Ramadan Kareem

In the corner of the majlis at the Bastikya sits a man in a dishdash singing. (A dishdash is the traditional dress for local men and a majlis is a meeting room of a traditional house). Around him lie an assortment of traditional Arabic articles and instruments. With Dubai's 40 degree heat, the woven fan is soon seen in action. 

The man has a stool next to him and obliges me with a photo.

We later learn that the egal he is wearing, the black rope that secures the headpiece in place, has many uses and in the nomadic days was used to tie the camel's feet together so they didn't disappear into the desert. The headscarf also was used as a shield from the sun and sand, and the white colour of the dishdash is appropriate as it reflects rather then absorbs the sun's rays.

In hushed tones we take in the ambience and architecture of the Bastikya, which is Dubai's best example of local and traditional construction. Pillared archways divide up the space and the encircling steps lead up to numerous small adjoining rooms. Stooping through these doorways reveals intimate nooks cushioned in red. 

Once most of the quests are assembled in the majlis we make our way over to the larger room where the iftar will soon commence. Sunset is approaching. (Iftar is the name of the meal at sunset when muslims break their fast).

As the call to prayer sounds from the minaret nearby, our local hosts arrange themselves. They stand shoulder to shoulder, face the same direction - the direction of Mecca, and pray. Eager to share their culture and religion with us, they pray in our view and even insist we can photograph and film their prayers.

Water and dates are then distributed to break the fast. Our local hosts have been fasting, as well as many of the muslim guests in attendance. While non-muslims do not have to fast, everyone in Dubai must observe Ramadan by not eating or drinking in public. Blinds are drawn on cafes and restaurants; many are closed during the day, or are only open for home delivery and take away. A small number of outlets are open but are curtained off and sheilded from public view.  One such place is the designated non-fasters food area at the Mall of the Emirates which, behind huge black curtains and manned by security, is almost the only place in town one can eat in 'public', and the prices certainly reflect their monopoly.

Local cuisine follows the dates. Our hosts explain the dishes, how they are prepared and note that local food is strongly influenced by India. Spices like cardamon and saffron are commonly used.

I particularly enjoy the dessert; one being a type of flan covered in mango sauce, and the other - 'the local version of Dunkin Donuts' - a sweet, fried, doughy ball. I don't catch the names of the desserts - I'm too busy enjoying them!

Despite specifically setting aside my shawl to take with me, I forget to take it and am nearly not let into the mosque. Fortunatley there are abayas on loan and one of the hosts - just as the doors to the mosque are closing - produces a headscarf for me. Phew! Once inside, I must of counted at least three girls with uncovered heads, so I don't feel so bad.

Again in the mosque the hosts are very open and welcomed photos. What I feel would be typically off limits, on this occasion is open for us. Having only been in a mosque once before, I can't resist taking a few snaps.  

As we sit in the mosque, one of the hosts talks us through the fundmentals of the Islamic religion, the features of the mosque and the significance of Ramadan. It is an enlightening session. Just as muslims stand side by side to pray, our speaker tells us we are all ultimatley the same - we all have the same hardware, its just the software that differenciates us. He says that so many times people think the grass is always greener someplace else, but suggests we be thankful for what we have - the grass is green now he says. That's a good phrase - I make a mental note to remember to use it. 

Musing over newly formed theological notions, I follow the group for the Bastikya tour. Its dark now, but still the humidity prevails. We're all sticky and sweaty and my notebook 'fan', moving the hot air around, doesn't help. Intermittently our guide stops to explain some features of traditional local architecture. The windtowers are the air-conditioning systems of the past and the more windtowers on a house the weathlier the family. He also tells us that walls were built high and close together to provide more shade. 

From the dress, to the architecture, to the food, every traditional feature seems to have a sensible reason behind it, except for the small windows which one of the hosts jokingly says are small 'so that the women have more privacy'...So I'm not sure about the small windows, I'm guessing though they are small to keep out the sun...    

Back crosslegged on our cushions, we close the evening with tea and a question-and-answer session. Myths about local dress and weddings are dispelled, and some of the guests even get themselves invited to the host's house - to meet his mother. Emiratis are such hospitable people!

It was a truly an enlighting evening and I'm thankful I got to learn a bit more about the city I live in and the Emirati culture. I'm hoping to get to a few more iftars before Ramadan ends  - the next one is tommorow night so I won't have to wait long. Ramadan Kareem :)

(August 2011)