Ramadan, no longer in September!

Last weekend, I had an unexpected guest stay with me. No, it wasn’t malaria, a monkey, safari ants, or a time-traveling Isaac Newton. Prior to my arrival, two other volunteers had been stationed at Ihungo- Jessica, the gregarious biology teacher, and Joseph, the “computer wizard.” I keep in occasional contact with Jessica (actually, I tend to forget to write back; sorry, Jess), but Joseph and I had never emailed. That is, until two weeks ago, when he wrote to tell me he was surprised to find himself back in Tanzania, after nearly two years away. He’d planned to pass through Bukoba en route to Kigali, and so I invited him to stay with me here at his former school.
It was both interesting and refreshing spending time with Joe. A lot of the ideas I’ve developed and judgments I’ve made about Ihungo are similar to Joe’s own. Talking with him allowed a certain level of understanding that not even Jodi and I share, her living some five miles away. I found some of my thoughts on life here being reinforced, others put under a new light, and others challenged. All in all, it was fun to see how quickly we could bond. Before he came to stay for three days, we’d never had any discourse at all, and yet the mutual understanding that comes from two people struggling through the same trials enabled us to feel at ease almost immediately. And being able to share the ridiculousness of life here with someone was a great relief. Trust me, there are times when life here is very, very ridiculous, and I have no one to laugh about it with. (Case in point: just last week, one of my students explained to me why Asian people look different than European “wazungu.” His explanation? When the atomic bombs hit, the light was so bright that it caused Asians to have permanently squinty eyes, and the different color is because of the radiation. He even told me that before the bomb, Asians and white Europeans looked the same. How awesomely ridiculous is this? I laughed so hard.)
Another ridiculousness, but one Joe didn’t quite understand, is my new “diet.” Living in a country which is roughly one-third Islamic, I’ve had the opportunity to witness a fair amount of Muslim tradition. One of the Islamic practices that highly impresses me is Ramadan, the month during which Muslims are not allowed to eat or drink anything during the day (from about 6am to 7pm). Think about it- that’s thirteen full hours of fasting, without even water passing one’s lips. I wouldn’t want to be a Muslim during Ramadan anywhere in the Middle East, where the heat would have to make the thirst intolerable. In any case, I decided that I admired this practice enough that I would attempt it myself. Since I’m not Muslim, there was no particular reason for me to wait until September (the month of Ramadan), so I started fasting about two weeks ago. I wake up every day at about 5:30 and cook myself a small breakfast to get me through the day. Usually, it’s two pieces of toast, a small banana, and two eggs. While I eat, I knock back as much water as I can, plus some life-sustaining coffee. Then I go about my daily business until 7:30 at night, when the sun has gone down and I can eat again. For dinner, I have basically the same foods as I had for breakfast, with the exception of an avocado. After roughly thirteen hours of waiting, dinner is always miraculous, but never is it quite enough.
If you are asking yourself “why in the world would he want to do that? He must be insane” then I should tell you that, no, I’m not insane yet. I suppose my reasoning went as follows: “Man, those Muslims really fast for a month. I wonder what that’s like. I wonder if I could do it…” So I decided to give it a shot. Why not at least try? I knew that once I get back to the States, I’ll never want to try this again (thanks to a little restaurant called Jack-in-theBox), so its now-or-never. I’m not attempting to fast out of any masochistic impulses, or to save the orphaned dolphins, or anything like that. I’m only trying it to see if I can do it, and what it’s like. That’s all. So how have the last two weeks been? Long.
The last day before starting “my Ramadan,” I hung out with Jodi and cooked and ate as much as possible. As a consequence, my first day was pretty easy. My body was still working on my stomach’s leftovers. The three following days were agony, pure and simple. I learned two lessons very quickly: first, the thirst is always worse than the hunger; second, my metabolism was still burning along fast enough that my energy was spent by around noon each day. I’ve never been so weary, both mentally and physically. Sure, I’ve exhausted my body during races and work-outs, but this constant and utter lack of energy was a different feeling entirely. It’s hard to run the machine without fueling it. After several days, I thought I finally realized why so many people who can’t afford enough to eat just lay motionless all day long (but I’ve since corrected that impression). For real, I would go to teach and just writing on the chalkboard and speaking would completely exhaust me. Following a lesson, I would come home and lie down on my bed and stare at the ceiling for far too much time (usually I was daydreaming about what foods I would eat as soon as I get home. The favorites: steak, bacon-cheeseburger, sushi, Thai, pale ales, cocktails, salads, berries, Krispy Kreme doughnuts, and so many more). Each time I stood up after sitting for a long time, I would swoon and nearly pass out. The dizziness was killer. On occasion, I would try to play volleyball in the early evenings, hoping to pass the time until I could eat and drink again. While playing, I would only try for balls that came within about two feet of my arms; I might’ve been the laziest volleyball player of all time, if you don’t count Farkas.
Luckily, the first week was the worst. My metabolism has since realized that it was burning me apart, and has slowed down to match my new intake and output levels (which are substantially lower than they used to be). In fact, I’ve only spent maybe an hour daydreaming about food over the last few days. I have more energy in the afternoons now, as my body hasn’t wasted it in the mornings. Today, I played two hours of basketball, and never even felt dizzy. Sure, the thirst and the hunger are still there, especially around my former lunch-time, but at least now they are tolerable and I can push them to the back of my mind. This tells me that even if people don’t eat three squares per day, they can still lead active lives (squashing my earlier theory about lack of energy). The only time over the last week I've been tempted to quit was when I got a package from my mom. It had cookies, chocolate bars, and other candy in it, and I had the misfortune of opening it midmorning. Over the rest of the day, I squirmed with the knowledge that delicious chocolate was just sitting there, waiting to taste great. I managed to stave it off, somehow.
I’m not sure how much longer I plan on maintaining the fast. After only two weeks, my body has burned off so much fat that I’ve been feeling chilly all the time. Plus, the truth is, I love eating. I enjoy trying to cook new and tasty foods. Reducing my diet to bread, eggs, and fruits has taken that joy from me. So I’m not sure…do I keep it up for two more weeks to make my fast last an entire month, or do I give it up now that I’ve seen that I can do it?