First Eid in America

It had been six long months since our arrival into this quaint little town on the outskirts of Virginia and spring was just around the corner. Just as we were shedding off our winter coats and the gloomy memories of a long winter, the spring arrived with its full bloom. What a spring it was! So enigmatic, so pure and so full of life. Just by looking outside the French window of our small apartment, we would forget all our worries and every pinch of struggle felt worthwhile.

It was also the blessed month of Ramadan and tomorrow was Eid. Back home in Pakistan, Eid was my favorite holiday. Our entire household would get struck with the chords of excitement in the days leading up to Eid, reaching its peak on Chaand Raat. After breaking the fast, we would all gather at the rooftop, hoping to catch a glimpse of the tiny silver crescent that played peekaboo with us behind the clouds before revealing itself. We would then head to Meena bazaar to shop for bangles and get intricate henna patterns on our hands. Eid day was all about family visits, collecting Eidi money and stuffing ourselves with scrumptious food.

The next morning, after offering the Eid prayer at our local mosque, we came back and helped ourselves to the sheer khurma that Ammi had prepared the night before. There were no visitors and no one to visit. An emptiness loomed inside me, reminding me that Eid will never be the same anymore. After contemplation, I came up with a plan to make our first Eid in America a little festive. I followed Ammi into the kitchen.

“Ammi, can we please throw a mother-daughter Eid party for all our neighbors tonight?” I requested sheepishly.

Ammi reflected for a moment and then agreed.

“That’s a great idea! Most of our neighbors don’t celebrate Eid, but they can learn, and you might make new friends along the way!”

I hugged Ammi and went to my desk. After shuffling through a pile of supplies, I finally settled on a roll of green card stock, silver glitter foam, silver rhinestone stickers, scissors, and a glue stick. I made ten green cards displaying a silver crescent moon on top and tiny rhinestone stars sparkling around it. Inside the cards, I wrote my invitation notes.

“You are invited to a Mother and Daughter Eid Party. If you are in the mood for some mouth-watering food and keen to learn about Eid, please come join us at Apartment #401 at 5 PM sharp!

Thank You,

Ayesha (Mother) & Farzeen (daughter)

PS.: Farzeen is twelve years old.

I asked Ammi to accompany me and together we went door to door, sliding the invitation cards inside each mail slot in the door.

After returning, Ammi busied herself with preparing fancy Eid treats and I pretended to be her sous chef. She whipped chutneys, seasoned chickpeas, baked and fried. Finally, the food was prepared, and the dining table was adorned. The sight and smell of the mouth-watering food engulfed me with Eid nostalgia.

It was close to five and Abbu and my brother Amin left to get our car fixed at the workshop. I dressed into a peach-colored shalwar kameez and the glittery glass bangles from last year’s Eid clanked around my wrists. The only thing missing was the henna on my hands.

Just then, the doorbell rang. We opened the door and greeted an assortment of female faces. Everyone scooted and settled inside our tiny apartment.

The pretty lady with the blonde hair was the first to introduce herself: “Hi, I am Mary, and this is my daughter Lisa. We celebrate Christmas but would love to learn about Eid!”

Next was the shy-looking Hispanic woman: “Hi, my name is Joanna, and this is my daughter Marianna. We are from Peru.”

Then the Black lady in a lovely dress introduced herself: “Hi, I am Whitney, and this is my daughter Christie. We celebrate Hanukkah but want to learn about Eid!”

Lastly, the lady wearing the beautiful head scarf pitched in: “Assalam-o-Alaikum and Eid Mubarak. I am Fariba, and these are my daughters Hania and Hira. We are from Morocco and just like you, we celebrate Eid.”

I was overjoyed to know that someone else in our building celebrated Eid! Soon after, we invited everyone to the table. All of them admired the food and ate until they could eat no more. Then Ammi started serving her special cardamom-infused milk tea. The tea cozy covering the teapot had a black velvet base with articulate silver mirror work done all over. The warmth of the tea relaxed the ambiance, and everyone started mingling. While Ammi and Fariba reminisced how they celebrated Eid back home, Mary, Joanna, and Whitney shared their Christmas and Hanukkah stories.

While we girls sat encircling the dining table admiring the bright henna on Hira and Hania’s palms. To my delight, their mom Fariba was a henna artist. The girls requested their mom to show us her henna skills. Fariba gladly opened her handbag and pulled out a cone-shaped piping bag.

“I never attend any Eid party without henna!” she said cheerfully.

Before long, everyone sat in a circle waiting for their turns. I made Lisa, Marianna and Christie go before me as they had never worn henna before. The earthy scent of henna permeated the air as Fareeba slowly drenched our palms with beautiful patterns. Our tiny apartment soon came alive with the sounds of giggles and laughter.

Just then, I remembered an old Islamic proverb that my grandma used to utter — A lot of different flowers make a bouquet. It dawned on me that all of us with our diverse backgrounds were the flowers that completed this beautiful bouquet called America. Best of all, I got an amazing henna design applied to my hands.

It was the best Eid ever; my very first Eid in America!