My childhood; the Eid

We hardly took part in the Ramadan and when we did, we fasted half-days. We were always so excited about this period because it was usually accompanied with a lot of goodies; my personal favourite was the dobino (dates) and specially fried 'kooshe' with the eggs (it feels weird saying 'koose' because I grew up saying 'kooshe'-old habits eh!). We were let off the hook because we were too young to bear the hunger pangs but we would always wake up at dawn to eat 'sagla' (suhoor) which we enjoyed more than the fasters did. You could never oversleep because the makeshift drums made from empty jumbo-sized tomato tins and cement paper, prompt as clockwork would wake you. Nobody knew where these young adults came from but they were always there to make sure that fasters did not miss 'sagla'. One would think these dawn affairs would be conducted quietly. Actually, when you think back on it, 'sagla' assembled every member of the family. You would hear your family tell jokes and taunt one another in the wee hours of the day. These times were priceless. We would say our prayers and get ready for school and if it was a weekend, we would stay up and watch the Cartoon Network on GTV. When it was mid-day and lips started curling into pouts and brows started creasing, Mama understood our language and would call us into the house to break our fast, all the while heaping praises on us; telling us how brave we had been, having fasted all morning. We would fast two half-days and one last one on the final day of the Ramadan making thirty days. We would end the holy month feeling as fulfilled as our adult counterparts. For us kids, the best part of the Ramadan was the eve of the Eid-ul Fitr and the blessed day itself. The girls would gather in the biggest compound in the neighbourhood to have beautiful patterns drawn on our hands and feet with 'zabla' (henna). We would cover our hands and feet overnight with plain rubber bags so that the ink would darken, leaving the beautifully drawn patterns more pronounced than ever. I always felt like the Eid-ul Fitr was enchanted. You would hear 'Ni ti yuun palli'; 'Naawuni pahimi ti yuun bobgu' everywhere. It was a beautiful frenzy. It felt like Allah Himself sent down the angels to sprinkle joy and happiness on every household leaving the community with a kind of joie de vivre. The Eid wasn't just about the meat and the food and the drinks: it was about the love, the happiness, the kindness that engulfed the whole community. It was indeed beautiful. -WFM