Ramadan

The meal at which the Ramadan fast is broken is Iftar. It is a time when families and friends come together to share food and drink after 16 hours without - the length of the day varies depending on where you are in the world and the time of the year. Iftar comes immediately after the Maghrib, the sunset prayer- the fourth of the five that make up the daily prayers or salah.

The call to prayer from the mosques as the evening sets in, the adhan, announces the end of the fast.  On this, the fourth day of Ramadan, I await the call, quietly grateful for the day that is passing.

I have just finished cooking a beautiful chicken tagine with apricots and spices for Iftar - friends are coming over bringing dishes to share. 

It was a pure odyssey getting the ingredients for what was originally supposed to be lamb tagine - an adventure of the type I have come to expect in Gaza. The odyssey involved me being ferried around the city by a complete stranger who happened to be at the butchers when I went to buy the lamb they didn't have. He half volunteered, and half was instructed by the group of men there to take me to a place where I could get chicken instead. 

I got into his car wondering was this sensible, I'd have thought not, except for the fact that the exact same thing happened yesterday at the vegetable shop when a woman in the shop took me and my friend to where we needed to go, just because we'd asked directions. Kindness and generosity, charity and good deeds are all aspects of Ramadan, it is expected that people will take care of one another. Happily this spirit extends beyond Ramadan and is part of everyday life here.

When we got to the designated butchers, there was no shortage of chicken- or rather chickens. They were in a cage outside the shop awaiting their destiny- quite, quite alive and well and enjoying the drowsy afternoon shade. For a few seconds I had a complete crisis of conscience about my role in the demise of these little creatures. In the end I thought about all the chicken that I have remorselessly eaten and decided it was hypocritical of me not to take responsibility for my actions, just because this time I had a more active part in the process. I hope I remember the weight of this decision every time I eat meat in the future.

Having told the butcher I wanted two birds, I couldn't look at them, knowing that they would be gracing the dinner table later. My gallant chauffeur intervened to protect my girly sensibilities, he got me to sit in the car as he negotiated with the butcher on my behalf. The butcher speedily dispatched, plucked and quartered the birds. And then my hero drove me home. He took at least a half an hour out of his day to help a complete stranger on a foodie mission, and then would accept no money for his trouble. I never fail to be touched by the kindness of people here. I love this place!