For millions of Muslims across the world celebrating the holy month of Ramadan in the comfort of home alongside their families, it is time to strengthen bonds of solidarity with Palestinians and Iraqis Memories of the past Nermeen Al-Mufti finds Iraqis are still hoping for a peaceful month Before wars, siege and occupation descended on Iraq, one of Ramadan's rituals was a shopping spree in Shorja, Baghdad's largest wholesale market for foodstuffs. But Shorja is a different place now. From a market for food and spices, it has now taken to selling anything and everything. Shoppers often have trouble squeezing their way into the shops, due to the increased number of peddlers displaying their merchandise on the ground. That is, when the market has been safe. Under the US-led occupation, the market has been bombed several times, while on one occasion hundreds of shops exploded into raging fire. This Ramadan is the seventh since the occupation. It has also been the safest. But how much Ramadan fun can the Baghdadis really hope to have? Hanaa Gharib, 58, recalls memories of the past. "As a child, I used to climb to the top of the house and wait for the nearby mosque to light up its minaret. The call to prayer came one minute after the lights came on. And the television used to broadcast the firing of the Ramadan cannon. The cannon used to sit at the banks of the Tigris, near the end of Rashid Street. My parents would wait for me to come back from the roof and announce that it was indeed time for Iftar," she told Al-Ahram Weekly. To her sadness, Gharib was unable to send her children to the roof to re-enact the scene of those long past Ramadan months. "I don't want to wax lyrical about times that seem so distant. The minaret hasn't been lit for years. Since 1991, we haven't had a regular electricity supply. We know that it is Iftar time when we look at our watches. No call to prayers wafts in the air. The cannon on the Tigris has fallen silent. And power cuts make it hard to watch television," Gharib added. Gharib still hopes, however, for the return of at least one ritual. The mesaharati -- he who walks the streets and beats his drum to announce the pre-dawn meal -- may be able to walk the streets once more. "Wouldn't it be nice to wake up to the rhythmic chanting of a mesaharati ?" she asks. Gharib's neighbour Om Ahmed recalls how she used to cross the nearby bridge and have Iftar at the mausoleum of Saint Khidr Ilyas, along with hundreds of other women. There they lit candles, placed them on little rafts made of fig leaves, and let them out on the river. Then they watched. If the candles stayed lit, then they would know that their men would come back safely from the front. Up until recently it was customary for men to head out after Iftar to mosques or coffeehouses. Many would participate in a game of moheibas. One team would hide a ring and the other team would have to find it. Whole neighbourhoods, yet unscarred by sectarian strife, would take part in games that would last for the entire month. Instead, now everyone speaks of lentils and other foods, about how unaffordable the most basic necessities have become. The press ridiculed the Ministry of Trade when it promised each family half a kilo of lentils extra on their ration cards, so the ministry upped it to half a kilo per family member. The price of a kilo of lentils in the local market is 5,000 dinars, or $4. Prices have gone up sharply since the government promised to increase salaries. The salaries were cut back two months on from the increase upon the advice of the World Bank, but the prices stayed up. So a month conventionally known for its extravagance has turned into an occasion to tighten belts. However, some symptoms of normalcy are slowly coming back. Parks are open to the public till 9pm, whereas in both 2006 and 2007 Baghdad was under curfew from 3pm onwards. Commercial areas stay open until 11pm and on Al-Kirada Street, several coffeehouses plan to host moheibas games every night. Iyad Aziz, a coffeehouse owner, told the Weekly the Iraqis are determined to overcome sectarian tensions. During the premier league football final, which Aziz attended last Thursday, the fans chanted: "We're all brothers, Sunnis and Shias!" For his part, Aziz is organising a moheibas game in his coffeehouse for two teams. One team is from the predominantly-Sunni Al-Adhamiya district; the other is from the dominantly-Shia Al-Kazimiya. While showing immense strength against the odds, Baghdadis still remember with sadness the Ramadan of 2006, when dozens were abducted and slain. Om Asmaa, a university professor, is still hoping that her husband, who was abducted that year, will return. She paid his abductors $50,000, but he continues to be missing. She says that she lives on the hope that one day he would return. According to Mohamed al-Askari, spokesman for the occupation-backed Ministry of Defence, acts of violence have dropped in Baghdad by 89 per cent since 2006.
