Being from a Lebanese family, like many ex-pats in Kuwait, we were a single the parents and the kids. We didn’t have an extended family, it sounds sad, but it actually wasn’t. Thanks to my parents we had a huge family of friends. Many of their friends felt like our parents and grandparents. I felt this, particularly in Ramadan.
Our house was not a Ramadani house. No one fasted or participated in the rituals. Yet, everyone, I grew up with celebrated every part of it. My strongest memory of Ramadan was having fetour (break of fast) at Noor’s aunt’s house. The adults will be always chatting, and the kids would be sitting together. Her aunt would have a lot of fun stories.
One Ramadan she had a very abundant spread of food, that felt something straight out of a cartoon. There was one Ramadan that I decided to try fasting, and I barely made it. I didn’t think I would survive. Walking into her aunts I smelt the strong waft of Bukhoor (incense) and food. She gave me fresh laban (buttermilk) and sweet dates to break my fast. The food was particularly delicious that day, specifically the rice, I can still taste it.
(Illustration by Deborah Difiore)