There are some people out there who haven’t had any experience of poverty and really don’t understand in the slightest what it looks like, or how it might feel. Even in countries where they live right alongside poor people, they build higher walls, buy cars with tinted windows and complain about how dangerous the city has become.
Today was a bit of a challenge. I was fine in that I was my normal pretty upbeat self, but physically my body seemed to be protesting slightly. Years of living and travelling abroad (particularly Ghana, Colombia and Pakistan) have really worked their magic on my body, and it served as a slight reminder to take it easy. But it was manageable; nothing I couldn’t handle.
And anyway, Ramadan is not supposed to be easy. It’s supposed to be hard. It’s supposed to be a reminder of how difficult other people’s lives can be, of how it feels to be poor. This is one of the things that attracted me to finding out more about Ramadan, because the concept of fasting for a month to empathise with the poor seems like an honourable one. Yet at the same time, it made me feel conflicted because it is such a poor…
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