The most difficult aspect of fasting for Yusuf Abugideiri during the Islamic holy month of Ramadan is the bad breath, he joked.
But a severe case of halitosis is the least of his sacrifices for 30 days every year in order to further his faith as a Muslim.
This year, Ramadan started Sept. 1, and, for 25 days now, Abugideiri, and Muslims world-wide have celebrated the revelation of the Quran to the Prophet Mohammad .
As a senior finance major, Rhodes Scholarship applicant, Pamplin ambassador, and University Honors student, Abugideiri's days are usually long enough. Fasting is an extra challenge, he said. But 30 days without his Stride gum, that's close to torture.
"I'm a gum lover," Abugidieri said. "You'll never see me outside Ramadan without gum."
Its 9 a.m. Friday the 19th at a table in front of Au Bon Pain. He's wearing a yellow shirt from his summer internship at General Electric, khaki cargo shorts, and white Nike zoom sneakers. Headphones dangle around his neck, linked to a black iPod that had most recently played "Daydreamin'" by Muslim rapper Lupe Fiasco.
He'd been up until 2 a.m. the night before watching "Casablanca", missing breakfast and morning prayers by sleeping in. He prayed at 8 a.m., as soon as he woke up.
"God understands if I'm late," he said. "I'm not trying to be late. Is God mad? Probably not even worth His time. Besides, if He is all knowing and all seeing, He knew it was coming. Does it happen everyday? No. But I'd like to say I'm batting .900"
His dark eyes dart between students picking up coffees and pastries. He's not feeling hungry, yet. He last ate some pasta and chicken around 11 p.m. the night before. Other mornings, when the alarm is heard, he'll eat anything from a couple peanut butter and jelly sandwiches to a pint of Rocky Road Ben and Jerry's ice cream, to eggs and slices of turkey bacon -- Muslims do not eat pork. According to tradition Muslims cannot eat or drink from about 5:30 a.m. to about 7:30 p.m. during Ramadan. At 7:30 they partake in a dinner called "iftar," where they break the fast with the traditional first food, dates.
On long days when Abugidieri has class during iftar, he'll tell the instructor ahead of time he'll be eating during class. Usually it's a Hokie Club from West End, just with no bacon and a substitution of corned beef instead of ham.
The Islamic religion dictates Muslims don't drink alcohol, use drugs that alter the mind, or engage in pre-marital sex -- basically the weekend activities of your "average" college student, Abugidieri said.
He's been fasting since second grade -- a total of 15 months in his 21 years. This year he says has not been so bad. He's kept busy filling out paperwork for his Rhodes scholarship and managing his 17 credits of class work. Other years have not ended so favorably, such as freshman year when he lost 25 pounds, or during a football season in high school when he got severely dehydrated during a practice his legs cramped so badly he couldn't walk and had to be taken to the hospital.
Never the less, the month of Ramadan is his favorite time of the year.
"I honestly have an anxious feeling going in," Abugidieri says. "I'm excited to better myself, improve my relationship with God, doing good deeds, and contributing to society. Every year it gets better."
Ramadan focuses on the five pillars of Islam said Hazima Javaid, 21, an aerospace engineering student from Herndon. They are profession of Faith to Allah, the one God; prayer five times a day; giving to the poor; fasting during Ramadan; and eventually a pilgrimage to Mecca -- Islam's holiest city in Saudi Arabia.
"(Ramadan) is what defines me as Muslim," Javaid says. "It's a month of reflection for me. I revise my self, every thing I did in the past whole year, kind of like a new years resolution, except for a month. You revise what you did last year and what you can improve on for this year ....ways to become closer with God. It's just you and god, no food and little things, desires, in between."
One of the most important lessons of Ramadan is recognizing, remembering, and thanking God for the gifts and blessings he has brought through reading the Quran and prayer, Abugideiri says. Taqwa, he says, is the closeness a Muslim's relationship is with God. Abugidieri says it's an evolving process, and can be constantly tested.
"I am closer than before, but not as close as I want to be," Abugidieri says. "We're in a constant conversation, God and I. I do a lot of talking, he does a lot showing. It's not easy being Muslim. It's a duty. But it's hard for anybody to hold beliefs of any religion strongly."
The tests come often during Ramadan for Abugidieri.
Sometimes they are manifested through cravings: A hot grilled Colby cheese sandwich, apple juice and tomato soup. Or maybe, he might want a Five Guys burger, some filet mignon and chicken from Kabuki in Christiansburg. Or, even better, his mom's fried chicken, mashed potatoes, peas, corn, and cream pie.
Other difficult tests to his self-restraint come during hot afternoons in Lane stadium during home football game weekends.
While his roommates pre-gamed playing beer pong over the weekend of the Hokies' contest against Furmang, he breaded some chicken, made twice-baked potatoes and barbeque green beans for his roommates.
"To me, that's what Ramadan's truly about," Abugidieri says. "It's about cooking a meal for really, really special people, feeding someone very special."
While his friends guzzled down cold cokes and ate turkey legs, he stood roasting in the east stands without drinking a drop of water during the entire game against the Paladins. When the game ended, he drew an "ice cold" bath, sat in the water for 30 minutes, rinsing his mouth out with water, but not swallowing, until it was the proper time to break his fast. And he did. He completely drained four 32-ounce Gatorades while still lying in the tub.
But why not drink water if he's that close to dehydration? Abugidieri played defensive end at Thomas Jefferson High School in Fairfax. He hits the gym five days a week, and follows his work outs as closely as his prayer schedule. He's used to pushing his limits.
"You've come so far now, why throw it all away?" Abugidieri says, sliding back in his chair. "If you quit for a month you lose a year, like in workouts. It takes one instance to destroy all that effort. But I've never come out of a difficult time weaker. You just take it."
Abugidieri, like every Muslim, prays five times a day facing the "Qibla," or toward the direction of Mecca. He explains the system just as he has a million times before. Many students don't understand much about his religion, he admits, but he's happy to explain, and disabuse any stereotypes.
Stereotypes like all Muslims are Arabs. Like all Arabs are terrorists.
On Sept. 11, 2001, almost a month before Ramadan that year, Abugideiri was in gym class when he and his classmates watched flight 77 crash in to the Pentagon on television. Little did he know how greatly that event would change him, and the kid he had been standing next to at the time -- a friend whose father, Abugidieri would later learn, had been on the plane.
Being Muslim "really became a real part of my identity full time on that day," Abugidieri said. "That was the first time I saw my whole family really shaken up. We were talking about things I would never even have imagined. How would we escape our house if somebody firebombed (us). Which window we would jump out of. What to do when people wanted to start fights in streets, what to do if people were pulling my mom's scarf off her head. How we were going to respond if people cursed us out."
It's close to noon. Abugidieri counts four Quran's, or Islamic bibles, in his room at Berryfield apartments. Then there are books on Muhammad Ali, Freakonomics, work outs by Arnold Schwarzenegger and LL Cool J, corporate finance, and the Super Bowl. Two khaffiyahs, arab headdresses, are tacked to a cork board next to "Yusuf's body measurements," a picture of Lil' Wayne, and Barack Obama.
A printed out schedule of his classes hangs next to a print out of the daily prayer times. A prayer rug is folded neatly in his closet--his mother brought it back for him from Mecca after her Hajj, or pilgrimage.
Posters of Malcolm X and Muhammad Ali, both famous Muslims, spread across his walls. Other posters of the Superman symbol and a chimpanzee wearing headphones are on an opposite wall.
"Islam is going through its reformation right now," Abugidieri says. "It's a work in progress. Islam was founded 600 years after Christianity. Give us some time."
But Abugidieri can't help but accept there are setbacks, such as bombings and acts of terrorism carried out by Islamic extremists.
"It sucks, it sets us back," Abugidieri says. "It sets us normal Muslims back every time. It reintroduces negative imagery every time. There are 1.7 billion Muslims in the world. How many are terrorists? How much does a fingernail say about you as a whole? Islamic values hate war, and never promote war."
He explains there are people of every faith with differing interpretations of their respective religions, be they moderate, or extreme. For instance, Abugidieri's brother, Mustafa, a sophomore at the University of Maryland, never misses a single prayer time. He even took his Quran with him to beach week after high school. If a Hokie football game goes in to overtime during a scheduled prayer, he says his brother would find a quiet corner of the stadium to go pray. Abugidieri would wait until the game finished. He explains neither he, nor his brothers views, are wrong by any standard of Islam -- merely different.
Abdulshakur Abdullah, 27, president of the Muslim Student Association, says God expects nothing, but accepts everything.
"Muslims believe that God doesn't need anything from you," Abdullah says. "It's like when you're a child, your parent does need you to draw them a little picture that says thank you mom for making dinner. But when you do that it makes you feel better that you pleased your mom.
Abugidieri says the term "infidel," or unbeliever is a misnomer.
"I don't know what an infidel is. I've never seen one," Abugidieri says. "It's not uncomfortable to explain, it's impossible. They are not a person, but a concept. 'Unbelievers' don't necessarily harm God, but they miss out.
My personal philosophy is that if you believe or not, I couldn't care less. I know every man owes it to their fellow man to be a good person. Do people outside of Islam make it to heaven? Damn right. I hope so. Whichever version of heaven it is to them."
It's almost 1:15. Abugidieri drives up North Main to a local mosque in his silver Honda Civic. There's a gum wrapper in the cup holder, a work out suggestion ripped out of a Muscle Fitness magazine, and a small silver box the size of a dollar's stack of quarters: a miniature, but complete, Quran. There's a basketball court behind the mosque where he says every Friday night they will play pick up games together after prayers.
He removes his shoes once he's inside, and walks in to the "Masala," or prayer room. Before every prayer, Muslims must participate in "Wudhu", or ritual cleansing. They wash, in order, their hands, rinse out their mouth and nose, face, arms, hair, ears, and feet.
The Masala has tall narrow windows and broad horizontal striped carpeting, alternating green and blue -- colors the prophet Mohammed described as "peaceful," Abugidieri said.
He immediately begins movements called the "raka'ah" which is a process of standing, kneeling, pressing his forehead against the floor, and reciting memorized prayers.
The service begins promptly and Slimane Ajerid, a mathematics professor at Tech, gives the "khutba," or sermon. He talks of the patience that is required during Ramadan. That God gave Ramadan as "sometime for us to be happy." Because God's "reward is without limit." And at the end of the day, all Muslims have an excuse to be happy when they may finally break their fast and eat after a long and patient wait for sustenance, Ajerid says.
Come Tuesday, Abugidieri will have to exert his patience once more. He'll have 355 days until Ramadan returns.
"There's a lot of talk about the Christmas spirit, and it's the same thing with Ramadan," Abugidieri said. "You wish you were still in that month, wishing that it wasn't over just yet."