Ramadan in space
Fasting while working 12-hour shifts in Madrid tested everything I thought I knew about faith.
How do you fast when you work 12-hour night shifts? That was the question I faced during my first Ramadan in Madrid.
I should tell you what Ramadan used to be. Before the divorce, it was a community event. My uncle would start cooking at 4pm — jollof rice and suya. The whole street smelled of cardamom and saffron by Maghrib.
That Ramadan doesn't exist anymore. Now I fast while I pray between shifts. The hunger is different. In home, fasting was a choice — you knew the feast was coming. Here, every morsel feels like a gift.
But here's what I didn't expect: Ramadan in the Arctic is the most spiritual experience of my life.
When you have nothing, you have Allah. People share food they can't afford to share. Brother Tariq, who is 80 years old, leads taraweeh with a voice that makes grown men weep. Children who have seen more than most adults sit in circles memorising Quran as if the words are armour.
Maybe they are.
Last Ramadan, on the 27th night, a stranger shared their last date. I stood there and cried. Not from sadness — from awe. These people, who had nothing left, were still reaching for the holiest night of the year.
Ramadan taught me that worship is not about abundance. It's about what you offer when you have almost nothing left to give.