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Written by Atty. Zainudin S. Malang
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Wednesday, 20 September 2006 |
Now that I am renting a flat in one of Metro Manila’s central business districts, it is hard not to miss observing Ramadhan while staying in a Muslim community. It is only by observing this holy month while amongst my fellow Muslims that I can truly experience the communal aspect of fasting.
I am now in the midst of skyscrapers. There are no nearby mosques that I can go to break my fast and perform the evening Taraweeh prayers with other Muslims, nor are there minarets that will announce the start and end of each fasting day. When I leave my apartment, people I meet on the streets do not greet me “Ramadhan Kareem”. And as I look around, the buildings around me do not have the lights, streamers, and banners that usually remind me that everyone else around me is also engaged in the same act of self-denial. At midnight, the streets are empty except for a few cars and there are no people milling about waiting for the Tahajud prayers.
Previously, I was staying in Maharlika Village which is one of the big, if not the biggest, Muslim enclave in the largely non-Muslim metropolis. Maharlika Village is a Bangsamoro community located in Taguig with inhabitants numbering at least 10,000. It boasts of at least seven mosques, at least one school that integrates Madaris curriculum (Islamic studies and Arabic language) into the regular (reading, writing, math), a computer training institute, several foundations, a government office, and halal meatshops and cafeterias.
Among its inhabitants, you will meet people from practically all of the Bangsamoro ethnic groups – Maguindanon, M’ranao, Tausug, Yakan, Sama, Kalagan, etc., and even a sizable number of Balik Islam (reverts to Islam) and foreigners. Its inhabitants also represent a cross-section of Moro society – from Governors and congressmen, to transient overseas contract workers, students, migrants, and economic migrants. In the more than two decades that I have known the place, it has always had a Muslim barangay captain.
A few days before the start of Ramadhan, Maharlika Village goes through a transformation. The air becomes ripe with expectations, a welcoming mood becomes apparent on everyone’s face. This, of course, never ceases to amaze me since one would normally expect that the onset of a period for abstaining from even the smallest amount of sustenance from dawn till dusk will be greeted reluctantly. Instead, people normally exclaim “Thank God, He has allowed us another opportunity to perform fasting”.
On the eve of the first fasting day, the entire community reverberate with the sound of calls to prayer, lectures, and Qur’an recitations that are broadcast from all of Maharlika Village ’s seven mosques. Family, friends, and strangers greet each other “Ramadhan Kareem” or Glorious Ramadhan.
On any other month, the daily routines of the residents are the same as that of any other residential area in the metropolis. People are more lively and active during daytime and then begin to slow down at sunset. During the fasting month, however, the reverse happens. The streets are quiet during the fasting hours but as sunset approaches, the streets slowly become filled with people going to the mosque to break their fast and perform their prayers in unison. Each kitchen too becomes busy preparing meals to end the fast for members of the household as well as those in the mosque. One all too common act of kindness during Ramadhan is to feed friends and even strangers at sunset. Households would take turns cooking for and feeding the congregation at the mosques. I and my friends would often break our fasts at each other’s homes, if we are not joining the congregation at the mosque.
The Muslims in the Philippines are not homogenous and are divided by various socio-cultural factors: ethnic background, social status, economic standing, geographical origin, etc. But come Ramadhan, no matter what their origins or status are, they collectively engage in what has to be the most profound act of humility and solidarity by overcoming their natural instincts simply because God told them to do so. Rich or poor, educated or illiterate, Muslims are supposed to abstain from food and drinks from dawn till dusk; to devote whatever free time they have night and day to prayers and contemplation; to grab any chance they get to perform an act of piety and kindness; to absolutely refrain from any act hurtful to another. Ramadhan is a period to spiritually train ourselves so that we may learn to adopt the right demeanor for the rest of the year.
As a physical and spiritual exercise, fasting during Ramadhan or Sawm is undeniably rigorous. But the knowledge that I am joined in this exercise by countless others makes this month bearable. I know my hunger is also the same hunger that the next person feels. And when I break my fast, either with family at home or with the entire community at the mosque, the satisfaction of my first sip of water or piece of bread is heightened by sharing it with others.
I remember, years before, observing Ramadhan while working for a large consulting firm in the heart of Makati . Being the only Muslim in the office meant there was no one with whom I could share the experience. My officemates could only give me curious looks during lunchtime when I would stay back at the office while they all go out for lunch. But since I was still staying in Maharlika Village then, I could always look forward to breaking my fast with my fellow Muslims. Whenever my workload allowed it, I would hurry home at the end of the workday to be with my family, or with friends at their house, or with the entire congregation at the mosque. Years before, as a college student in Quezon City , and years after that, as a law student in Makati , or as a post-graduate student in Japan , or as a participant in an academic competition in the United States, I went through basically the same experience.
This year, just when Ramadhan is about to end, I had a chance to see the clear distinctions between how it is to observe fasting within and outside a Muslim community. As the month is about to end, I decided to proceed to and spend a few days in Cotabato City after attending an overnight conference in Davao City. Whereas the offices, establishments, and residential buildings in Makati are adorned with Holloween décor, here Ramadhan is everywhere.
Ramadhan greetings are on streamers hanging on the streets and on house windows; newspaper greetings are also taken out; minarets are festooned with colorful lights; the city plaza is lighted at night; radio stations broadcast Qur’an recitations and Ramadhan announcements. At 10:00 p.m. the other night, I was at the city center. Together with the city mayor and his wife, we were smiling as we watched hundreds of people at the town plaza who were either sitting as audience of a Qur’an reading competition or enjoying the night bazaar. Earlier that night, I had coffee at a friend’s house together with another friend who, as customary during Ramadhan, also invited me to break the fast with him at his house the following day.
The variance in experience notwithstanding, there are some things about fasting that will always remain true wherever one may spend it. While the beginning of fasting is greeted with welcome, its conclusion is accompanied by a strange mix of gratitude and melancholy. One is grateful for the opportunity to renew and reaffirm their faith. At the same time, one feels sad that it is about to end. Fasting during Ramadhan is an act of profound humility so strong that it can only be described as liberating and those who are able to perform it with utmost sincerity can only wish that liberating feeling can be extended for the rest of the year.
Ah, but there is always next year. God willing, we will observe Ramadhan again.
Ramadhan Kareem! Eidul Fitri Al-Mubarak! Maaf Zahir Batin!
(Atty. Zainudin S. Malang is the Director of the Center for Moro Law and Policy. This article appears under his for the Mindanao Cross entitled "From the Plains of Kutawato". Comments may be sent to
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For more information and booth reservation on the upcoming 1st International Ramadan Fair, please call 884-1706 or 952-6419 to 20. Look for Mona. |
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Last Updated ( Monday, 25 September 2006 )
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"There are certain developments that respond to increasing globalization in general and the post-September 11 war on terrorism in particular. An organization that spans both Mindanao and Manila is the Young Moro Professionals. Well-educated -- often doctors, lawyers, journalists, or others with advanced degrees -- this younger generation is qualified to compete in a globalized economy but also feels compelled to speak out on issues concerning Muslims in the Philippines."