My First Idul Fitri

Sunday, July 27 marked the last day of fasting for Ramadan. Like clockwork, I waited with my family in the kitchen until it was exactly 5:35pm. My ibu mumbled a prayer, we all took a sip of guava juice, and exhaled saying “Alhamdulillah.” After dinner we headed to the mosque for a 45-minute prayer session.

When we returned home, my host sister’s friends showed up at our front door. They asked me to accompany them to get bakso (a traditional Indonesian dish that literally translates into “meatball”). I tried to make conversation with my new teenage friends over our second dinner, but I couldn’t hear them over the loudspeakers coming from every mosque in the village.

“What time does call to prayer stop tonight?” I shouted.

“7am,” replied my host sister as she chuckled at my stupidity.

SEVEN AM!? Call to prayer is going on ALL NIGHT? Oh, Allah. When I got home, I took a Benedryl and called It a night.

The next morning was the start of Idul Fitri, a weeklong holiday. My ibu banged on my door at 5am shouting, “Kruti, anda harus mandi!!!!” (Kruti, go take a shower!). Those who know me know that I am not a morning person. I opened my door with my eyes half shut and my hair a mess. I looked at my ibu with the “are you serious right now?” look. She just smiled. It was Idul Fitri. There was no time to sooth grumpy Kruti.

Once again, we headed to the mosque. Normally, I am able to find a comfortable spot to pray inside the mosque. Today was not one of those days. The mosque was flooded with people. Many had to set their prayer rugs outside. This prayer session was different from the ones I have been to with my family. I thought prayer sessions normally involved a lot of kneel and standing up. On Idul Fitri, we mostly sat and listened to the loudspeaker.

Afterwards, my family started our Idul Fitri celebrations. During this holiday, people go around to all the houses in the neighborhood and say “sorry” to one another. After they shake hands, they are offered a schmorgesborg of snacks, drinks, and sweets. Before we left our house, my host family huddled together. We shook each other’s hands and whispered, “Mohon maaf” (I am sorry). Later, I followed my host sister around the entire mountain going to people’s houses, apologizing, and eating their food.

 I noticed that some people would simply mumble the words and some people would whisper a small speech into the ear of the apology recipient. I’m assuming those who lingered a bit longer were actually apologizing for some tiff that happened previously.

I really enjoyed this holiday for a few reasons. First, it was amazing to celebrate an Islamic holiday. The month of Ramadan was fun, but I was having trouble sleeping through the extended call to prayers, which lasted until 10:30pm. It was also fun to interact with people again. During Ramadan, I kept a low profile because I knew everyone was sleepy from fasting. I enjoyed talking with people; it was incredibly refreshing.

Second, I like the idea of going around saying, “I’m sorry” to your neighbors, friends, and family once a year. For me, saying the words “I’m sorry” comes as easily as saying “hello” or “what’s up.”  Some people have told me that this is a weakness in my character. I’m usually the first to back down in a fight. I’m usually the first to apologize. In fact, I sometimes go out of my way to apologize for something that has happened so long ago. I’ve had this trait for as long as I can remember, and quite frankly I love it. I don’t see it as weakness. Rather, I see it as honesty. I know I have hurt someone either intentionally or unintentionally. I can empathize with the pain I have caused them and for that I can say with utmost confidence, “I’m sorry.” You'd be surprised how many people are quick to forgive when you are the one to admit your faults. Friendships form so easily after that. 

Lastly, I loved this holiday because I ate all day long. What more could you ask for?

As Idul Fitri comes to an end I want to say, “Mohon maaf.” I am very sorry if I have caused you any pain.