With more than one billion people observing Ramadan in the Muslim world, Al-Ahram Weekly examines how Muslims in war-ravaged -- and occupied -- countries in the Middle East are struggling to mark the holiest of months in the Islamic lunar calendar Ramadan among the corpses of Baghdad In Iraq, religion -- like politics -- can prove to be rather divisive. Marking this year's Ramadan fasting, clerics differed on the day the lunar month was to begin. The Sunnis started their fasting on Saturday, the Shia on Monday. But members of both Muslim sects continued to be killed as the holy month of piety proved unable to curb the violence throughout the country. On the first day of Ramadan, in the mostly Shia neighbourhood of Sadr City in northern Baghdad, two bombs went off near a truck hauling kerosene, killing 34, half of them women and children. Three car bombs went off in various parts of Baghdad, killing 46, and some 18 bodies were found with visible signs of torture. A day later, the killings continued as 30 more bodies were discovered throughout Baghdad. Eight more were fished from the Tigris. Nine heads of decapitated policemen were found in Tikrit, while 10 heads of unidentified victims in Baiji, 110 kilometres north of Baghdad were unearthed. Bombs killed 16 civilians as well as six policemen on that same day. Two Sunni women were killed and raped in the Hurriya district of the capital. Their families refused to retrieve their bodies from the authorities unless the government takes a serious step toward disarming the militia. Despite the horrors, the Al-Shorja market, the biggest in Baghdad, saw some brisk business, although most people were shopping in a hurry, hoping to go home before something bad happened. A few car bombs targeted that very market in the past few weeks. Umm Rim, a teacher and mother of three, whose university professor husband was abducted last March, says Ramadan has lost its taste. "We cannot enjoy the festivities anymore. There is a sad story in every house and blood on every wall." She paid the abductors a $30,000 ransom to free her husband but he never returned home and his body was never found. "Even in Ramadan, I still go regularly to the morgue to look at pictures of unidentified bodies, because my husband is still missing. My neighbour, Umm Mohamed, is a university professor and she too is still looking for her husband, also a university professor, who was abducted last February. She paid the abductors $50,000 and he is still missing," she said. "Blood is not sacred anymore. We fast and we pray to God Almighty to save Iraq and those Iraqis who have managed to survive so far." The start of this year's Ramadan also coincided with the first day of school. For a brief flash of a distant past, children could be seen carrying their school bags and walking in the streets, laughing. For them, the car bombs, explosive charges, and occupation vehicles are but a backdrop to an inexplicable reality. On the third day of the holy month, 41 unidentified bodies were found, and 12 civilians were killed in Baghdad alone. Because of the curfew, the inhabitants of Baghdad cannot enjoy their customary outings and the evening festivities of the month. At night, the streets seem deserted, fearsome, and sad. In one Baghdad district, residents were awakened to the beating drums of the musaharati -- one who traditionally walks the streets calling on Muslims to awaken in the pre-dawn hours to eat a light meal and drink. Perhaps, it was a crazed yet brave reminder of normal times. One could only wonder what kind of person had the courage to defy death for a bit of nostalgic sentimentality. Bleak Ramadan in Palestine Nearly 800 kilometres to the west of Baghdad, the holy month of Ramadan, usually considered a festive season of heightened spirituality and good will is this year marked by the spectre of poverty and unemployment in Palestine. Hebron resident Yousuf Suleiman, 30, has a family of eight but can hardly get things "under control" when it comes to securing the basic needs such as flour, sugar and rice. "I really don't know what to tell you. Would you believe me if I told you that last week we didn't have bread for three days?" said Suleiman, a school teacher, with a clearly subdued voice. Suleiman, like the rest of the estimated 170,000 Palestinian public employees and civil servants, has not received his salary for the seventh consecutive month due to the financial blockade imposed by Israel, the US and EU on the Hamas-led government. The government has made "advance payments" amounting to 50-60 per cent of the regular salaries. However, the meagre and irregular payments have not made much difference for most Palestinian families, especially during the month of Ramadan when family spending increases substantially. In ordinary circumstances, local zakat (alms) charity committees step in and provide Palestinian families who don't have the basic foods, such as flour and sugar with assistance. But this too is proving to be challenging in the face of the stifling economic and financial embargo. Samir Rabie a clerk at the local Zakat committee in Dura, 10 miles southwest of Hebron, told Al-Ahram Weekly that demands for basic foods were now greater than ever. "Now we have a lot of previously well-to-do people asking for assistance. This is not a natural situation, it is induced poverty imposed by the Americans and the Israelis for political reasons." He said the US, acting on Israel's behalf, had bullied the Gulf states, including Saudi Arabia, to prevent Muslim donors from sending their charity to the occupied territories. "And the rich Arab states prefer to heed America's demands rather than shield Palestinian children from the ghoul of starvation." Meanwhile, there are many Palestinian families who feel asking for food -- even from Zakat committees -- would be dishonourable. These, said Rabie, are suffering silently. "I personally know families that break their fast at the end of the day on bread and tea. It is these people who need particular attention." School officials in Palestine have also started to notice a drop in concentration and energy among students, symptoms which could indicate early signs of malnutrition. "Physically, the signs are not conspicuous, but we notice that many children can't concentrate or are absent-minded; this could be the result of children not having sufficient nutrition," said a Hebron school principal. He said schools couldn't do much about the problem other than writing reports to the Ministry of Education. In addition to the deteriorating state of health and nutrition in the West Bank and Gaza, recent Israeli military actions have killed many in recent weeks. On the fifth day of Ramadan, an Israeli tank fired an artillery shell at a northern Gaza home, killing two teenage brothers. The Israeli army claimed that "two terrorists" were killed. Israeli Chief of Staff Dan Halutz has promised no let up in Israeli military operations in occupied Palestine. Moreover, Israeli aerial strikes have destroyed the bulk of Gaza's civilian infrastructure, including schools, colleges, bridges, office buildings, and ordinary homes in addition to the only power station in Gaza, plunging the area into darkness. Local authorities in Gaza have sought desperately to partially solve the problem by importing electricity from Egypt and alternating electricity supplies to various localities, thus enabling Gazans to have a few hours of electricity every day. Lebanon revives after war But to the north, in a Lebanon just emerging from an Israeli invasion and near-constant aerial bombardment during the summer's 33-day war, many Muslims are trying to put a brave face this Ramadan. Although few Ramadan lanterns festoon the streets of Beirut's southern suburbs this year -- even the street lighting is patchy -- Samaya Faqir, hurrying home for Iftar laden with bags of fruit, said people were celebrating Ramadan just the same. "We're celebrating like other years, more even. We're at ease and happy because of the victory [over Israel]," she says. Abu Moustafa, a grocer near Hizbullah's destroyed compound in Haret Hreik agrees. "Ramadan is Ramadan, war or no war," he said, weighing vegetables for last-minute customers before sundown. Hizbullah leader Hassan Nasrallah smiled down from posters on the wall. "But war has given it its own flavour this year. It feels different, tinged with sadness but also victory and honour. Ramadan brings purity and happiness, but of course there are many people who are also suffering because they cannot stay in their homes." The United Nations says about 200,000 Lebanese remain displaced after a war that forced nearly a quarter of Lebanon's population of four million to flee their homes. As well as the destruction, the world body says, many cannot return home because of the threat posed by unexploded ordnance, particularly more than a million cluster bombs that Israel dropped over the south in the final days. Umm Hassan who left her home in Haret Hreik to stay with well-wishers in the mountains, says: "Not everyone is joyful because of the victory. I celebrate it, but I nonetheless wish the war hadn't happened, it was very hard," she says. "There's less joy and less decoration in the streets, because although we achieved victory, we also had many martyrs." And the state of the country's economy is not helping. Prices of vegetables and meat always rise during Ramadan, for the first week or so anyway, but many say this year's increases are worse and are coupled with post-war rises in public transport fares and other basics. The price of a lettuce, the main ingredient in the fattouch salad that graces every Lebanese Iftar table, has gone up six-fold. Crops in the south and the Bekaa were damaged, and grocers said fewer traders and importers were working as the battered economy, with $3.6 billion damages to infrastructure alone, creaked back into gear. Basta is one of central Beirut's most traditional neighbourhoods. With its crowded streets of vegetable markets, butcher shops, bakeries and other family-run shops, the mainly Muslim area resembles the down-at-heel streets of the city centre before they became the frontline of the 1975-1990 Civil War. Normally before Iftar, families would be rushing home laden down with shopping bags after a visit to the vegetable markets, restaurant owner Ali Jammal said. "But now we're coming out of the war, schools are opening, which is expensive for parents, and also Eid is coming. Everyone is just thinking about where all the money is going to come from," he said. Ramadan has thrown a lifeline to the pristine Downtown Beirut rebuilt by assassinated former Prime Minister Rafik Al-Hariri. When violence struck on 12 July, the tourists, mostly wealthy Persian Gulf Arabs, packed up and left, and with few ordinary shops or businesses of use to those left behind, the centre became a shuttered ghost town. But now, café manager Jihad Monzer says, the start of Ramadan, soon after Israel lifted its crippling blockade of Lebanon's sea and skies, coaxed customers from their homes. "People started to come back ... on the first night of Ramadan, we were up to half the usual number instead of 20 per cent," he said. At the wealthier end of the scale, Lebanese restaurants offering Iftar banquets to well- heeled customers have been packed every night, much like other years. Business eyes are also on Eid -- Beirut's plushest hotels expect thousands of Gulf tourists and are receiving bookings again. Although eight to 10 days of belated tourism will be more of a temporary injection for the economy than resuscitation -- the Tourism Ministry says the industry lost $2 billion this year -- it will raise hopes that next summer will be happier than this one. A sense of normalcy has returned to this resilient, battle-hardened city, but signs of war are never far away. Couples and families once again throng the cobbled streets to the central Place d'Etoile, where the clock tower remains covered in posters of children maimed or killed during the Israeli bombing that killed more than 1,200 Lebanese, a third of them children, according to the United Nations. With its growing commercialism for some, harsher economic realities for others, Ramadan this year highlights the wide gap between Lebanon's haves and have-nots, which the bombing of the poorer south and Bekaa regions can only have exacerbated. Reported by Nirmeen Al-Mufti in Baghdad, Khaled Amayreh in the West Bank and Lucy Fielder in Beirut
