In Hedab Tarifi’s living room in Arcadia in the San Gabriel Valley, intricately embroidered fabrics in red and black cover the walls, floor, and even the cushions.
“You know, all these embroideries are traditional in Palestine,” she said, walking toward a framed picture on the sideboard.
“This is a very old map. It has the word Palestine on it,” Tarifi said. “You’ll probably see Palestinian signs and symbols all over my house.”
Tarifi was born in Gaza and grew up there until he was four years old, when his family moved to Kuwait. She moved to the Los Angeles area over 30 years ago.
The Israel-Hamas war has had a huge impact on her since it began. According to health authorities in the Gaza Strip, the Oct. 7 Hamas attack on Israel killed more than 1,200 people and killed more than 31,000 Gazans.
Muslims around the world are preparing for the holy month of Ramadan. It is a time of fasting, feasting, and charity, aimed at drawing them closer to God. However, due to the war between Israel and Hamas, many Muslims in the United States feel unable to truly celebrate.
A map that includes Gaza and describes the area as Palestine sits in Hedab Tarifi’s living room.
The suffering is changing Tarifi’s usually happy mood, especially in the run-up to Ramadan.
“This is unlike any other Ramadan I have experienced,” she says, “and I have experienced tough Ramadans before, including the Iraqi invasion of Kuwait and the subsequent Gulf This includes those during the war.”
Tarifi says fasting during Ramadan has deep meaning for her.
“God teaches us that fasting is for His own good, so we usually do it knowing that God accepts it and that He will reward us. , we fast to draw closer to God,” she says.
But this year, Tarifi is mindful of how hunger during daytime fasting differs from hunger in Gaza, where food is hard to come by.
“It was heartbreaking to see parents fasting to feed their children,” she says.
Muslim communities change in response to conflict
The American Muslim community is diverse, with origins spanning all over the world from Indonesia to Pakistan to Saudi Arabia. These communities are involved in the Israel-Hamas war in a variety of ways.
In Southern California, the Pakistan-American Chamber of Commerce is planning the second annual Grand L.A. Interfaith Iftar, where people of many faiths come together to mark and celebrate breaking the fast (known as an iftar meal).
Event organizer Waqar Khan said he wanted to stay away from politics and said he had invited more than 400 people from a variety of religious backgrounds to the March 17 dinner in a Los Angeles suburb. Ta. But he plans to acknowledge the war during the celebration.
“We’re going to hold a minute’s silence for those who died in combat, both for Israelis and Palestinians,” he says.
Khan wants to avoid speeches about the politics of the conflict, fearing it could turn into a rally and the atmosphere could shift from joy to hostility.
“The main purpose of this interfaith iftar is to create and send a message that the Muslim community is at peace,” he says. “We want peace with all nations.”
But Khan knows that the widespread hunger and high death toll in Gaza will be concerning to many attendees.
This year, it’s hard to stick to the pillars of philanthropy.
In addition to fasting, Muslims also do charity work during Ramadan, said Hassam Ailush, president of the Council on American-Islamic Relations in California.
“One of the disciplines God intended in Islam during the month of Ramadan is to teach us empathy for those less fortunate than ourselves,” he says.
Ailush is saddened by how the war is affecting Muslims’ ability to practice this pillar of their faith. In the past, Muslims in the United States may have sent money or care packages to relatives and friends in the Gaza Strip, but the war has changed the situation.
“No matter how much we collect, even millions or hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of food and drink, it is almost impossible to get it to Gaza.
Before the war, hundreds of supply trucks entered the area every day. Currently, Israel allows only a portion of UN aid convoys to be accepted. Some 2 million people in Gaza suffer from widespread malnutrition, and international observers have warned that starvation is imminent.
In addition to prayer, fasting and charity work, Rania Svaita of Lake Forest, California, plans to continue her public work to support her family and friends in Gaza. She wears a black sweatshirt with the phrase “Gaza: Soul of My Soul” printed in white.
“We went to the San Francisco march to participate in the West Coast special of the National March for Palestine,” she said, hand-painted placards she had made for a rally in Northern California a few weeks earlier. I picked it up.
“My sign says, from Shujaiyah, where my family is from in central Gaza, to San Francisco, we support Palestine.”
Rania Sbaita’s cultural pride comes from her father, Marwan Sbaita, she says. Usually during the holy month, he would call relatives in central Gaza to discuss what they were eating that night to celebrate.
Since the war began, contact with them has been sporadic, sometimes only through short text messages in the middle of the night. Marwan has not been able to contact his uncle, aunt and cousins for weeks. He knows that the hunger people experience during this Ramadan is fundamentally different from the hunger they experience during daytime fasting.
“It’s very shocking because they don’t eat,” he says. “When it comes time to eat, to break the fast, I eat with great pain, sadness, suffering, suffering, and guilt.”
He says he can’t help anymore out of guilt. And there’s also the sadness that his loved ones won’t be able to experience the joy of Ramadan this year.
“We are saddened,” Marwan said. “We are overwhelmed with a heavy feeling.”
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