Tradition

We celebrated Eid in Cape Town four days ago. For you who may not know what Eid is, it is an Islamic religious holiday celebrated twice in the lunar year - the first is celebrated the day after the fasting month is completed (the one we've just celebrated), and the second one is celebrated on the tenth day of the twelfth lunar month, which corresponds with the third day of pilgrimage.
It can be likened to Christmas or Hanukkah - a day for families and friends to get together - but what makes Eid unique is that each one has a specific significance attached to it: the first one is the Eid of charity, and the second the Eid of sacrifice.

Muslims around the globe celebrate this day in many different ways, and along with the specific religious duties and customs that have to be performed, every family has their own unique customs and traditions that surround it. In my family, my mother buys gifts for all of her grandchildren, makes her own corned beef and home-made baked bread (which I have taken over, since she sustained a shoulder injury), makes meat pies and cooks a pot of biryani; My eldest sister-in-law makes her version of fried chicken (which is better than KFC, in my opinion); one of my older sisters makes a roast leg of lamb (or two - we're a big family) with all the trimmings; my baby sis and I bake biscuits and cakes; and the rest of my siblings will see to puddings and desserts. New clothes are bought and homes get a spring cleaning (regardless of the season).

Our home is the central meeting place for all my siblings and their children, and for a few extended family members, and for the last thirty four years, Eid lunch has always been under my mother's roof.

When I was younger (and lazier) I complained a lot - about the amount of people in our home on that day, of all the preparation that we had to do, of nieces, nephews and small cousins invading my personal space, operation clean-up afterward. I argued a lot with my mother and older sister because I didn't understand why things had to be done a certain way and when I became older and 'wiser', I became even more impatient with some of the customs that I felt were unnecessary and extravagant.

This year, due to miscommunication and stubbornness, we were almost forced to break with our thirty year tradition...and it felt like there was a death in the family. My mother was completely distraught at the mere possibility of abandoning the tradition of having all of her children congregate under her roof for Eid.  I kept my opinions to myself and waited to hear what the elders had decided, but overheard my mother say to one of my sisters that she wants us to carry these traditions on if she is no longer with us one day, and that she hopes that we will remember her and continue to pray for her.
We stuck to our usual plan, but because of the conflict of the preceding few days, the day was dampened somewhat.

It was the first time I actually stopped to think about what makes people cling for dear life to their traditions. I can only really answer for myself, and from what I witnessed and felt last week, it boils down to three things: immortality, human connection and the happiness one feels at the remembrance of fond memories.

I have lost some people in my life, but I remember them through the little traditions they were a part of throughout my life. My late uncle and aunt had supper at our house at least once a week, and I can still hear her laugh and I still clean the lids of the sauce bottles like he used to do. Whenever I hear the song, "Pump up the jam" it makes me think of my late brother, and his ridiculous dance moves. Tin Roof ice-cream reminds me of my father's late wife, because she always made sure there was a tub in the freezer whenever I came to visit her.

These people may be gone, but they are very much alive in my heart.

We do not live forever, but every person wants to be remembered after they leave this world, and I suppose traditions are the one thing which helps us to leave our mark in this life.