Indians and Pakistanis stop at the 8^th raka’ah, to be continued only during the last three of the remaining 15.

There is one woman who looks like a westerner, and speaks English. But there are so many who look like them and speak English like them. So I’m not sure. There are also other Middle East nationals coming from Lebanon and Iran. I love the way the Iranians dress – their long (????) I don’t know what it is called, a piece of cloth from head to toe which they wear while at prayer. After prayer they take it off, and beneath it they wear the usual dress – also my favorite, the topcoat and pants with a special type of hijab. I saw some Iranians keeping a piece of wood, round in shape, at the place where their head touches the floor while in Sujood. I don’t know why.

Some days I see some Mongolians too, I don’t know if they are from China, Japan or the –asian islands. They have long hijab, reaching up to their knee, and wear loose pants, made up of the same material used for the hijab, underneath.

The minor differences I find between the people are while standing for the takbir. Some tie their arms below the stomach, some on their stomach, some on their chest while some never tie it at all. Some of them tie their arm when standing straight after the rukoo’h. And while sitting for the ‘Aththahiyathu’ during the second raka’h, some people keep their fore finger straight all the time. Some open it at the ‘ashhadu alla ilaha illa allah…..’ and close it immediately after that. Some keep on pointing the forefinger till the end of the prayer, while some keep it opening and closing through out the sitting position.

I pray only 8 raka’aths, and then continue with the last three, so while waiting for the last three, I sit and watch all these differences between people. And the children, they also make a difference. While the Pakistani and Indian children are busy playing around while their moms are at prayer, the children of Middle East nationalities stand with their moms in prayer. May be the reason is, in India (I don’t know about Pakistan), the Imam and other people of the mosque discourage children in the masjid. So they never get a chance to learn the importance of masjid at the younger age. But in Middle East, it is entirely different. You can see children from 3+ months in the mosque. They get to learn the importance of prayer and masjid at a younger age.

About thte iftaar, I don’t know much about the food of other countries, because I have never gone for such an iftaar. Once I went to an iftaar by a UAE national. There were many dishes of which I didn’t even know the name. I recognized the haleem and custard. The main food was kabsa, and I loved it a lot. It was a dish prepared of raw rice.

So, Ramadan is fun, with this variety in the muslims. You can call it – unity in diversity

People Who Never Learn.

It was my friend, working in the HR department of XYZ company, who related this incident to me.

One fine morning, she saw a tall and blonde women waliking towards her. She seemed to be in her late twenties. The women upon reaching her, asked, “Good Morning, Madam. Can I get an appointment with the HR of this company now?”
My friend, Nancy, replied, “Good Morning, and I’m from the HR department of the company.”
“Oh, thats good. I’m Augusta Denwarks, working in ABC company for the past three years. I’ve wanted to leave them since last year, but they are not going to give me a leave.”
“So why don’t you work with them?” Asked Nancy.
“Because I want to work in this company. You see, I speak English very well as I am an American with a scotish mother. I’m beautiful, tall and intelligent. I can …….blah, blah, blah….” The lady went on speaking.
“Fine”, interrupted Nancy, “Give me your resume so that I can forward it to the HR Manager.”
The women started searching her heavy ladies bag. After a few minutes, she dug up a visiting card, and handed it to Nancy.
“Thats my visiting card,” said Augusta to a stunned Nancy, “You can call me in that number for appointing an interview.”
“But we need a CV from you, to give you an interview.” Nancy tried to make her understand.
“You need a CV?” asked Augusta. “No problem.” She started searching her bag again. After some two or three whole minutes, she came up with a pen.
“Give me my visiting card.”
Nancy returned her her visiting card. She scribbled something on it, and gave it back to Nancy.
“Now that’s my site address. You can download my CV from it.”
Nancy felt herself fuming. She wants the interview, and I should download her CV for her, Nancy thought. But she had to be polite with customers.
“But madam, we want a CV with your photo in it.” Nancy explained to her. She saw the faces of her co-workers turning towards her.
“You need a photo? Please wait.” Augusta searched her bag once more. This time it was a CD.
“Please take a print of my photo from this. There are five of them, you can print whichever photo you find suitable.”
Nancy had no more politeness in her towards this weird job seeker.
“I want a printed or emailed version of your CV, Ma’am. And it must be in the MS Word format.” Nancy found her voice raising beyond the limits. Her colleagues where curiously watching her to see how she managed the situation.
“Ah! Have you got an email id? Please give it to me so that I can forward my CV to you.”
“Its nancy dot 1982 at the name of this company dot com.”
“Ok, what’s the name of this company?”
“You don’t know the name of this company?” Nancy was more than stunned. She noticed her surprise on the faces of her co-workers too.
“Sorry Madam. No.” A geek reply.
“Its XYZ, madam.” Nancy replied.
“Thank you, Madam. I ill forward you my CV within two days.” Augusta replied.
“You are most welcome, Madam. Have a good day.” Nancy smiled, happy to see off this person.
The entire HR department roared into a loud laughter as soon as Augusta closed the door behind her.

I remember my earlier post about the interviews I had, and how westerners are good in their behavior. But when Nancy described this incident to me, I felt there are some westerners who haven’t yet learned the way to behave. And yeah, Some People Never Learn.

Do you think we are oppressed?

Did you say we are oppressed,

When in our veil, we are dressed?

When we cover ourselves from wandering eyes,

And keep our decency in front of guys,

You want to say that we are oppressed?

Women are oppressed, when you say,

I’m sure you are in ignorant way.

‘Coz my dad kisses me sweet, everyday

And say, ‘To paradise you are my way’,

For those who care for their little girls,

Allah assured them a heavenly home of pearls.

Yet you say, in Islam, we are oppressed,

When in decency we are dressed.

Who deserves the chocolate first,

If not his girls, and only then, the rest.

That’s how the Prophet did

First to the girls, and then the other kids.

But you look at our dresses

And decide, the women, Islam oppresses.

The paradise, to you, is not further

Than under the feet of your mother.

And straight to heaven, angels drag her

When in her delivery, death finds her.

Still you say, we are oppressed,

When women in Islam are greatly blessed.

Don’t you know in history, when women lead war,

And they traveled fearless, near and far.

It was Islam that gave them a dignified self,

And made her proud of herself.

But you shout women are oppressed,

When in truth, in Islam, women are blessed.