I choose joy.

“Are you guys ready for Ramadan?”

“OF COURSE MISS!” my students cry in happy chorus.

For some other classes, I change it up a bit. “Are you excited for Ramadan?”

“YESSSSSSS!!! WE SO EXCITED!!!” Some of my boys literally bounce out of their seats with unbridled enthusiasm. They beam at me and cheer. The room brims with joy.

I can’t help but grin back at them. Their enthusiasm is contagious.

But, my initial thought in response: How can this be?

I. ANTICIPATION.

At first I was taken aback by how excited my students were. What could be fun about waking up even earlier than they normally would (4:30 am instead of around 5:30am) in order to eat sahur, the light meal before dawn and prayer? What could be fun about fasting from dawn until sunset?  No food and no water… in this Malaysian heat??

It wasn’t just my students though. My neighbors, who I talked with two days before Ramadan, were bursting with excitement as well. Among other things, my neighbor fervently described how Ramadan was a time to strive to be a better person and foster compassion for the poor and hungry. Most importantly, it was a time for reflection and a chance to delve deeper spiritually. While thus rhapsodizing, he literally glowed. He even reflected that when Hari Raya* finally came around, he actually missed fasting! (I balked. How could one miss fasting?)

In response, I casually mentioned that I was considering fasting. (Solidarity with my students!) At this, his wife, who had obviously been eavesdropping this whole time, suddenly popped out from behind the screen door, “You can break fast with us!” I nodded; she was absolutely thrilled.

In the days leading up to July 10^th a different energy swirled about the school. It was the energy of anticipation: announcements about Ramadan speakers, preparations for a weekly Ramadan Quizbowl, and meetings about using lunch/recess as a period to read portions of the Qur'an (students were no longer eating after all). The canteen was revamped into a prayer space, tables cleared and mats framing the edges, ready to be laid out at a moments notice. The head cook cheerily reminded me that the canteen would be closed for the entire month and I would have to bring a packed lunch. (Granted I was planning on fasting during the school week, so this information didn't really apply to me. But, it was interesting to learn that the since the Chinese teachers didn't fast, they'd bring their lunches and eat in one of the side offices, out of sight of the Malay teachers. This was done out of respect for those fasting.)

For a couple of days the main teacher’s table was replete with a vast array of crunchies and munchies. Teachers brought cookie/snack jars to the bilik guru** for other teachers to taste test. They milled about passing each other jars and waving partially eaten biscuits in the air while animatedly discussing the merits of each.

Once again I was surprised. But you’re going to be fasting! Why suddenly all this fuss about cookies? ...Ah, silly me. I then realized that after fasting all day, obviously one had to think of the ammmazing meal one should break fast with. Come sunset and following the Azan, it was time to berbuka puasa, or more literally "to open the fast." Of course some delicious cookies would be a wonderful addition to that nights meal. Plus, a lot of these cookies were to be pre-ordered for the coming Hari Raya celebratory feasts during the month of August.

So, instead of looking at fasting through a lens of lack and deprivation, as I had ignorantly done for most of my life, I was starting to realize that it was much more than that. It was a month for soul and spiritual enrichment. What's not to be joyful about? However contradictory it might seem to say this about Ramadan, there's even a beautiful fullness about it.

II. 

In such ways, bits and pieces of the Ramadan puzzle have been clicking into place. Chunks of my misconceptions about Islam have been crumbling away, even if only little by little. For this I am thankful.

Coming from a country that has a complicated history with Islam—well, “complicated” is an understatement—I was surrounded for a good portion of my youth by clips of towers collapsing into ominous clouds of smoke and hands across wrenching hearts while the camera mercilessly panned across row upon endless rows of star-spangled bannered coffins. Hard-jawed news anchors jabbed accusatory fingers at pixilated images that supposedly harbored mass-destruction and in all, the air was poisoned by hateful myth and soul-rotting fear of a veiled and turbaned “other.”

Ignorance and fear are terrible things.

In place of these, I have now seen another side. I now have images of my beaming neighbors and my grinning students.

“Miss? You puasa***?”

“Yes, I puasa!”

I pause to let the words sink in. Their mouths form little “O”s and their eyes widen in astonishment. The “O”s stretch and widen into dozens of happy grins and thumbs ups signs. “Oh! Miss… You puasa! Very good. Verry good!”

I have instead witnessed joy,

and that has made all the difference.

*Hari Raya literally means “celebration day” in Malay. Celebrating the end of Ramadan, it’s one of the biggest holidays in Malaysia. More on this later.

**Bilik Guru: teacher’s office
***Translation: "Miss? You are going to fast for Ramadan?" Puasa is the Malay word for "to fast."