Ramadan takes on a good quiet meaning this season, seeing as COVID-19 restrictions disrupt rituals and gatherings found in Indonesia
30 April, 2020
The parking lot of a tiny shopping complex around my house was filled with a large number of cars parked within an unruly manner.
It was 5pm and a tiny band of men and women in face masks decided to go out of their homes to search for snacks for the upcoming iftar - the breaking of the fast.
Some headed to the minimarts to watch out for cold drinks and biscuits, while some made a beeline for the handful of hawkers selling sweet desserts, savoury fritters and colourful traditional cakes.
But there were hardly any queues as of this humble Ramadan bazaar in Jakarta, despite the fact that iftar was just an hour away.
The regular customers, personnel of near by clothing shops, hair salons and offices, were mostly absent thanks to the so-called large-scale social restrictions imposed by the location government to curb the spread of COVID-19, leaving many shops and buildings shuttered.
Not too far from the vendors were a small number of motorcycle taxi riders, their eyes fixated on the phones hoping that someone would order food from a nearby restaurant or iced coffee from an adjacent cafe.
Further down the driveway, some security guards were prepared to erect a metal barrier to close the shopping complex’s entrance. Beneath the social restrictions order, shops and minimarts must close at 6pm while restaurants are just permitted to serve takeouts.
By the time the decision to prayer was produced, signifying the finish of fasting for your day, everything ground to a halt at the shopping complex and even, in very much of the city.
Everyone had retreated back again to their homes to enjoy their meals with their own families, leaving the streets empty and desolate.
Unlike Ramadan in earlier years, this silence would last through the night.
The social restrictions order bans all kinds of religious gatherings while houses of worship have already been told to close.
This Ramadan, in my own neck of the woods at least, there are no worshipers flocking to the neighbourhood mosque to execute the evening Ramadan prayer tarawih.
There are no late-night Quranic recitals blaring from the mosque’s loudspeaker.
There are also no teenage boys and youths going around the neighbourhood in the early hours, hitting the electricity poles and lamp posts to wake persons up to allow them to enjoy their sahur pre-fasting meal.
MISSING THE LITTLE THINGS
The pandemic has changed how persons observe the holy month in the world’s major Muslim-majority country. But COVID-19 hasn’t changed this is of Ramadan.
It could be less festive but I was taught that Ramadan is approximately sacrifice, quitting our earthly desires, sidelining our urges and controlling our feelings in exchange for blessings from God.
I was as well taught that Ramadan is approximately empathising with the plight of others less fortunate than ourselves. And Personally i think quite fortunate.
All over the world there are more than three million people who have tested great for the coronavirus. Out of this, around 200,000 have died.
Meanwhile, there are an incredible number of health personnel on the frontline in the battle against COVID-19, who don’t possess the blissful luxury of being aware of their families out of concern with infecting themselves.
These unsung heroes need to spend long periods of time without food, drink and rest while working in their protective suits.
There are also those who have to work in other essential services, and the ones who've lost their livelihoods.
Quitting on my really wants to head out outside and setting my own boredom aside is a small price to pay for the health and safety of my family and others.
Nonetheless it doesn’t mean I don’t skip the little things in the fasting month.
I miss having the capacity to head to my parents’ house and having an iftar meal in concert.
I miss going to different Ramadan bazaars in several locations across the city to shop for food and snacks, or simply watch people.
I miss “ngabuburit”, the art of killing period before iftar which various Indonesians have perfected.
My ngabuburit ritual involves moving out with my camera to do some street photography or, when weather permits, capturing the glorious sunset peeping through the city’s skyline.
IFTAR FEASTS OUT OF THE QUESTION
Around this time this past year, there could have been invitations to possess iftar together with friends and families.
Some Indonesians would even contain iftar gatherings planned out for your month.
Restaurants would be packed with people seeking to stage communal iftar, particularly all-you-can-eat restaurants whose seats must be booked days in advance.
Ramadan used to be always a excellent time to catch up, rekindle older ties and forge new ones.
In a time when persons are told to stay indoors and eating places can only provide takeout, a gathering with an increase of than five persons could mean hefty fines or perhaps a jail sentence.
Some friends suggested on a WhatsApp group that people should have an online video conference during iftar instead of an actual meet up.
I could only imagine how chaotic that plan will be. Also well-organised, formal meetings could be afflicted by technical glitches and setbacks. Envision what it might be like when there are two dozen friends all striving to talk simultaneously, in a country with patchy Internet coverage.
Not wanting to spoil the fun, I said nothing while the others agreed, most enthusiastically. But at the end of the day, we could not choose a mutually convenient date.
IDUL FITRI TRADITIONS POSTPONED
One week into Ramadan, I cannot support but wonder the way the pandemic would change how Muslims in Indonesia take notice of the Idul Fitri holiday, which marks the end of the fasting month.
The government has recently banned the annual homecoming exodus from the cities to towns and villages.
Major roads have already been shut to buses and private vehicles while inter-city trains and passenger ships are cancelled until early June.
However the government has up to now appeared to be reluctant to ban domestic flights altogether, opting to create commercial flights available only to travellers on business trips.
And it is not merely the Idul Firtri exodus, or what Indonesians call “mudik”, which is affected.
On the eve of Idul Fitri, Indonesians prefer to celebrate the finish of Ramadan by singing “takbiran” prayers and pounding on the drums. They quite often do that in a parade by walking or in a convoy of cars, trucks and motorcycles.
Each morning, massive Idul Fitri prayers will be performed at mosques, parks or town squares.
We would go to the neighbours and relatives to symbolically require forgiveness and rid ourselves of recent grudges and mistakes. We'd also give money to their children and take in ketupat rice cake and chicken curry together.
And we would often do this inside our new shirts and dresses. Because let’s face it. Who would like to be caught using the same dress as the main one you wore this past year?
This pandemic isn't going away any time soon and these traditions and rituals will most likely have to be cancelled or postponed.
Nasaruddin Umar, the Imam of Southeast Asia’s major mosque Istiqlal, told a press conference on Apr 20 that we must all try to make sacrifices this Ramadan as a result of the pandemic.
These sacrifices, Mr Umar continued, include stopping ourselves from going to mosques and taking part in social or religious gatherings.
“Nevermind a pandemic of the magnitude, in a time of flood or heavy rain, the Prophet (Muhammad) once asked his supporters to pray in the home,” the cleric said.
“Stopping harm is normally nobler than performing good deeds.”
And even, Ramadan feels very different this year, particularly for all those, including myself who've been working from home these past few months as a result of the pandemic.
This fasting month, I still wake up before dawn to consume my sahur meal and go out at 5pm to buy snacks.
But the true difference for me is that this year, my wife, who's also working at home, will be together with me as we better appreciate the meanings of the fasting month.
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