Khan Al-Khalili

9

The fasting month of Ramadan now approached; there were just a few days left before it started. But Ramadan never arrived unexpectedly, and its advent was always preceded by preparations to accord with its sacred status. Ahmad’s mother was never going to be one to shirk her duties in that regard, she being the person in the household primarily responsible for making sure that the month was properly observed and respected. One day she made it the topic of family conversation.

“It’s a month that brings its own rules as well as obligations,” she said, obviously directing her remarks at Ahmad.

He was well aware of the point she was making. “For sure Ramadan has its rules,” he replied defensively, “but war is a bitter necessity for all of us. It overrides all other obligations.”

His mother was very unhappy at that remark. “God forbid that we should ever break our customs,” she said.

That managed to arouse his miserly streak. “Ramadan can pass just like any other month,” he said in an exasperated tone. “We can make up for the things we missed doing sometime in the future when there’s peace.”

“But what about Ramadan treats: candied almonds, honey cakes, and mini-stuffed pancakes?”

Even though he was feeling annoyed, the very mention of those treats had a magical effect on him, not merely because he loved them so much but also because they invoked happy memories of the beloved month and especially his childhood. Even so, such memories, wonderful though they might be, were not enough to counteract the bitter reality of inflation or to soften his frugality.

So, even though in his heart of hearts he longed to go along with the idea, he delivered a firm refusal. “Let’s forget about such luxuries as long as we’re living through these difficult times. Let’s beg God Almighty to help us with the bare necessities of life.”

His father gave the impression of not paying much attention, but in fact he was listening carefully to what his son was saying. He was inclined to agree with his wife’s position, but did not have the necessary courage to say this in so many words. However, he intervened at the crucial moment.

“There’s no need for us to either stint or be extravagant,” he said.

His son realized full well that his father was taking his mother’s side, and he certainly could not talk to him as bluntly as he had to his mother. From a very early age he had learned to respect his father. As was always the case, the last thing he wanted to do was to ignore the hand extended to him for help now that he had become his father’s primary source of support. With that in mind, he made no comment although he felt awkward and unsure of what to say.

It was his father who eventually spoke. “We can make do,” he said, “with some pine-nuts and raisins for stuffing and a packet of apricot drink mix to whet the whistle. We need only have honey-cake just once, and the stuffed pancakes twice; they don’t need to be cooked in fat. All that won’t cost a lot.”

The whole thing appalled him. He was sure that during Ramadan they would spend what little he usually saved every month. He might even have to withdraw an additional amount from his savings account. That idea really stuck in his craw. Just then he remembered something else that was even more significant than the honey cake and candied almonds.

“What about meat?” he asked.

“The government has allowed the purchase of meat throughout the holy month,” said his mother, mustering all her resources. “That’s because a piece of meat is something that the heart of an exhausted faster really comes to rely on.”

“But our budget’s too small,” protested Ahmad. “We can’t afford to buy a pound of meat every day along with all our other necessities!”

“You’re right,” said his father, but then used a certain amount of cunning as he went on to say, “so it’ll be better for us to eat no meat once every three days.”

In the few days left before Ramadan actually started, the mother busied herself getting the kitchen ready, cleaning pots and pans, and storing away almonds, sugar, onions, and spices. Even though she had only been observing the Ramadan fast for a few years, the advent of the fasting month was still a source of pleasure and delight for her since it was always a month devoted to the kitchen as much as to fasting itself — even though the latter was its primary purpose. What was best about the month were the long nights and enjoyable visits where conversation would be accompanied by the cracking of nuts and melon seeds. This particular year they were lucky because Ramadan was falling in the month of October when the weather was usually mild and the temperature would be reasonable. That would make it feasible to stay up until the initial crack of light announced the arrival of dawn.

The night of the moon-sighting arrived; after sunset everyone was waiting and wondering if today would be the day. At dinnertime the lights on the minaret of the al-Husayn Mosque were turned on to announce that the moon had indeed been sighted. Because of the war emergency, they had decided not to fire off cannons but to make the announcement by illuminating the minaret. The entire column had been decorated with lightbulbs that emitted a pearly light over the entire neighborhood. Groups of people with drums now toured the quarter, calling out “Time to fast! To the fast let us aspire, just as Islam’s judge requires!” Young men greeted the group with shouts, while the girls ululated. A feeling of joy spread throughout the quarter as though borne on a night breeze.

“I wonder how Ramadan is being celebrated this year in our old quarter?” Ahmad could not help asking.

“How much of our city have you even seen, my boy?” his father asked with a smile. “Did you ever see the beginning of Ramadan in this new quarter of ours before the war started? Everything filled with light and happiness; nights spent awake, nights replete with conversation, recitations, and innocent games. In the good old days when we were all young and healthy, a group of friends and I would walk for an hour before the dawn fast-breaking all the way from al-Sakakini to this quarter. Once here we would eat a breakfast of trotters and sheep’s head meat in the al-Husayn Café and smoke a shisha. We used to listen to Shaykh Ali Mahmud recite the call to prayer and then return home in the early morning.”

“When was that?” Ahmad asked.

“When you were ten,” his father replied without even having to think.

Ah, what a wonderful time those childhood days were, days of merriment, happiness and being spoiled! That was an era that both father and son could cry over.

That evening Ahmad indulged in his new habit, making his way to the Zahra Café. By so doing he was cutting his reading time in half, but he found that the company gave him quite as much pleasure as did reading and seclusion. There he met the group of friends whom he was getting to know much better, as they were him. The conversation revolved around Ramadan nights and how they were going to spend them.

“Don’t wear yourselves out thinking about it,” was the raucous advice offered by Abbas Shifa (the husband of the so-called “husband lover”). “We have our own past Ramadan nights to use as a model. After we’ve broken the fast, we come to the café and stay here until midnight. Then we make our way to ‘you-know-where’ and spend the rest of the night there until the dawn fast-breaking.”

Ahmad pricked up his ears when he heard the phrase “you-know-where” and wondered to himself if the group indulged themselves in sinful practices during the month of repentance. But he decided that his own plan was clear enough: he would stay with them in the café for as long as they did and then return home. Once there, he could read until dawn and keep doing that until the month came to an end.