When I think of sambusas, I picture their crisp edges and warm centers, almost glowing like tiny lanterns on the table just before iftar. Sambusas are triangular, golden-brown pastries that appear in almost every Muslim’s home during the Holy month of Ramadan. The smell always hits first, a mix of frying dough, seasoned meat, onions, and spices so warm they feel like a hug. Oil crackled in the pan, popping loudly like it was impatient for sunset to arrive. My mother would lean over the stove, her hijab tucked behind her ears, and she’d say, “ Go check the time again, the adhan must be close!” I’d laugh and answer, “ Mom, I checked two minutes ago!” As the sky deepened into a purple-blue, my siblings and I hovered around the kitchen like hungry bees. The sambusas sat in a silver tray, steam, rising from them like a soft cloud. When the call to prayer finally echoed through the house, it felt like the whole world exhaled. I grabbed a sambusa, its heat stinging my fingertips, and I took a bite. It was as if every flavor carried a memory of the women in my who had folded these pastries for generations. Even now, whenever I see sambusas during Ramadan, I feel connected to something bigger, a tradition woven through family, faith, and the simple joy of gathering after a long day of fasting. The sambusa is more than food, it's a reminder of togetherness, heritage, and the warmth of my culture.

– S.A

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