Delectations

Ramadan

I am an early riser, and in Tangier on November 30, I woke soon after five. I switched on my reading lamp, drew back the curtains and opened the shutters. It was either the last day of Ramadan, the month when no Moslem may smoke or take any sustenance, not even water, between dawn and dusk, or the first of Shawwal, the tenth month and the start of Aid El Seghir, the little Feast Day, the three-day festivities that are generally known as Aid El Fitr. I wanted to know which it was. On the previous night I had not heard the explosion of the nine cannons that would have signaled the sight of the new moon. As I read, I waited for the sound of the single cannon that would, if Ramadan was not yet ended, announce the start of another fast day. Half-past five became quarter to six. Six became quarter past. My window faces east. The sky began to lighten. Surely by now a white thread could be distinguished from a black, the proof that the day had started. By half-past six it was almost daylight. Had I failed to hear the cannon? I am slightly deaf. In the field behind my flat, a building operation was in progress. At seven there were no workmen there. Ramadan must be over. A minute later I knew for certain. A Moroccan strolled down the street smoking a cigarette. My heart filled with jubilation and relief.

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Alec Waugh

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Ramadan

I am an early riser, and in Tangier on November 30, I woke soon after five. I switched on my reading lamp, drew back the curtains and opened the shutters. It was either the last day of Ramadan, the month when no Moslem may smoke or take any sustenance, not even water, between dawn and dusk, or the first of Shawwal, the tenth month and the start of Aid El Seghir, the little Feast Day, the three-day festivities that are generally known as Aid El Fitr. I wanted to know which it was. On the previous night I had not heard the explosion of the nine cannons that would have signaled the sight of the new moon. As I read, I waited for the sound of the single cannon that would, if Ramadan was not yet ended, announce the start of another fast day. Half-past five became quarter to six. Six became quarter past. My window faces east. The sky began to lighten. Surely by now a white thread could be distinguished from a black, the proof that the day had started. By half-past six it was almost daylight. Had I failed to hear the cannon? I am slightly deaf. In the field behind my flat, a building operation was in progress. At seven there were no workmen there. Ramadan must be over. A minute later I knew for certain. A Moroccan strolled down the street smoking a cigarette. My heart filled with jubilation and relief.