A Different Rhythm
A Different Rhythm
- Photo essay by
- Lara Ajami
Back home, Ramadan is its own life; it completely reshapes every street and city. But here in Vienna, Virginia, the world keeps its usual pace. I wondered: how does Ramadan find its place in a community moving to a different rhythm?
I found the answer inside a local community center. There, a quiet, ordinary American hall had turned into a lively Ramadan bazaar. It was striking to see how one space could shift its identity so completely in just a few short hours.
The hall was filled with small booths selling everything an expat carries in memory: fragrant spices, Arabic perfumes, and decorations for the month. Everything people needed to bring a touch of home into their lives was gathered in this one place.
In the corners of the room, traditional clothing hung on simple racks for visitors to browse. A scene you wouldn’t normally see on the streets of Virginia felt completely natural here, as if the hall had become a small bridge connecting us back to our roots.
It wasn’t just about shopping. Music filled the space, and a group of young men formed a "Dabke" circle that shifted the mood instantly. Shoppers paused, smiled, took photos, and joined in, as if everyone needed that shared moment of celebration.
Families came from different areas, some from far away. They weren’t there only for the goods, but for each other. They talked and stayed for hours, showing that Ramadan in the diaspora is more than a religious practice, it is an invitation to share space and time.
Children ran between the booths with painted faces, unaware of the complexities of living away from home. For them, this lively bazaar is what Ramadan looks like, the version they will grow up remembering as part of their life in America.
There, Ramadan surrounds you for an entire month, in street decorations and in the sound of everyday life. Here, we concentrate all of that feeling, all of those memories, into one room for one day.
There is quiet freedom here in being able to create something of our own. That is our reality. And sometimes, that small space is more than enough to feel that you truly belong.
Back home, Ramadan is its own life; it completely reshapes every street and city. But here in Vienna, Virginia, the world keeps its usual pace. I wondered: how does Ramadan find its place in a community moving to a different rhythm?
I found the answer inside a local community center. There, a quiet, ordinary American hall had turned into a lively Ramadan bazaar. It was striking to see how one space could shift its identity so completely in just a few short hours.
The hall was filled with small booths selling everything an expat carries in memory: fragrant spices, Arabic perfumes, and decorations for the month. Everything people needed to bring a touch of home into their lives was gathered in this one place.
In the corners of the room, traditional clothing hung on simple racks for visitors to browse. A scene you wouldn’t normally see on the streets of Virginia felt completely natural here, as if the hall had become a small bridge connecting us back to our roots.
It wasn’t just about shopping. Music filled the space, and a group of young men formed a "Dabke" circle that shifted the mood instantly. Shoppers paused, smiled, took photos, and joined in, as if everyone needed that shared moment of celebration.
Families came from different areas, some from far away. They weren’t there only for the goods, but for each other. They talked and stayed for hours, showing that Ramadan in the diaspora is more than a religious practice, it is an invitation to share space and time.
Children ran between the booths with painted faces, unaware of the complexities of living away from home. For them, this lively bazaar is what Ramadan looks like, the version they will grow up remembering as part of their life in America.
There, Ramadan surrounds you for an entire month, in street decorations and in the sound of everyday life. Here, we concentrate all of that feeling, all of those memories, into one room for one day.
There is quiet freedom here in being able to create something of our own. That is our reality. And sometimes, that small space is more than enough to feel that you truly belong.
