For the Syrian refugee community in Wollongong, 2025’s Ramadan celebrations are extra special. The dictator Bashar Al-Assad is gone, fled to Russia in December, and there are hopes of peace after 15 years of civil war.
Wafaa Izzeddin longs to return and show her children where she was raised.
“We suffered a lot,” she says. “Now we need freedom for everyone – Syria for every Syrian, regardless of the religion, skin colour, language or ethnic group.”
Her homeland is on her mind during the annual Islamic holy month of prayer, contemplation and fasting, which began on Saturday, March 1.
For Wafaa, Ramadan is time to recharge her soul.
“Like we have food to charge our body,” she says, “when we think about our soul, we need to do something mentally to be more strong.
“Ramadan means to me – it's time to recharge our soul and to think about discipline more in our life. Ramadan means to me – think about others, and express your feelings, your love.”
“It is a celebration because we've been waiting all year to just recharge our soul. It is time to sit quietly and think about, as a human being, what's the main reason for us being here and how we can improve in a better way.”
Journey to Wollongong
Wafaa is from a town 35 minutes drive from Damascus. Her eldest child was born in 2011, the year that civil war broke out and Assad’s regime began a terrible crackdown. More than 300,000 civilians died, millions fled the country.
“We never expected it'll escalate violently,” Wafaa says.
To get to hospital for the birth of her first child, Wafaa had to travel through 11 military checkpoints, with the possibility that her husband, a teacher, could be arrested at any time. “I used to pray and look at my daughter, say, ‘oh, Allah, please, because of this newborn, let us survive this time.’”
Her husband was arrested twice, then escaped to Lebanon in a dangerous nine-hour trek through the mountains. Wafaa later followed, having her second child in a refugee hospital where staff criticised her choice to have the baby. “It’s something I never wish on any woman.”
In 2014 Wafaa and her family came to Australia as refugees and her third child was born in the safety of Wollongong. She left behind a career in banking and insurance, and became a community mobiliser at SCARF Refugee Support. Now SCARF has merged with the Multicultural Communities Council of Illawarra (MCCI) and Wafaa channels her empathy, experience and language skills into her work as an employment program officer.
“The majority of refugee families are from Arabic speaking countries, either from Syria or Iraq,” she says. “Language is the major challenge for every refugee family.”
A typical day in Ramadan
Along with much of Wollongong’s Muslim community – which numbers about 5600 people, or 2.6% of the city’s population – Wafaa and her family are now fasting from dawn to dusk.
Ordinarily, Muslims would pray five times a day and the difference during Ramadan is the pace slows, Wafaa says. “We give more time for those five prayers. We sit more on our knees every morning.
“We wake up about four o'clock to have a meal called Suhoor. We try to make it as a breakfast – dates, yoghurt, sometimes leftover burek or rice, olives, cheese, hummus, some vegetables, egg.”
Her children love Suhoor, Wafaa says.
“They like it because it's special. We never wake up all together, we never have this time together. So we have this meal, we pray all together before sunrise. Then our day starts.
“It’s normal for everyone.”
Wafaa says she’s not strict with her little ones as her parents were: “They have something at midday because they go to school and run around.”
Eating good, filling food is key, and so is talking to her children’s teachers and packing an emergency bag.
“We all have a bag with a muesli bar, apple, Panadol and water. Because here it's a long day, and the sun is so strong, sometimes it’s 40 degrees. So we all have a plan B.”
It can be hard to balance school, sport and fasting commitments – last year, for example, her children’s swimming carnival was scheduled during Ramadan.
The Islamic calendar follows the lunar cycle, which is why holy month begins on a different date each year. This is also why the moon is a key feature in decorations. Wafaa’s children – now aged 13, 11 and 8 – have cut out moons and stars, and a lantern on her dining table pays a tribute to the lights of the old drummers waking people before dawn.
Generosity is a significant part of Ramadan, with donations to a mosque or charity made towards the end of holy month.
“While we fast, we just think about others,” Wafaa says. “I remember being little, and our parents say you have to try, because some people, they don't have food to eat.
“We charge ourselves – yes, we are fasting now, but we know we are doing something that Allah asks us to do and most likely it will be good for our bodies.
“If we don't need to fast, it's not a big deal. Yes, it’s one pillar of our five pillars of Islam. But if anyone is sick, traveling… they don't have to.
“It’s meant to be more quiet, more personal time.”
Served with love
Preparing dinner during Ramadan is an act of love, with Wafaa planning family favourites like soup, burek or fattoush.
“I start to think how my children will smile when they try it, how my husband will like it, my mum or my dad or our friends when we invite them. You start to think how it will make others happy when they break their fast – so we make it with love, honest love at that time.”
Along with the mezze, Wafaa will serve a deliciously sweet apricot juice, a taste that sparks memories of childhood. “The smell!” she says, remembering the scents wafted through neighbours’ windows and when the sound of cannon fire in the mountains signalled it was time for all the children to run home for dinner.
After Iftar, the day traditionally ends with a fifth prayer at a mosque.
“We have four local mosques: the new Omar mosque in Gwynneville, we have University of Wollongong, we have Bilal mosque for the Turkish community at Cringila and As-Salaam Mosque in Berkeley. And those four mosques will be very busy after 9pm.”
Wafaa goes to the smaller UOW mosque – it’s not in a residential area, so there’s no need to worry about disturbing neighbours.
“We pray as men and women and children, and it is so important for my kids to see us all together. I need them to see my community, how they pray and celebrate.”
The gatherings are a treasured time of reunions, with old friends wishing each other ‘Ramadan Mubarak’ [Blessed Ramadan].
“Sometimes when you see people just practise their life like yours, it gives you power, it just gives you energy.”
For Wafaa, the time of reflection inevitably brings on homesickness. She thinks of her sister, her late father-in-law and of her grandmother who loved having everyone at her table.
“Oh, on the first day we just cry when we sit,” she says.
“I remember the people who died during war. I remember the people being arrested and who never came back. I look at my husband, it could be him, not coming back. I look at my kids, it could be them in some Syrian refugee camps. It's very emotional. The children say: ’It’s okay, Mommy, enjoy. We are all fine now. It's safe now.’”
Ending with a celebration
After 30 days, Ramadan ends with the festival of Eid al-Fitr. Sweet treats like Ma’amoul and Ka'ak are popular dishes – Wafaa says her mum bakes the best ka’ak, with flour, ghee, coconut, syrup and cinnamon. It’s a happy time, as families and friends come together after the discipline of prayer and fasting.
“It's just time to celebrate. We are heroes,” Wafaa says, smiling.
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