The holy month has always held a special place in my heart—a time of deep reflection, togetherness, and spiritual renewal. Back in Egypt, its arrival felt like the beginning of a month-long celebration—lanterns glowing in the streets, the call to prayer echoing through the air, and tables brimming with traditional dishes prepared with love. Women donned elegant abayas and vibrant hijabs, moving through the bustling markets filled with the scent of freshly baked bread and sweet dates. But when I moved to Toronto for university, I found myself experiencing this sacred time in an entirely new way. No longer surrounded by the comforts of home, I had to navigate fasting, prayers, and traditions in a foreign setting, all while juggling academic responsibilities.
My first experience observing Ramadan in Canada was a learning journey. The absence of family gatherings left a noticeable void, and with a tight schedule filled with classes and assignments, I found myself struggling to maintain the same sense of connection to the holy month. Cooking, something I had never paid much attention to back home, suddenly became a necessity. At first, I relied on quick fixes—ordering takeout or grabbing whatever was convenient. But soon, I realized that part of what made this time special was the effort and intention behind preparing a meal. So, I started experimenting with simple recipes, trying to recreate the flavors of home. Some attempts were successful, while others reminded me just how much I missed my mother’s cooking.
As the days passed, I sought ways to make the experience more fulfilling. I reached out to fellow Muslim students and joined gatherings at the local mosque, where I found a sense of belonging that eased my homesickness. We shared Iftar meals, exchanged stories about our different traditions, and prayed together, creating a new kind of community that helped bridge the gap between home and my new life. Women in Toronto’s Muslim community wore an array of styles—some in chic hijabs, others in modern salwar kameez, and a few in flowing jilbabs, reflecting the city’s diverse cultural influences.
Balancing fasting with university life was another challenge. The long hours of lectures and studying often left me drained, but I quickly learned the importance of a well-planned Suhoor. Eating something nourishing before dawn—dates, oatmeal, yogurt, and a strong cup of tea—became a key part of my routine. The caffeine helped me stay alert, and light stretching or a brief moment of Quran recitation in the early hours helped set a positive tone for the day.
One of the biggest hurdles was finding spaces for prayer. Unlike back home, where every place seemed to accommodate the rhythms of the month, I had to be creative in carving out moments of worship. I carried a prayer mat in my backpack, sometimes praying in quiet corners of the library or in an empty classroom. It was daunting at first, but over time, I came to see these moments as a quiet assertion of my faith—a reminder that I could hold onto my traditions no matter where I was.
Despite the challenges, the experience also brought unexpected joys. The diversity of Toronto meant that I was exposed to different ways of observing Ramadan. I got to taste Pakistani samosas, Turkish pide, and Indonesian sweets at community potlucks. Conversations with friends from different backgrounds deepened my appreciation of how beautifully Islam connects people across cultures. I admired the variety of traditional clothing that reflected this diversity—intricately embroidered abayas from the Middle East, pastel-colored hijabs from Malaysia, and elegant burqas from South Asia, each telling a story of faith and heritage.
Then came Eid, a bittersweet moment. I missed the early morning prayers with my family, the scent of freshly baked Kahk (Egyptian Eid cookies), and the laughter of loved ones filling the house. But instead of dwelling on what was missing, I embraced what was present. I dressed in my finest attire—an embroidered salwar kameez, paired with a delicately draped dupatta—video-called my family to share in the celebrations, and spent the day with friends who, like me, were far from home but determined to make the best of the occasion.
This experience taught me that the spiritual journey is not bound by location; it is a state of mind and heart. It is about finding gratitude in small moments, creating new traditions, and strengthening one’s faith despite unfamiliar surroundings. Though my observance in Toronto looked different from the one I had always known, it was no less meaningful. It reminded me that no matter where I am in the world, the essence of faith—reflection, community, and devotion—will always be with me.
Now, as the next Ramadan approaches, I feel more prepared and eager to embrace the journey once again. I have learned that while change can be daunting, it also opens doors to growth and new experiences. And though I may be miles away from home, I carry its spirit within me, making every moment, no matter where I am, a beautiful and cherished time of the year.