How To Be A Ramadan Moonsighter (Not A Ramadan Moonfighter)

We are waiting for Ramadan to begin. Sprawled across the living living carpet after Maghrib namaz, my brother and I are not very old but not very young either. We are definitely children and we are waiting for Ramadan to begin.

It’s supposed to be today or tomorrow but there’s only one way to confirm it: the Jami Mosque answering machine. We dial it methodically every thirty minutes until we hear the message we’ve been waiting for,  As Salaamu Alaikum and Ramadan Kareem! The moon has been sighted… 

We don’t wait to listen to where the moon has been seen nor which people have confirmed it. The message on the machine feels more real than the elusive new moon anyway, it’s greeting for Ramadan enough for us to charge around the house with joy and excitement. 

The Ramadans of my childhood, full as they were of wonder and happiness, were not experiences I connected deeply to the natural world. 

The beginning and the end of the month, marking the first fast and Eid day, were taken from the aforementioned answering machine. Suhoor was dictated by the clock in the kitchen and iftar by tuning into the Reflections On Islam radio programme, where we listened out for guest appearances by Aunty Jameelah while waiting for the dua of the day and the adhan.

I do remember, as a teen, briefly questioning why someone or other was always fighting about the moon – how it was ‘seen’ and who could be trusted. Some years, this would lead my ummah-loving, unity-supporting, extrovert self into the frustrating situation of starting Ramadan and celebrating Eid on different days from my friends. A suburban-Muslim kid problem if there ever was one.

As life moved on and Ramadan after blessed Ramadan arrived and departed, my own experiences conspired to foster a gentle growth in my relationship with the world around me. By the time motherhood embraced me, I was embracing the idea of consciously arranging my life within the rhythms of the year and the phases of the moon.

I made an intention that I would pass on this delight, awe and friendship with the natural world to my children. To show them not only the beauty of this phenomenal place but to let them feel how their lives, faith and very beings were intertwined with it.

And so, when Ramadan rolled around again, I did what many a Muslim mama does, I made moons. So many moons. Full moons, crescent moons, quarter and gibbous moons. We hung moons from sticks. Cut them out of cookie dough. Arranged moon ornaments and decorated moon wreaths… we even took the time to make moon piñatas.

But then one year, over discussions of Ramadan plans, a friend related that her neighbour had paid an unexpected visit and, upon seeing their plethora of lunar themed decorations, exclaimed in all sincerity “Oh, so Muslims pray to the moon!”

As we contemplated this unintentionally profane assertion in awkward silence, I glanced at a particularly large metal crescent on the other side of the room. It was covered in twinkly lights and spontaneously affixed in the direction of prayer. Maybe I needed to rethink some things.

The answer lay, as it almost always does, within revelation itself. I really ought to start there more often. 

“It is He who made the sun a shining radiance and the moon a light, determining phases for it so that you might know the number of years and how to calculate time. God did not create all these without a true purpose; He explains His signs to those who understand.” – Qur’an 10:5

The moon was created for us. As a Divine sign, with which to mark Divine time. And I needed to be able to connect that truth in a real way for our family, otherwise we’d be in danger of elevating a symbol just for the gorgeous sake of it. 

So I announced to my family that this year we would go out to look for the Ramadan moon and in preparation we’d practice on the new moon of Sha’ban!  We all felt a bit giddy with the prospect of being ‘moonsighters’ until we realised that we had absolutely no idea how to do it. After all, it must be quite precise and sophisticated when you think of all the competing Hilaal Committees in the world. 

A very specific Internet search of “how to view the new Muslim moon” brought me to a talk by the New Crescent Society in collaboration with the Royal Observatory in Greenwich. Why I had to qualify the new moon as Muslim, I still don’t know. 

The good news was that the New Crescent Society was offering a free online course on how to sight the new moon, the bad news was that the weather forecast showed dense clouds on the night we were supposed to look  for our ‘practice’ Sha’ban sliver. We would have to wait for Ramadan and pray for clear skies. 

In the meantime we asked a lot of questions and took a lot of notes and it turns out, it’s not so difficult to see the new moon if someone just carefully explains to you which direction to look in, what time and where.

I’m sharing with you now the basics of what we learnt in the hope that, in a few days time, you too will gather your crew and head out to find the new moon of our splendid Ramadan – prepared with a copy of the dua to recite upon seeing it and maybe a thermos of tea and some dates to sweeten the exact moment you witness that slim crescent fulfilling it’s true purpose.

Personally, whether we see the new moon or not, our local mosque will announce it online following astrological charts, no human eyes needed. We will join them in starting on whatever day they say because we only have the one main mosque around here and common sense compels me to stick together. Whenever you begin, may your Ramadan be blessed and bountiful.

 

And for more  thoughts on the moon, reflections on the Islamic calendar and yes, crescent-shaped decorations, look no further than our previous posts below:

On Promising My Children The Moon

Why The Lunar Calendar Matters

A Simple Ramadan Craft You’ll Want To Keep Up All Year

 

Original Illustration: Courtesy of Zarina Teli