Prayers, cookies, and fish on the side. Amina Elbendary rejoices as the nation kneads stuffed dough and forgets, for three days, its budget worries In the beginning there will be kahk -- mouth watering, soft, sugary cookies -- lots of it. There will also be new clothes, a meal of fish, an eidiyah or pocket money, and celebrations galore. In the morning of eid, millions will gather at mosques and public spaces, chanting the takbirat, the melodious litanies announcing the religious occasion. Later, while traffic will generally seem to be managed by the heavens above, children dressed as little fluttering colourful angels will be seen trotting the streets and parks. There will be fun and joy. In the afternoon, a sumptuous meal, perhaps of fish, will be served, to be followed with more fun and games. In some quarters, the ancient tradition of visiting the cemeteries on the eid is still alive. How can you forget loved ones who have passed away on such a special day? The deceased are part of the family yet and are part of the celebrations, and Cairo's cemeteries too will be alive with a quieter form of festivities. Even though this is as its name indicates, al-eid al-saghir -- the lesser of the two Islamic feasts -- it is usually the more festive. Perhaps because it follows the month of fasting, this eid is generally more exciting. But will the city shine through the eid this year like always? To judge by the sight of Cairo this week, people are doing their best to celebrate according to available means. Some shop owners have ventured and installed traditional lighting to decorate their fronts, but these are few and far between. Downtown Cairo was busy at night, the streets full of families of shoppers, some carrying rather light shopping bags. At bakeries and patisseries, crowds were buying half and one-kilo boxes of kahk, ghurayeba (short bread) and assorted cookies. "People have to buy kahk every year, of course. It's a custom, we can't give it up no matter what," a cheerful sales assistant at a main downtown patisserie explained. "No, they're buying the same as always. But, of course, the demand is highest on plain kahk and kahk with malban -- these are more affordable than the ones stuffed with nuts." There is typically a difference of around LE10 per kilo between those two kinds. Reem, mother of two, says that she ended up buying more kahk than usual this year; her husband's company used to send them complimentary kahk and cookies for the eid, a habit the firm broke this year. Other than kahk, the other sign of eid is buying new clothes. It is a sunna, or custom, of Prophet Mohamed to wear new clothes in celebration of the feast, if one can afford it. And people are buying, shopkeepers confirm. In fact, shops have been looking forward to the feast to boost sales and move the stagnant market. Families are giving priority to children, however, and they are not buying all the items they would like to. Abeer, mother of three-year-old Salma, explains that she takes the eid tradition to the limit, even more than her mother used to. "I buy three sets of new clothes for each one of us for the three days of the feast, including new shoes, new socks, new pyjamas and night gowns, even new underwear for my daughter," she says proudly. But Abeer is in the minority. "I buy one new set for my daughters and one item to complement my wardrobe, just to feel it's eid, even if only a pair of shoes, anything. My husband doesn't buy himself new clothes for the eid," Reem says. Inas, whose daughters are nine and six years old, does the same. "I try to get myself a jacket or a skirt, and something for my husband too. It gives one a feeling of joy even if one only buys a new shirt or a pair of shoes. Besides, it's a sunna, you know, so that's a good excuse!" Is eid as fun as it used to be? Well, it is for enthusiastic Abeer because obviously she makes a great effort to celebrate. She's introduced new traditions to her family, now that she is a wife and mother. "We all attend the eid prayers now. My husband and I pick up my mother and my sister and brother-in-law. We didn't use to attend the prayers at the mosque as children, but now we take our children too. Afterwards, we have a tradition of buying a balloon for each one of us, including the grown- ups! And the first obligatory stop is at Farghali juice shop to drink a fruit cocktail special. We all just love it. When we go visit my mother-in-law, she usually has fatta with meat for breakfast!" For Reem, eid is fun when she celebrates with her in-laws in Alexandria because they're a big family. "We live in a suburb of Cairo and it's very quiet, we don't feel the celebrations. I used to enjoy it more when I was a kid. I don't think my daughter will enjoy it as much although I make an effort to let her feel it's eid. Even early on in Ramadan, I insisted she come down with me to choose a traditional candle-lit fanous and we went down together to buy the eid outfit so that she understands what eid means. Even though she has enough clothes I wanted her to know this particular outfit is special." Rasha, whose daughter is two and a half and whose son is one year old, is more thrifty. She sets aside new outfits from the season's wardrobe and takes them out only on the eid. That way they all have something new to wear without the added costs. The essential part of the eid morning, after the prayers, is visiting families and friends to exchange greetings -- kahk-tasting rounds. But many Egyptians no longer make the family rounds like we used to in yester years. Families are generally smaller and many have been divided across cities and states. Inas explains that eid was more festive when she was a child. "As children, we all went with our parents to spend the night before the eid at my grandparents', and all our cousins and aunts and uncles would be there. We'd wake up early and watch the men as they went out for prayers. When they came back we'd have an early breakfast, put on our new clothes and go out on visits and picnics. But now, my daughters don't wake up that early and they're not as excited about the new clothes. We're also a smaller family now, there aren't that many aunts and uncles or the full house at my grandparents'," she laments. "Our kids don't enjoy the eid like we used to," Mona, with a four year-old daughter and one and a half year old son, says. "Actually, I'm more excited about the new clothes I got Hadil, my daughter, than she is. I keep going in to look at them every now and then! Our kids are getting things easier than we did. It's a different generation; they don't appreciate things like we did. We'd keep dreaming of a particular toy and waiting for it for weeks before the eid," she remarks. Lunch is spent with the family, the grandparents or the in-laws and for many, especially in Cairo as well as coastal cities, a menu of fish and seafood is a must. No one is sure where that tradition has come from. Some argue that Egyptians stay away from fish throughout Ramadan because it makes people thirsty. Others say that in Ramadan every family does its best to cook the best meals for iftar and by the eid people have had enough of meat. "Yes, we have to have fish, fried and grilled as well as calamari, whether we're in Cairo or Alexandria," Reem explains. "We like to have shrimps too but that usually depends on the financial circumstances," she chuckles, "Shrimp is cheaper in Alexandria, of course, but I don't think we'll be having any this eid." Unlike Abeer who's eager to follow every tradition and has invented some of her own, Rania is a reluctant feaster. "My mother used to buy us kahk. But since she passed away I don't buy any, no. I mean, I stopped to think about it and it only makes one fat, you know. It doesn't have any social value or meaning. Maybe when my daughter Aria grows up a little bit -- she's one and a half still -- we might start to get kahk at home. Sometimes we visit my in-laws in Tanta during the eid. That is usually fun. It's a very different atmosphere there. They're a large family, and there are many children around. The house would be open all day, with visitors coming and going all the time. My mother-in-law bakes kahk at home and so it's like a moulid (saint's day) there. There are boxes full of biscuits and petits-fours and kahk all over the house. The women of the family usually turn the kitchen into a beehive the week before the eid. And for eid lunch, they cook traditional rural food, especially duck and ruqaq pastry. It's much more fun than here in Cairo," she opines. "When we stay in Cairo for the eid we don't go out, I hate crowds so much I would rather stay at home." Another latecomer to the eid tradition is Rasha. "Our extended family lives in cities other than Cairo, in Suez, Ismailiya and Alexandria -- so that while we were growing up we didn't get to see our cousins and aunts and uncles during the eid. When we were children, my mother used to get my sister and I new clothes, and we'd lay them out the night before in the living room in preparation. Then as a teenager I rebelled. Eid was for children, I decided and refused to get new clothes. And by that time, our parents were too lazy to argue and weren't so keen on the celebrations themselves. It's only after I got married and had kids of my own that I've started rethinking. Last year, actually, I gave birth to my son on the first day of the eid; so that was the celebration! This year we're doing the whole thing: lunch at my in-laws and then my mother, and the kids will have new clothes, new shoes and accessories, everything. My husband does not forget to treat himself; he always has something new to wear on the eid and encourages me to do the same. I want to get myself something new too this year," she muses. While the first day or two of eid are spent mostly with the bigger family, many like to spend the third day out in the open air with their kids. Public parks, the zoo and gardens are always full of picnicking families. Swings and games are set up in main squares. "Sometimes we check out some one-day package at Ain Sukhna or any other resort close to Cairo. Other years we go to the club. It's nice to be out in the air," Inas explains. After having lunched at both sets of grandparents the first two days, on the third day Abeer and her daughter and husband would normally go out to get some fresh air and games, "but we always go home to eat fisikh and millouha", traditional salted raw fish", she says. Eid's special treat is of course the eidiyah. As children, that used to be one of the more exciting moments when we would be trusted -- briefly -- with crisp newly printed banknotes given as treats by grandparents, aunts and uncles and which would be used to get that coveted toy or dress. In recent years, the eidiyah has devalued along with the currency and the extended family are now less likely to indulge the children. But the eidiyah is not only for the kids. "When I was engaged," Rasha recalls, "I was surprised that my mother-in-law gave me pocket money as eidiyah. I hadn't expected anything like that. Now my husband gives me a eidiyah every feast, or sometimes he would buy me jewellery. Usually it's my parents who give my children the eidiyah, but I plan to give them something from me too this year. My mother is very keen on this -- her own grandmother used to give her two new dresses as eidiyah every feast, even after she was married with kids." In fact, many grown women continue to receive eidiyah from their mothers and from their husbands as well. Abeer also gets a present for her mother on the feast. Age-old traditions die hard, and eid festivities are mercifully destined to stay with us despite the difficult times. The main differences this year seem to be ones of quantity -- there might be less kahk, less new clothes, even a smaller eidiyah -- but this in no way infringes on the quality of eid: there will be just as much joy, God willing. Kull sana wa entou tayyibin.
