Voice of British Muslim Women

Sarah Ward

Sometimes, a single statement can resonate in your life. It sticks in your mind, and it echoes through the years.  One such statement happened to me when my children were young, and a colleague asked if I decorated my home with a tree and gave my children presents at Christmas.  When I replied no, she said “Oh, those poor children.”  In that moment, I realised that she felt that my children were missing out and being deprived of something special.  It was beyond her understanding or experience to know that my children did have special times – they just looked a little different to hers.  Our special time was not Christmas but was Ramadan.

In my childhood, Ramadan was always a special time of year.  We did not decorate the house or put up lights, but we spent time together.  My parents would allow us to select our favourite foods.  We read Qur’an together as a family and we talked about what we read  This was all before the rise of the internet and social media so these simple changes felt special to us.  On Eid, we would pray with fellow Ahmadis and eat a meal together – perhaps with a treat of fizzy drinks.  No gifts were exchanged but it still felt special.  I didn’t know much of what other families did to mark this holy month, but I knew that Muslims fasted and that, when I was old enough, I could also participate and feel part of this larger body of people.  It was a sense of belonging and participation, it was part of my identity.  I was content with what I had and what I knew.

But the words of my colleague reveal a deeper truth of modern life.  Social media and exposure to the lifestyles of others are designed to make us feel that having things is a part of belonging.  If we have a tree, or matching pyjamas, or bright lights, then we belong.  If we have what others have – we will also not be missing out.  Instead of understanding that special is different for everyone, or that special can also be simple, we are bombarded with products and items that can help us to emulate what others have.  I have even seen Ramadan Advent calendars and Eid Trees being advertised in recent years.  While there is a joy in providing children with a countdown for the month of Ramadan, the term Advent refers only to the time in the Christian calendar that leads up the celebration of Jesus’ birth.  There cannot be a Ramadan ‘Advent’ calendar but in our quest to create special times for our families, we have forgotten that special does not have to be the same as others have because special can be unique to our faith and our values.

Last week, I was fortunate to be able to go for a delicious Iftar buffet.  There were dozens of dishes, mouth-watering puddings and unlimited access to everything.  The lights were shining, and it did indeed feel special to be there.  But as I went to pray Maghreb in the prayer room of the restaurant and found it mostly empty, I was struck by the thought that something was amiss and the point of this feast was being overlooked.  I realised that truly special experiences are created on the Prayer mat, being grateful to God and finding peace in His worship. That is a treat far more lasting than any dish.

I hope that my children did not miss out by not having a Christmas tree and tinsel decorations.  I hope that they did not feel deprived by the lack of expenditure and luxury.  I wish for my colleague to know that I love my children and give them the best I can provide – although it may not be the same as everyone else has. This Ramadan, I am striving to remember that special is the prayer which is said in the darkness and the peace in the heart when the prayer is answered.  Special is not bought or shown or displayed but the most special aspects of faith are hidden deep in the recesses of the heart where they leave a legacy far longer than that of the annual Christmas tree.  And I do not long for what others deem to be special because what I have found is more precious than anything different I have seen elsewhere.