Ramadan 2019: Day 4-5

Unfinished books at the site of fighting

The stress was starting to become unbearable. Walid was in a bad mood on Day 4 and I also had a ton of work. We talked with my classmate a bit and I drank two cups of coffee, despite my intention to quit. My classmate was frustrated over the thesis of his paper. We also discussed whether or not to accept my other classmate's dinner invitation. 

I planned to skim through some books at the library, which I did not finish. We fought over the restaurant of choice with other students shushing us. Walid was resistant against going to my favorite falafel place. I thought that Walid was being picky and (male-)ego-centric. He explained that the restaurant’s staff did not speak to him in Arabic. I thought that reason did not qualify as a valid, since I as a non-first-generation Chinese speaker, I found speaking my “ethnic” language to be extremely distressing under circumstances such as a racist city like Boston. The staff in question was not a first-generation immigrant, so I tried to reason on those grounds. Walid said he heard him speaking Arabic to the other staff. He also pulled out his “customer” card and said that as a customer he would like to be treated in the best way possible. I remembered later that Walid, as a long-time worker at a certain falafel establishment in New York, would have such strict standards. Walid probably suffers from his profession, which is to emphasize certain aspects to meet the ethnic expectations of the various customers who visit their business. I myself have had such expectations when I visit falafel places.

We decided to go the overpriced Mexican-indigenous restaurant, which was also close. Walid apologized on the way. He broke his fast with coffee and we entered the restaurant ceremoniously. I ordered a plate of shrimp for $20 and cried over the food due to the upsurge of my past traumas as a student who cannot afford to eat at this place even after long sessions of studying. I started right before it was almost too cold. The waitress gave Walid dirty looks, while the customers continued their merry end-of-semester conversations. Walid ordered fish tacos, which was quite ordinary but a safe choice. I was still hungry after we finished, and the weather was still cold despite my winter clothes. I suggested we go to Cheesecake fact0ry. We ordered a Lyft and I continued to express my stress. Walid apologized again. I ate a veggie burger and Walid ate the 30th-anniversary chocolate fudge cheesecake. He said he wished that we could also celebrate our 30^th anniversary in the future.

I thought later that Ramadan is a time where the gift economy is very robust: people take turns inviting each other and celebrate over the bountiful amount of food and kinship. In Khaleeji as well as Indian and Chinese societies, such opportunities are not limited to the month of Ramadan. I experienced many instances during my teenage years in China, from both men and women, oftentimes without any strings attached. I have still yet to invite those people back.

In the U.S., I have yet to find that type of non-monetary gift economy. There were starts of it between my roommates and me, but it soon broke down under various factors (including the fact that one of the guys used the gifts to start dating one of the roommates at a quite shocking speed). Sometimes our department has a non-monetary exchange of food, but there is always the premise of studying and working after eating the food. It is called “free food.” Even during Ramadan, Walid has started to call his iftars “free” food. But it is much more ritually significant. He joked that the smaller neighborhood mosque has better food than the bigger mosque downtown. He also can put down a lot of pretenses at the smaller mosque, since the feeling of community is stronger. Ramadan in America is more special because of the lack of other gift economies. Yet who is responsible for giving the gift, between a relationship as ours?

At the 2^nd restaurant, I felt better. But at some point, when I tried to speak Arabic with Walid, he started using it as an opportunity to show off his literary skills in pun and satire. I misunderstood the pun and started to remain silent in anger. Sometimes Walid performs his Arabic for no conversational reason, except that he is in conversation with himself or people not present. We share the same levels of peculiar thought patterns and both recognize each other as majnoon. We put on rational masks to face the other people in life, and we have yet to come to an agreement on how to coordinate our masks together so that one does not inadvertently expose the other.

I recovered from my anger and finished some of Walid’s cheesecake. We walked to the T stop. He stopped by DD to use their restroom. I was hesitant to go, but he said since the staff is of a certain racial makeup, they would let him use it for free. I sighed and waited for him.

The frequently seen poster in the metro these days
"An Idea. A Movement. A Musical"

At the T stop, I finally reconciled bits of Walid's personality with what I experienced today--''I guess we are both idealists, and it is hard to live by those ideals."
Then as soon as we entered the train, we saw a poster of We Live in Cairo, a musical about the revolution. I expressed some exaggerated exasperation and pretended to tear out the poster. We cannot escape our dreams, even if we tried to forget them. Walid later posted along with this picture, "هرب من قلبي اروح على فين
ليالينا الحلوة فكل مكان
#25_January"

By the time we arrived back to my place, I was so exhausted and slept immediately, only to be interrupted by many nightmares.

Day 5

I stayed at home and found some new followers on my Chinese social media page. One interesting person, Aroush, goes to school at SOAS and blogged about an event by Dr. Dhiren Borisa that explored queerness, sexuality, and caste in India's gay-dating apps. Fascinating work. I read some parts of Ahmed Shabab's book Before Orthodoxy and articles on the downfall of the Abbasid Empire. There seems to be an underlying argument among many non-Arab scholars that Islam's spread started as an elite-Arab-centric, patronage state. I wonder if the universalizing message of Islam truly reached its intended effect under the rule of the Ottomans. I am appreciating the larger (dynastic) picture more and more, despite my older inclinations to look at very specific sites of historical change.

I also started using the Word-counting website recommended by Put Away the Globe to document the number of words I write. Another scholar, Chao, also messaged me in Chinese about questions regarding liberalism and property law in India. I found some literature and sent it to him, despite his usual air of cliquey, faux sincerity. My classmate, who entered our institution this academic year, also found out on this day that our library was closed for the next week to prepare for graduation. I thought to myself, space for learning and research is so limited and there are always bosses keeping our time. Our lives are dependent on arbitrary management who don't prioritize our needs. Our slacked attitudes are rather consequences of neglect rather than active protest...

Walid attended iftar at the larger downtown mosque and met some new people.
Ramadan is also about trust: how much do you trust the person in front of you that they do not mind that you are eating and drinking as usual? How much do you trust the people who are donating food to have good intentions? How much do you trust the host of the location to not make this event into a free-for-all?

In the evening, I met up with Walid at our supermarket. I went in first while he was on the train. He guessed correctly that I took a nap as well as my precise location in the supermarket. The supermarket had deals on haagen dazs ice cream and we fussed over it until we finally got the $5 discount. I did not feel like cooking and ate bread and cheese prepared by Walid at 10pm. I have been playing host at my place, but now the roles are shifting as Walid becomes more familiar with his new environment.