Before every Ramadan, the jokers always ask: ‘Will you fast, or just like every year?’ A question that has long grown tiresome, as have the sarcastic responses it provokes. Strangely enough, Ramadan—the month of light and the Quran—has become an excuse for a host of negative habits and attitudes, now so deeply ingrained that they are casually justified with the phrase: ‘Never mind, it’s Ramadan.’
Even the Egyptian stock exchange has not escaped this intellectual stagnation. A report on Mubasher, a financial news website, welcomed the holy month with the headline: ‘Experts expect relative calm in the Egyptian stock market during Ramadan.’ There was no outrage in the comments section—just some debate over the technical details of the forecast.
If a group of people attempts to arrange a meeting or finalise some work, there is only one answer they are likely to hear: ‘Let’s wait until after Ramadan.’ And should anyone (God forbid) be forced to visit a government office to obtain a document or chase down an official’s signature, they will face one of two possibilities: either the employee is absent, or they are sitting there, eyes bloodshot and scowling, ready to say, ‘Come back tomorrow’—or, more likely, ‘Let’s wait until after Ramadan.’
If you are a normal human being who wakes up early to go to work during Ramadan, you might need to offer a sincere prayer during the night’s Taraweeh prayers, asking God to ensure that the person you need will actually show up to their job the next day. It is as if earning a living during Ramadan has become a violation of the fast itself. Whether in the public sector, private companies, or even individual businesses, everyone has their own ‘Ramadan mode’. This is what the month means to them.
It is painfully clear how work slows down and productivity drops during Ramadan, adding yet another burden to Egypt’s already overwhelming economic struggles. But this absurd culture—now deeply embedded in people’s behaviour and socially accepted—is actively reinforced by the media. Television dramas are saved for the late-night hours, and the later the show, the more sensational and gripping it becomes. The same goes for talk shows, game shows, and an endless stream of mindless entertainment that only drags society further into ignorance and decline. And then there are the Ramadan tents, which have nothing to do with the holy month except their timing—extravagant suhoor feasts served alongside ‘authentic’ oriental music.
Most people wake up just before iftar, even if they did attempt to go to work—wandering in like the living dead after their ‘nightly exertions’. They experience nothing of the fast except hunger and thirst. And in this, one of the most profound purposes of fasting is lost: for the privileged to feel what their less fortunate brothers and sisters endure. The poor do not have the luxury of waking up late or skipping work just because they are hungry. They are forced to work even harder, striving to put food on the table for their families. Their hunger is not followed by lavish Ramadan gatherings. Their fast is not cushioned by endless hours of sleep. Their reality is stark and relentless. And so, both spiritually and economically, Ramadan’s true meaning is lost. Perhaps it is time to replace that tired old question with an even more absurd one: ‘Will you actually work this year, or just like every year?’
This article is originally published by AlBorsa in Arabic and later AI-translated by South Push.