THE MOON OF RAMADAN

Otago Daily Times, Issue 18899, 27 June 1923, Page 4

THE MOON OF RAMADAN

ISLAM’S SACRED MONTH. CEREMONIES IN EGYPT. Wo are sitting, a variegated throng, in armchairs and on divans around the wall of a carpeted reception-room (writes Arundel in the Manchester Guardian). We are of all rallies and degrees and of all varieties of costume. Efl'otidis in European clothes with the inevitable tarbiish, Englishmen in flannel suits and soft collars, and sheikhs in their flowing robes of all colours, sit side by side and converse in English, French, or Arabic, according to the extent of their linguistic resources, smoking mutually presented cigarettes, and sipping cups of coffee or of warm extract of cinnamon, while uniformed attendants carry round trays of sweetmeats. In the centre of the ring, behind a table whereon writing materials are laid out in order, sit two stately bearded sheikhs in bright-coloured silk kuftans and jibbehs with spotless turbans. They are somewhat aloof from our light-hearted multitude and wear a more serious air. They smoko no cigarettes, and converse, if at all, only in low and subdued tones. They are the embodiment of all that Islam can show of stately dignity, and manifest something like a reticent tolerance of their gayer countrymen, to whom jocularity and merriment are as natural as their native sunshine. They are the President and the Vice-President respectively of the Moslem religious court, in one of whose ante-rooms wo are now sitting, and for them our gathering is no merry social function, but a serious religions duty. We are waiting for the moon that proclaims the advent of Ramadan, the solemn month in which the Koran was sent down from heaven and in which all pious Moslems, by their prophet’s injunction, must fast with a rigour which forbids them to allow either food or drink to enter their lips from such time as there is daylight enough to distinguish a white from a black thread until these distinctions of colour are annulled hy nightfall.

As wo sit and talk the strains of a distant band are heard, and the street outside pulsates with the throb of hurrying feet. The President sighs with a shrug of tolerant contempt, and settles himself in his chair. We, however, get up and go out en masse to the balcony, there to overlook the procession of the carnival whereby the coarser souls, in a spirit of Shrove Tuesday revels, fortify themselves by a final fling of jollity for the rigours of the fast. A crowd of racing boys on donkeys heralds the arrival of the cavalcade as it files past the door of the court. r First come the troops .with their band. Then follow the police and the 'fire brigade. And then comes the real sight of the procession, a string of carts carrying the selected exponents of the various Egyptian trades. Bakers, tinsmiths, and coppersmiths, chairmakers, upholsterers, fishermen, and carpenters, each in their separate chariot, make the air resound with their shrill cries and dance with the tools of their trade. One or more merry men of each party work as they go. In the rear of the bakers’ cart two perspiring craftsmen bend over a kneading trough and. pummel a feather bed of dough till they are smothered in flour to the eyebrows. In the smith’s vehicle a small forge is kept in full blast, and the ringing of incessant hammers provides an accompaniment to the yells and chantings. ’The carpenters have made the sides of their chariot of unfinished doors of cabinets, and they tap with their hammers and push their planes in frenzy as the show goes on its way. An inspired member of the fishing fraternity adds to the general merriment and tests the genuineness of the good-humour apparent everywhere by casting his not over the heads of the onlookers and leaving the crowd to scramble for their turbans and tar bushes, which ho has dragged off as ho passed on his way. On the horse which drags each cart rides its “jockey”—a naked boy, his body fantastically painted in stripes of red, blue, or green. One might suspect that ho was meant to imitate a crocodile. One of these shameless imchins has decked his chin with a. false beard and looks an imp of mephitic origin. The humour of the flying quips and chants is fesconnine, and it is perhaps as well that it is not all intelligible. The most dignified section of the wild procession is the company of Berberines, who walk on foot, chanting hymns as they go. They wear spotless white galabiahs with green tarbushes and sashes. They are a race apart, living in desert villages around Assuan and speaking languages of their own, in no way akin to Arabic. They are our domestic servants in Egypt, and wait at our tables attired as they are now dressed, save that their tarbushes and sashes, when they are domestically employed, are of red instead of green. But the procession has passed and we return to the court. Twilight is falling and the atmosphere has become more solemn. The President is speaking in a low tone to a small group of men. They leave the room and we settle downy to await their return. They have mounted to the roof of the court and are looking for the new moon of Ramadan, whose advent must be formally proved according to Moslem law before the great fast can begin. The Clerk of the Court enters and sits beside the President’s table, sharpening his reed pen. The deputations returns and wo hear the quiet tones of the Cadi as ho examines the first witness. ITo has seen the moon, but where and how ? What was its angle with the setting sun? How far was it above the horizon? Win<;h way were the pointed? The President nods his head reflectively. The description seems to tally with the demands of astronomy. It can hardly have been invented Evidence is called as to the witness’s credibility. Me is a man of approved reputation, worthy of credence on his oath. Other witnesses are called. They are examined separately and tell the same story. Their depositions are recorded by the clerk, and they sign them There is a pause while the two Uadis read over the depositions and discuss the points in the evidence together. They nod in mutual acquiescence. The proof is clear. No doubt need bo entertained. Eyesight and astronomy are in accord. They replace the depositions on the table and lean back in their gilded chairs, while the company waits in expectant silence. Then the President rises to his feet and declares the findings of the court. The moon, he declares, has been seen and its rebirth attested by credible witnesses. The great fast begins from 3 o’clock in the morning and he calls on all devout Moslems to keep it with patience and severity according to the Prophet’s decree. He resumes his seat to sign an official telegram Ip Cairo, announcing that the moon has appeared and the ceremony is over. Tho party disperses, and we pass out, stopping to shake hands with the presiding Cadi and to thank him for his invitation to so interesting a ceremony. Ho joins to his courteous farewell a few words in slow Arabic, revealing a secret thought which has made him uncomfortable. ‘You will understand,” he says, “that the only part of the ceremony connected with our religion is the observation of the moon. Ml this” —jerking his hand slightly in tho direction of tho still vociferous crowds—“is ala shan fantasia (for the sake of carnival). Tho common people like to be amused”’ As we emerge into the street the ,-ftorglow of the sunset is fading in the oky, and tho dim crescent has disappeared. A circle of lights round the minaret of the neighbouring mosque announces that tho hours of feasting may be indulged by tho chattering crowds in the street, till at tho first gray of morning the lamps are extinguished and the boom of the Ramadan gun calls irne believers to wake to the first day of the fast.