An envelope, a pizza box: random acts of kindness
Rym Ghazal
Last Updated: September 24. 2008 11:46PM UAE / September 24. 2008 7:46PM GMT Ramadan is almost over, and it hadn’t been one of my favorites – mainly because my family is not here – until several touching scenes changed my ranking of this year’s holy month.
Holding a thick envelope packed with money, my Emirati friend Abduallah was adding yet another Dhs1,000 into it. “It is for our two Omani coffee boys, who have it rough,” he said with a smile as he casually put away the envelope. There was Dhs 34,000 in it already.
Abduallah went around the office asking if anyone would like to donate anything for the two coffee servers as a surprise for Eid. “I want them to have a nice Eid,” he said. On one of his visits to Oman, Abduallah had been invited over to their homes, and remembered how run-down and poor they were. “Hopefully they can have a different Eid this time around, and get some new gifts for themselves and their families.”
Now that is the spirit of Ramadan that I grew up with: a time of giving, reflection and kindness, not just to strangers, but to the people around you, whom we sometimes take for granted. I pitched in myself as, frankly, I haven’t come across beggars and I don’t think it would be appropriate for me, a girl alone, to approach labourers on a construction site and give them iftar or zakat. I like to feed a poor family or two during Ramadan, something I haven’t been able to do here.
The other instance that brought a smile to my heart involved a garbage bin, an old Pakistani man and three handsome Emirati men. I was driving around in a residential area where there were a lot of new houses being built when I saw an elderly Pakistani man going through one of the large ugly metallic bins parked along the corner. “Aha! My chance to do a charitable good thing in Ramadan,” I thought, so I parked the car and grabbed a whole load of money and got out of my car – to find out someone beat me to him.
Three young Emirati guys got out of their Range Rover and went over to the old man with their wallets and what appeared to be a pizza box. They patted the old man on his shoulder, gave him money and offered him their pizza.
It was so sweet.
I think the old man was in shock: he stood their speechless for a few seconds before blessing the three young men and wishing them well for their kindness. I couldn’t help but smile as everyone left with a little bit more faith in the goodness that sometimes comes when you least expect it.
Sometimes these instances of generosity and kindness in Ramadan are overshadowed by the hectic traffic on the streets and the crowds in grocery stores, and the short tempers and accidents that sometimes unfortunately accompany fasting people under strain.
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“How was your Ramadan this year?” my father asked me over the phone just the other day.
“It was OK, it gets harder as you get older,” I said.
“Tell me about it,” he said, laughing.
“Did you get your Eid outfit yet?” he asked.
Oops. I forgot. Because I’ve left it to the last minute, I will be dealing with the Eid rush now.
As Ramadan enters its final days, people shop around for Eid gifts for their loved ones and for new outfits and clothing, as is tradition, almost like starting a new day with a new fresh look after enduring a month of fasting: a treat after a month of patience and self-denial.
I heard a child squealing with joy as his parents picked out a new video-game system for him, with at least ten new games.
Lucky, I thought, and I admit, I was a bit jealous.
Tailors have stopped taking requests as they are overwhelmed with orders for new kanduras and abayas.
As is tradition in our family, we pick a colour or a special theme for Eid to make it interesting. My parents started this to keep us, the kids, excited and searching for creative ways to celebrate Eid.
“OK, what is the theme this year?” I asked my father.
“We will let you decide,” he said.
Hmmm. I happened to be looking at a photo of a swan.
“White! White like a swan, we each have to wear something white,” I said.
“Even the shoes?” my father asked, half jokingly.
“Why not?” I replied.
So I am on the hunt for a white outfit. I’ve already found a white skirt, so I’m looking for a white top that will match it, and white shoes.
Since we are all scattered about the globe and probably won’t be able to celebrate Eid together, we’ve decided to send each other photos of ourselves in our new Eid clothes.
What my family doesn’t know is that I might surprise them with a visit in Eid, and I will show up in a completely white outfit: and maybe, just for kicks, I will put on a red hat.
http://www.thenational.ae/article/20080924/OPINION/506176592/1080
