Douaa Handam is a young Palestinian refugee living in Lebanon, where her family has remained displaced for 67 years.
Have you ever wondered what Palestinians living in Lebanon have for iftar, or how they spend their evenings after it? Or maybe what they eat for suhoor?
Well, it differs from one Palestinian refugee to another. Especially between those who lives in camps, and those who don't.
We always say “Ramadan kareem.” It’s the most honest saying. Ramadan is generous for all Muslims. So you can see poor people in the camp welcoming Ramadan with pleasure.
They fast while they are work hard just to bring home a delicious Iftar for their families before the Athan. They stand on their rooftops, watching the sunset, and begin praying for God to accept their worship.
Some refugees break the fast in their houses, and some of them do it on the streets. Others do it in mosques since the mosque offers a free iftar.
To Palestinians, the Ramadan flavor and ambiance are mixed with the pain of alienation and displacement. We hope to return to the homes from which we were expelled by force in 1948. As Ramadan concludes this year, Palestinian refugees in Lebanon remain burdened with worries and troubles, facing high prices, lack of stability and inadequate security.
So how do Palestinian refugees residing in Lebanon receive Ramadan? What are the difficulties and troubles caused because of high prices, poverty and homelessness?
My grandpa always says: “Ramadan in Palestine has another taste; I remember how the whole village used to exchange congratulations of Ramadan, and how the people of the village exchange visits after they break the fast and go to pray the Tarawih. Those beautiful memories will not be erased from my imagination."
And he adds seriously, "the flavor of Ramadan is painful since I came here 67 years ago."
So this year, like every Ramadan, my grandma tries to cheer my grandpa up by making him some kaak el-Eid (butter cookies). She reminds him that God promised us that we will get our homeland back.
My family goes to break the fast every day at my grandpa’s house without excuses. And usually our food table contains a lot of Palestinian food, like makloubeh and msakaa. We stay up hearing the old memories of our grandfather and our parents. And when it is nearly 2 in the morning, we prepare ourselves for the delicious suhoor that grandma prepares.
I guess I am lucky since I am having a normal Ramadan like any normal citizen living here in Lebanon. But does it mean that I am happy? I am not eating olives from the tree behind our house in Yaffa or drinking orange juice from the nearby orchard after iftar.
No, I guess I am not that lucky. But I thank God because I hear the athan and break my fast with the such delicious food, unlike many refugees who have nothing but some old bread and milk to break the fast with.
But I am not worried because I know that every Palestinian Muslim in this world is praying every day that he can break the fast tomorrow on the soil of his homeland.