Sofia Cann Guest Column - 12/03/26

Faith grows in the quiet moments

Last year I wrote a column trying to answer a question I had been asked countless times over the years: what exactly are Ramadan and Eid? 

You would think that, as someone born in Yorkshire to Pakistani Muslim parents, that would have been an easy question for me to answer, but in truth, it was harder than I expected. Like many second-generation Muslims in Britain, I grew up knowing the traditions, the food, the celebrations and went through the motions, but the deeper understanding of the faith was lost along the way.

Writing that column was my attempt to reconnect with something that had always been part of my identity but that I had neglected having to balance living between cultures. A year later, I realise that Ramadan isn’t something you learn about once and tick off your to do list, but it’s continuous and something you grow into.

For anyone unfamiliar, Ramadan is the holy month of fasting in Islam when Muslims fast from dawn until sunset, abstaining from food and drink, including water. But there’s more to it. What Ramadan actually asks of you is patience, reflection and discipline. It’s about slowing down and take stock of your life. It’s an opportunity to break bad habits and form good ones. It’s also a chance to show real gratitude for the things we normally take for granted.

My journey sees me still reading and learning, and still trying to understand the Qur'an properly rather than relying on bits of knowledge passed down through family, friend, and social media. What I’ve discovered is that faith doesn’t suddenly come to you overnight, instead it grows quietly in everyday moments and some of these moments come from the most unexpected places.

My husband Alex Cann is from York, a proud Anglo-Saxon and not religious at all, but during Ramadan he has somehow become my unofficial timekeeper.
More than once he has set an early morning alarm waking me up to ensure I have something to eat and drink to close my fast. He often appears at the kitchen door saying, “I think it’s nearly time to open your fast.” Sometimes he has already checked the app or printed calendar from the local mosque my dad attended when he was alive, to track the fasting times. He’s also been on hand to shout through to me when my prayer alarm is going off or if I have fallen asleep on the sofa you will hear him ask “have you done your last prayer of the day?” It makes me smile because you don’t have to practice the same religion or any religion to understand and support one another. It's something some world leaders could do with taking note of.

When I was younger, I thought practising faith meant having everything figured out and knowing exactly what to do, when to do it and never getting it wrong. But the reality for many, especially those of us born and raised in Britain, is that it’s a journey. For me, Ramadan has become something I genuinely look forward to each year. In a world that moves at such a pace, where there’s polarised views and conflict, it forces you to pause, reflect and reset. Hunger reminds you to appreciate what you have and how it can all snatched at any moment, prayer creates moments of mindfulness in the midst of our busy lives and charity reminds you of your duty as humans to do good for others - loved ones and strangers.

And then, at the end of it all, comes Eid. Ramadan is the quiet reflection and Eid is the joyful celebration. It’s family gatherings, far too much food, children excitedly opening envelopes of money and my mum insisting that everyone eats just one more thing and take lots home with you. It’s laughter around the table and the familiar chaos that comes with a house full of friends and relatives.

But the thing I appreciate most now is the sense of community. Plates of food shared with neighbours and messages from friends wishing you Eid Mubarak. For a moment, the world feels less fractured and a little more connected.

I still wouldn’t describe myself as someone who has completely figured out faith, but a year after writing my first column, I do know that Ramadan isn’t about perfection. It’s about intention. It’s about trying to be a little better than you were yesterday.

Ramadan and Eid Mubarak from me, Alex and Colin Cann.