Too Busy to Decorate

The last two weeks have been extremely busy for me. Is there anyone who approaches Ramadan without a busy schedule, I wonder?

Anyway, both weekends were completely full (one with an Al-Maghrib seminar, and one with a tiny vacation with my husband), plus I had a number of additional appointments scheduled to wrap up the first phase of a health/nutrition program I'm participating in. Then a get-together with a friend, which ended up laying me out for the rest of the day. Then volunteering to teach a short halaqah (which became two), and then a last-minute birthday party too!

Even as my son kept asking when we would decorate for Ramadan!

There was always something I needed to do first--including cleaning the house, which itself felt more of a Sisyphean effort. Tonight, at last, it was time. Never mind that Ramadan officially started at maghrib today. While my husband took my son to the masjid to pray, I returned from another masjid and was able to quickly declutter my living room enough to prepare for decorations.

And sure, we were up a bit late. And the decorations aren't anything particularly special. But my son was excited to pull out these decorations (especially the lights.) He was excited for days, and already associated the coming of Ramadan with setting up the decorations. While it seemed to me a minor (and sure, slightly tedious) task, it served as a memorable tradition and a few moments (maybe an hour?) of delight. That made it all worth it. 

Why I Say Scarf Instead of Hijab

It's not uncommon, as a Muslim woman who covers her hair, to get asked about that headcovering. Years ago, the standard answer to those questions was always to talk about the "hijab." For example, "It's called a hijab and it's a sign of my faith," or "Hijab is how Muslim women veil themselves," or "Hijab means for women to cover their bodies except for their faces and hands in loose non-transparent clothes."

Hijab is of course an Arabic word, and most muslimahs (Muslim women) I've met do use the word hijab, at least amongst themselves, to refer to their headcovers, even though that's not the literal or original meaning of the word. Khimar is another common Arabic word for this purpose, which has the benefit of being the word used in the Qur'an to talk about headcovers.

And I have no problem with any Muslim's or non-Muslim's use of either of these words.

However, I've found myself increasingly using the word "scarf" to talk about my own headcover, especially when talking to non-Muslims. Why?

First, it's an English word that is more natural and easy for English speakers to use. If necessary, I may say "head scarf" to distinguish from "neck scarf." Overall it makes the entire concept less intimidating, by not using a word that might be foreign to the listener. Using a word they already know, its easier for them to talk about it. I've found that some people, in trying to avoid incorrectly saying a foreign word like "hijab," they resort to other words (like "headgear") with connotations that aren't quite appropriate, or which might be confused with another concept, (like "veil," or "burka.")

Second, by using a neutral word like "scarf," in addition to being easier to talk about, the otherness of the concept can also be reduced. Of course I wear my scarf for religious reasons, and many Americans might view it as being strange because religious headcoverings are rare in our culture nowadays. Calling it "hijab" gives the impression that it's just for women "over there." It might even heighten the perception that it is a means of oppression. By using a common word to describe mine, I'm introducing it as a common and simple part of an American wardrobe. After all, isn't it likely that most Americans have at some point worn a scarf around their necks?

So instead of the hijab feared as foreign or repressive, it can more easily become a beautiful thing, not because it's exotic but because of its purpose and practicality. 

Ramadan Kareem on Burlap

This is the first time I've ever made my own Ramadan decoration and I'm really excited about how well it turned out. It's pretty simple--burlap square from Target, and copying a graphic I bought online. I feel motivated to try even more ambitious crafts now, after discovering how easy (and inexpensive) this one was. 

I Don't Know How to Cook

Cooking baffles me. What should be a simple daily household task seems, to me, endlessly complicated, to a point where the more I learn about anything the more confused I become.

Compounding my struggles are a few issues:

(1) I never learned to cook while growing up, and what I did learn is ridiculously unhealthy.
(2) I am extremely obese and eating for my health is critically important.
(3) I converted to Islam in my 20's, which puts some restrictions on (or at least requires modification to) what I'm able to eat and cook.
(4) My husband hails from another country, which has a vastly different food culture and cuisine than the one I grew up with.
(5) I have a toddler with his own nutritional needs, who is often picky about trying new foods.

(1) To start with, I didn't cook much growing up at all, except to bake cookies--which I did once or twice a week. This is how I learned to read a (simple) recipe and to enjoy the fruit (well, cookies) of my labor. Unfortunately, one should not subsist on a diet exclusively of cookies. When it came to cooking proper food, the two basic problems were that (a) I hardly ever helped my mom cook dinner, and (b) most regular meals were halfway prepared anyway, and most are disqualified for me now for religious or health reasons.

For example, one common weeknight meal that I was capable of cooking would be a simple spaghetti with meat sauce. We would typically prepare it with ground beef, a jar of Ragu sauce, an additional can of tomatoes and tomato sauce, and spaghetti, topped with some pre-grated "Parmesan cheese" that came in a green canister. There are a few problems with this meal for me currently. First, pasta isn't something I can eat on a regular basis right now, and mostly I avoid it entirely. Second, the jar of Ragu contains additives like sugar which are bad for my health, and "natural flavorings" from beef or chicken stock which cause a religious problem. Most of the fruit and vegetables we ate came out of a can--with the notable exception of potatoes. My mom cooked potatoes many different ways, but unfortunately potatoes are another food I generally avoid for health reasons. As another example, one of my mothers signature dishes was a slow cooked BBQ pork--it was a highly popular item at potlucks but since I don't eat pork now, it's not something I can bother with now.

(2) The second problem is finding foods that are "healthy." The problem is that what qualifies as "healthy" seems to be under debate even by nutritionists. For example--eggs are good for breakfast, or no? For a while people said the cholesterol was a problem and eggs should be limited, but now more popular thinking praises eggs and tolerates saturated fat. Something like a bagel used to be considered very healthy (it seems like a lot of people still see it that way) while now many more people condemn refined flours. In my own experience, strict limitations on sugars and refined grains helps with weight management, so that's mostly what I do. I'm following a plan called the "Slow Carb Diet" which restricts grains, sugars, dairy, fruit and potatoes to one day a week, while meats, vegetables, and legumes may be eaten abundantly.

(3) Being a Muslim, the foods I eat must be halal, which affects my kitchen in a few ways: meats, alcohol, and some other miscellaneous items. As for meat, there is absolutely no pork, or pork products. And what is left (can include beef, goat, lamb, chicken and fish) must be slaughtered a particular way (except for the fish.) So I buy my meats not at a grocery store or market where I can ensure they are free-range or grass-fed, but at a halal meat shop where I first (and in some cases only) can be sure the animal was slaughtered correctly. Shopping at a small butcher kind of operation makes it harder to find some of the items I'd like to cook--for instance, steaks. As for the alcohol, that means I don't drink it or cook with it (that is, with beer, wine, sherry, or any sort of alcohol used in cooking.) That can complicate things for me, because a lot of recipes call for some sort of alcohol. And lastly, I must also avoid a whole host of supermarket products that contain alcohol or non-halal animal products. Ultimately, it forces me towards more home cooking, and from-scratch cooking.

(4 and 5) I'm also responsible for feeding my husband and son, whose needs (and tastes) aren't necessarily the same as mine. My husband is from Pakistan, and while Pakistani cuisine is delicious, its also oily, spicy, and often eaten with roti/naan (breads) or rice, which I'm avoiding. So I also need to balance that style of cooking with my own preferences and abilities. I can cook a few Pakistani dishes because I've been taught specifically how to do so. Unfortunately as I didn't grow up with this cuisine, it's difficult for me to improvise or adapt the few dishes I can cook. And toddlers are just toddlers--he likes what's familiar and easy to eat. Unfortunately, that means a lot of chicken nuggets (halal variety--not cheap) and macaroni and cheese (no way this is good for him.)

My husband has also been kind to me, in our 6 years of marriage, by not demanding any cooking at all, much less any particular cuisine. But now it's been six years, we have a 3-year-old, I desperately want to be healthier, and I want us all to enjoy home-cooking every night. It's time for me to figure out this mystery in the kitchen.

Out like a light

Here they call it load shedding--a sign of one of the world's most corrupt governments. That is, an inability to supply its populace with enough energy to meet its demands. The problem is not a lack of fuel, my husband explained to me, but corruption in the government. As much as I really love Pakistan, load shedding makes it look ridiculous on the international stage.

At home, when the power goes out, it sometimes causes a small panic--depending on the reason. Sometimes a car hits a pole (local, minor inconvenience). Sometimes a storm will knock down some lines--which can be trouble if the storm is, say, a blizzard, leaving you without heat or a way to cook food. (Time to make use of that fireplace and camp stove finally!) Or a major inconvenience if the storm is a hurricane and clean water could be a primary concern. (Or if you're 14, the primary concern is probably the lack of a/c in September heat… Fran.)

But here in Pakistan, for minutes or hours at a time, it can seem very run-of-the-mill. Back-up power is generally supplied by a UPS (uninterrupted power supply) box, which will power a few essential things, like a single light in most rooms (important at night) and ceiling fans. What surprised me most about load shedding when I first came to Pakistan was just how it didn't seem to affect anybody at all. Without paying attention sometimes, I wouldn't even know when the power was off.

During the day, light isn't an issue if a room gets natural sunlight. The only real problems it caused me on my last visit were erratic internet access and not having any light in the bathroom at night. Sounds trivial to you? I wasn't doing my hair at 2am! Try stumbling around in the dark when you've got to go! Somehow we managed to fit a few flashlights into our bags this trip so hopefully that won't be a problem if I get sick again. Also, now we're using a wireless broadband device that creates a WiFi area when powered by a USB port. So I plug it into my Surface (Surface 1 iPad 0) and can get internet almost anywhere in the house--on any other device, too. Sounds amazing, right? Actually, it's prone to overheating and cuts off all the time too.

One day I was dining at a restaurant when the power went out. For a moment the kitchen went dark (this could be a real issue, as prepared food needed to be kept at a certain hot temperature) and then a generator had the lights and everything back on. Everything, that is, except the cable--a manager came by and turned off the TV that was showing only static.

Now I'm used to it. Though I'll admit, a few times last year I wondered why people were entertaining us in such dimly lit rooms. (A large room with one isolated light on is just that--dim.) And then the lights came on.

I guess the people here get by--and just deal as best they can with the randomness of the power situation, never knowing when or how long the lights will be on. So the load shedding has become just a part of life, I thought, like the setting or rising of the sun. Since I first wrote this post up, though, I started to notice more about the lights going out.

For starters, the times without power seem to be growing, and becomes more of an issue than just sitting in dim lights at night. If the lights have been out most of an afternoon, clean clothes pile up waiting to be pressed the next day. The adhan for jumu'ah was made before all the boys' suits were ready last Friday.

Our food at home is generally prepared using a gas stove with two burners. There's a microwave in the kitchen but if we want hot salan (curry) or roti (bread), you'll need to heat it on the stove which of course takes longer. The baby and I are also only drinking filtered boiled water--which means that one burner is often being used to boil water.

In reality, we have it pretty easy. There are plenty of families, I'm sure, without a UPS who have a much harder time. The government really should be ashamed and embarrassed that it can't keep the lights on.

KFC and Pizza Hut

Yesterday I ate a salan* that was so spicy, I think I ate half a container of yogurt just to finish a few spoonfuls. It was capsicum qeema, or basically a lot of green chilis and a little bit of ground beef. So when my husband offered to take me to KFC, I was very excited. I thought my mouth deserved a break from the desi food with a classic from the colonel.

The fries weren't spicy. Too bad we weren't interested in eating them.

Sorry to say, it was not what I expected. I haven't been to a KFC in a while but I'm pretty sure that what we ate wasn't anything close to original recipe. I did manage to get some corn on the cob, though--a definite win.

Again tonight, Umer ordered some pizza from Pizza Hut and I thought, yay, American food. I was trying to put Zakariyya to sleep when it arrived so he brought me up a plate of what he called "desi pizza." I thought he said that just because it had some spicy meat and a lot of onions on it.

Nope.

In place of the tomato sauce was something else that after about one slice practically turned me into a fire-breathing dragon. Is there no relief?

This, I'm sure, is why so many of my friends underestimate my spice tolerance--so I don't leave with a lot of burning in my mouth and little food in my tummy to show for it. And special props to my mother-in-law for all the awesome salans that are always at just the right spice level. Ammi Jee knows best!

 

*I guess a salan is what a curry is… I really don't know how else to translate it. It's the spicy meaty saucy good stuff that you eat with roti (flat bread) or rice.

This sign was posted at the KFC. It says they condemn the blasphemous film about the Prophet (pbuh.)

 

Lizards

Lizards are the local pest. They seem to find a way through even windows that are screened. So if you dare open your window… watch out for lizards. I found one in our bathroom last year--at first it freaked me out. They move so fast! This year one snuck in and hid behind the clock on the wall and I haven't seen it since.

Another lizard got into our room last year, though. And it was a really tiny one. It snuck into one of our suitcases… and there it remained. I discovered it some 9 months later in North Carolina, all dead and dessicated, when it fell out of a snapped pocket in one of my bags. So it made it to America without a passport--to Seattle, and then even to Raleigh, before I discovered it.

After which, of course, I took a picture of it.

Dead lizard