I was excited for this because I heard the foreigners were going to bring special dishes for the occasion. When I say foreigners, I mean people from the Middle East and Asia, which are most of the people who make up the Muslim community in Las Cruces. I also learned that the Eid feast usually consists of pastries and sweet treats, so I knew I had to make a special something .
I made my special banana bread the night before. I would say the secret is to let the bread sit in the cooling oven for at least an hour after the timer goes off and you turn the oven off. Also, to make it less fattening, I substitute apple sauce for butter.
Once I got to the mosque, or masjid, I was met with a house full of people dressed in their holiday best. I was dressed in nice jeans, a nice sparkly shirt and a cardigan. I immediately felt out of place because my head was not wrapped in a hajib and I was the only one wearing jeans.
It was not like this when I visited the week before, but since that day was a special day, everyone was dressed in their traditional clothes from their different cultures. I saw men wearing long white robes and I saw women wearing beautiful dresses and their hands painted with henna. This is how I explained it to my mom, "Just like when we have a special holiday or occasion on the reservation, sometimes we wear our traditional Navajo outfits and jewelry. It was like that here. Since it was a special holiday, they wore their traditional outfits." And the kids were wearing these things too. They were so cute, I almost cried. And this is coming from a person who usually feels uneasy around children and tries to stay away from them.
I was on the women's side of the mosque and it was full of chatter, laughing and lots of hugs and kisses. Overhead, through the intercom, a man read a prayer and said some stuff in Arabic, but the room was still full of chatter and noise. When the prayer was done, a women I knew shook my hand and gave me a hug. Everyone did the same and that meant it was time to eat.
I somehow ended up at the front of the line and had first pick of all the wonderful food that was on the tables. The woman I knew, she had black eyebrows, painted hands and black eyeliner, she led me through the line of food and with a heavy accent told me what everything was. She even pointed at a bag of tortillas and told me they were tortillas. She was a sweet woman. I wish I knew her name and said more, but there was a language barrier there.
Hummus, falafels, baklava, fried rice, sandwich triangles filled with a savory mixture of potatoes and herbs, hard boiled eggs and mini Snickers every where. Every kind of morning pastry was laid on the table including my banana bread. There were a few things I had never seen before so I scooped them up and tried them. I tried some fluffy, green egg casserol thing that was very good. I tried scrambled eggs with some kind of reddish sauce in it. I had a mushroom stir fry that, when combined with the eggs, was bordering on magical. I had a flat fried bread and some chili beans.
I ate my plate of goodies next to another woman I knew from the article I wrote. We talked about the story and how the last time she was interviewed by a reporter, the story brought about some very nasty comments about her being Muslim and Islam. She said she was a little afraid to talk to me for my story, but she happened to be in the right place at the right time and she turned out to be a great addition to the article. I also told her that I was surprised that there weren't as many negative and hateful comments posted to my story. That's a good thing really.
I also told her the reason why I wanted to do such a story. It's because the only time I read the words "Islam" and "Muslim" in the newspaper is when it's a negative story about bombs and casualties. Many Americans don't know anything about Islam and about who Muslims really are. I see that the same way I see Native Americans in the news. Native issues are under reported and the stories that are written about us are almost always negative. So I know what that feels like to pick up the paper and read an article that's only about the negative aspects of your community. I know that that's not the whole story and there's so much more to us that's never given any ink. And the Muslim community is much bigger than the Native community in the United States, and people still don't understand anything about them. Just like they don't understand anything about Natives. So I wanted to write this story because Natives and Muslims are the same.
All this at 8:30 in the morning. Around 9, the children were getting antsy and excited. When someone called for the children to meet in the main room on the men's side, they ran, and they were met with balloons and candy. The mothers and women looked on through a one-way mirror and cheered as their sons and daughters received their gift. A door joining the main room and the women's room swung open and closed as excited little ones carried large and small gifts back to their mothers. "Mom! Look what I got!"
Eid was a great experience. When I have the chance to go out in to a different community and learn about people, their passions, their hobbies and their way of life, I feel good inside. In that respect, I'm very lucky that I'm a features reporter.
I was on the women's side of the mosque and it was full of chatter, laughing and lots of hugs and kisses. Overhead, through the intercom, a man read a prayer and said some stuff in Arabic, but the room was still full of chatter and noise. When the prayer was done, a women I knew shook my hand and gave me a hug. Everyone did the same and that meant it was time to eat.
I somehow ended up at the front of the line and had first pick of all the wonderful food that was on the tables. The woman I knew, she had black eyebrows, painted hands and black eyeliner, she led me through the line of food and with a heavy accent told me what everything was. She even pointed at a bag of tortillas and told me they were tortillas. She was a sweet woman. I wish I knew her name and said more, but there was a language barrier there.
Hummus, falafels, baklava, fried rice, sandwich triangles filled with a savory mixture of potatoes and herbs, hard boiled eggs and mini Snickers every where. Every kind of morning pastry was laid on the table including my banana bread. There were a few things I had never seen before so I scooped them up and tried them. I tried some fluffy, green egg casserol thing that was very good. I tried scrambled eggs with some kind of reddish sauce in it. I had a mushroom stir fry that, when combined with the eggs, was bordering on magical. I had a flat fried bread and some chili beans.
I ate my plate of goodies next to another woman I knew from the article I wrote. We talked about the story and how the last time she was interviewed by a reporter, the story brought about some very nasty comments about her being Muslim and Islam. She said she was a little afraid to talk to me for my story, but she happened to be in the right place at the right time and she turned out to be a great addition to the article. I also told her that I was surprised that there weren't as many negative and hateful comments posted to my story. That's a good thing really.
I also told her the reason why I wanted to do such a story. It's because the only time I read the words "Islam" and "Muslim" in the newspaper is when it's a negative story about bombs and casualties. Many Americans don't know anything about Islam and about who Muslims really are. I see that the same way I see Native Americans in the news. Native issues are under reported and the stories that are written about us are almost always negative. So I know what that feels like to pick up the paper and read an article that's only about the negative aspects of your community. I know that that's not the whole story and there's so much more to us that's never given any ink. And the Muslim community is much bigger than the Native community in the United States, and people still don't understand anything about them. Just like they don't understand anything about Natives. So I wanted to write this story because Natives and Muslims are the same.
All this at 8:30 in the morning. Around 9, the children were getting antsy and excited. When someone called for the children to meet in the main room on the men's side, they ran, and they were met with balloons and candy. The mothers and women looked on through a one-way mirror and cheered as their sons and daughters received their gift. A door joining the main room and the women's room swung open and closed as excited little ones carried large and small gifts back to their mothers. "Mom! Look what I got!"
Children getting their gifts. There's also a reflection of two women talking in the middle of the picture.
Eid was a great experience. When I have the chance to go out in to a different community and learn about people, their passions, their hobbies and their way of life, I feel good inside. In that respect, I'm very lucky that I'm a features reporter.
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