Open Writing

Ramadan is once again being observed by millions of Muslims around the world. The next four weeks will provide time for reflection, time for reading of the Koran and the strict observance of taking no food or drink during daylight hours. Anyone, Muslim or otherwise, observed breaking these rules will be severely reprimanded, with punishments ranging from deportation to imprisonment. Children, pregnant women and the infirmed are excused from fasting.

For non-Saudi or non-Muslim residents, life goes on as normal. Most Western-style housing compounds have restaurants which operate as usual, however as a mark of respect to the many Muslims around them, residents generally eat and drink inside their own homes.

Mornings in Riyadh are unusually quiet as the Saudis sleep late after a long night of feasting and shopping. Schools and businesses open later and the shops will not begin trading until much later in the day. Many expatriates experiencing their first Ramadan have just become accustomed to the shops closing for prayer intermittently throughout the a day and are now completely bewildered by the new business hours.

Pakistani labourers, many of them Muslim, continue with their usual working hours. They trim trees in the centres of motorways and lay foundations in the suburbs in the heat of the day, without a single sip of water.

Supermarkets usually open in the mornings before closing for midday prayer. They open again, along with most shopping centres, in the early afternoon for about two hours before the next prayer in the mid-afternoon. Saudis begin to stir at this time, carrying out their business and buying food with their families for the long night ahead. There is about another two hours before Fitr – the breaking of the fast.

As Fitr approaches at sunset the Riyadh roads become gridlocked. Anticipation turns to anarchy as light-headed drivers attempt to reach their favourite eatery. Ford Explorers, Lexus and GMCs battle it out to be nearest the restaurant doors, double and even triple-parking, spilling onto the roads and highways.

We stop at intersections and watch Indian bicyclists pedal furiously across intersections in fear of their lives as Mercedes drivers run red lights, almost collecting them. BMWs push past us to be first at the red light, partially blocking turning traffic. The light goes green and the Cadillac on our right makes a left turn without indicating, while we drive straight ahead.

Afghanis and Egyptians greet each other with cries of “Ramadan Mubarak” (“Blessed Ramadan) as they walk along the narrow, crowded footpaths carrying huge piles of round, flat breads, while date vendors ply their trade on the sides of the roads.

A new Belgium acquaintance of mine actually wished me a “Happy Christmas” yesterday, such are the similarities with the coloured lights, gold decorations and buoyant atmosphere in the compounds and around the city.

Fitr is intended to be a light snack of dates and water before the later meal, in order to feel less than sated and not overstuffed, for the next two prayers. However, the eyes of hungry men are larger than their bellies and they feast eagerly on kebabs, KFC and sambosa (tasty meat parcels inside a deep-fried pastry triangle).

After the final prayer families sit down to banquets of rice, chicken and lamb, followed with plates laden with baklawa, the sweet, sticky pastry with pistachios.

Then it is time to shop.

The streets of Riyadh at 10pm during Ramadan are like five-o’clock rush hour anywhere in the western world – with a celebratory flavour.

Saudi bachelors drink coffee at Starbucks, blue-toothing and people-watching, while families trawl the aisles of Debenhams and Pumpkin Patch. Family groups retire to the families-only section of the food court for a last treat before the last business closes its doors at 3am.

The next prayer will be uttered before sunrise and the Saudis will then retire to bed as a new day, and another cycle, begins.