Back when we lived in Nigeria, the rules were simple and the daylight hours of the fasting month remained (almost) constant

It’s that time of year again. Thanks to the vagaries of a lunar calendar, Ramadan 2018 is upon us a little earlier.

When I lived in Nigeria, the rules were simple and the daylight hours of the fasting month remained (almost) constant. Day 1 was not that dissimilar to Day 15 or even Day 26, year in, year out; our position just north of the equator served to bring a reliable sameness to the holy month. Day followed night in a strict schedule which is, as a teen, exactly what you crave after a day of fasting.

Sitting down in my New York apartment several Ramadans later, I miss that quiet constancy. Further away from the equator as we are, the day’s length changes with the seasons. The traditional adage rings (partly) true: April brought showers, but this May brings a quest for self-control and bonus spiritual growth alongside the flowers.

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When the day begins this much earlier, the hours stretch out in front of you, begging to be filled. Fasting is a good cure for procrastination, it turns out, because you are constantly in credit when it comes to time: you might as well go ahead and send that invoice, or winnow your messages until you get to Inbox Zero. Mostly, though, I will be attempting a form of time travel: seeking to recreate Ramadans past with the most reliable time machine there is – cooking. A friend has shared the location of an African market, and I’m going in search of essentials: garri, and of course, some of the very West African seasoning cubes my mother crumbles into her stews. Even more than the comfort of an unchanging Ramadan, it’s my mother’s cooking I miss most of all.