An Atheist's First Iftar

At her first iftar, CANDICE CHUNG experiences the fasting, feasting and warm sense of hospitality that go hand-in-hand with Ramadan.

It’s the start of Ramadan, Islam’s holiest month, and I’m trying not to think about my empty stomach as the train speeds south. For 30 consecutive days, Muslims around the world will fast from sunrise to sundown, eating only before dawn or after dark. I’ve rarely had cause to deny myself when it comes to food, and as an atheist, certainly never on religious grounds. I come from a family where there’s no such thing as a missed meal. Growing up, my parents approached eating with the same determination as long-distance runners — never mind how long it takes to finish, it’s the turning up that counts.

The reason I’m travelling on an empty stomach is that I’ve been invited to my first iftar — the nightly feast during Ramadan where Muslim families gather to break the day’s fast. The invitation itself made no mention of meal-skipping; I decided to turn up hungry, in truth, after a friend raised a valid question: “Don’t you want to eat as much as everyone who fasted?”

Tuba and Ahmet Ozturk have been hosting iftars for non-Muslims in their house in south-western Sydney for the past three years. Born in Turkey, they met while working in Amity College, where Tuba still teaches. Ahmet now works as a general secretary for an educational consultancy and volunteers for Affinity Intercultural Foundation — a not-forprofit that fosters ties between Muslim Australians and the wider community. 

Each year, Affinity runs Ramadan events that range from formal dinners at the Parliament of New South Wales, to pop-up iftars that welcome asylum seekers and refugees. The most intimate experiences are the home iftars, where strangers of different faiths and cultural backgrounds are invited to break bread with Muslim families across Sydney.