Growing up as a child in the United States, Eid Al Adha held surface-level connotations – I cared far more about the clothes and presents, and not so much about the religious significance of the holiday. To be honest, it was largely an excuse to skip a day of school and dress up in native Pakistani clothes (which I would only wear a few times a year), often sewn by my grandmother. I would wake up early and run straight to my parents’ bedroom, and hang around until they presented me with “Eidi” money, which would be the equivalent of about Dh100.
Sometimes I would also find small gifts at our “Eid tree”, which was filled with Christmas ornaments and red stockings that I had made in school during the winter holiday season. During Decembers, I would sometimes feel left out as the only Muslim in my American school, so while all of my friends were decorating their evergreen trees with trinkets made in art class, my mother would save my ornaments for our Eid tree – which, if I recall correctly, was a mid-size potted plant from Ikea. My parents would always remind me how lucky I was, since I had two Eids, and my friends only had one Christmas.
On Eid day, my family and I would visit our local mosque for Eid prayers, then jump from house to house meeting family friends and eating food. I lived in different states, so the vibe was always different depending on the size of the Muslim community – in Texas and Missouri it was quite lively, whereas in the small suburb of Morgan Hill in California, our local mosque had fewer than 20 members, and meals would be of a potluck style, where everybody brought their own dish from home. I would find these visits quite boring, because there were no other kids who were the same age as me or my younger sister. Usually by the evening, I would be tired from the morning’s excitement, and stuffed with all of the food I had eaten throughout the day. I’d take off my Pakistani outfit and keep it carefully folded, to be worn again on my next trip to Karachi or the next family wedding. Then I would go back to school the next morning, sometimes pretending like I had been sick the previous day – or, if my teachers were more culturally informed, they would ask me to tell the class about Eid and how I had spent the day.
Today, Eid Al Adha holds more meaning and value. My mother tells me that when I was young, I never understood the tradition of sacrificing a goat – being a huge animal lover and finding goats and sheep too adorable to eat, I would eat pizza or pasta while the rest of the table feasted on the sacrificial meat. While I still prefer not to eat the meat today, I have a better grasp on the meanings behind why these traditions are performed, and of the importance of faith, gratitude and charity in Islam. Also, when I was a child, performing Haj was nowhere in my mind – it was something that I knew I would one day do, but far off in the future. Today, while it’s not quite at the forefront of my mind, the Haj pilgrimage is something that I’ve started to preliminarily plan with my husband – we’d like to go within the next two years, if possible.
hlodi@thenational.ae
