Chapter XV: Religious Observances

Apart from the daily prayers there are various feasts which are celebrated regularly by all good Mohammedans. They do not come at regular dates as, owing to the fact that the Moslem year is lunar, all the months begin ten days earlier each year.

In order of rotation these feasts are as follows: Race el Ame, new year; Aschana, the tenth day of the first month, sometimes known as the Feast of Moses; those who observe it are promised ten times of all they have; Makante, or Mouloud, the birth of Mohammed; Aïd Serrir, which is celebrated at the end of Ramadan or Mohammedan Lent, and the Aïd el Kebir. The most important are the Aïd Serrir, or Lesser Feast, in opposition to Aïd el Kebir, the Greater Feast or Feast of the Sheep. As a matter of fact the Aïd Serrir causes more rejoicing and lasts three days, probably because it succeeds the Ramadan.

The austerity of this Ramadan fast has given cause to much controversy; it is not for us to discuss its merits, but until one has seen the people actually observing the rites it is difficult to realize how strictly they are kept. The Ramadan starts the day after the _mufti_ or _kadi_ in some definite center has seen the new moon of the season with the naked eye, or, in the event of a cloudy evening, on the report of some trustworthy person in some other place. Far away in the South the local _muftis_ or _kadis_ are permitted to judge the moment for themselves, but generally speaking the fast starts at the same time all over Algeria.

It ends as soon as the next new moon is visible, and sometimes, owing to bad weather, the inhabitants of a town may fast one or two days longer than people who live where the night has been clear. From the moment the decree is sent abroad that the Ramadan has begun all believers must observe the fast for thirty consecutive days. During this period they must neither eat nor drink nor smoke from two hours before the dawn until after sunset.

The time-table on the opposite page published for the Ramadan of 1926, which took place in April, gives some idea of the length of time passed without nourishment or water:

The decisive moment of the evening is that at which the _imam_ can no longer distinguish a white hair from a black, held at arm’s length. A gun is then fired, cries of joy rise from the populace, and the first meal is hungrily attacked. Those who are out on the plain pull out a few dates which they munch until they get home. From the firing of the gun they can eat and drink as much water or milk as they like until two hours before dawn. As a general rule they begin with a big dinner. Then they rest, after which they go out and visit their friends or walk about the streets till midnight, when they return home and have a second big meal followed by bed. At first sight this penitence may not seem rigorous. Perhaps not for those rich men who can convert the night into the day; but to the average worker it is a terrible ordeal.

Fifteen hours or so with nothing to eat and nothing to drink! This last privation is especially trying when the Ramadan falls in the summer months and when consequently the period of fasting is longer.

What is most astonishing is to see how strictly the rules are observed, and even those who in ordinary times take wines and spirits are not only completely sober for thirty days, but do not touch any intoxicant for some weeks before the fast begins. Some men suffer physically a good deal and their faces become pinched; others who are heavy smokers develop jumpy nerves. Almost all become bad tempered and easily offended and they work as little as possible, their only incentive to do anything being the necessity to have liquid cash to purchase their new clothes for the feast of the last day. Even this does not rouse them much, and they usually end by selling some of their household goods or their wives’ jewels to supply the necessary funds. It is a great time for the Jews and rich Arab merchants, who buy up all they can at low prices to resell to the tourists.

If by any chance the fast is not observed according to letter it does not count, and it must be caught up after the Ramadan. For instance, during this period a man may not touch his wife; if he sees a woman and she creates in his mind any sort of emotion, it is sufficient for the day’s fast to be considered as unaccomplished. If he touches the palm of a woman’s hand, he can not go to the mosque until he has washed all over. All is a matter of conscience, and it would be quite easy for any one to retire to the privacy of his room and eat a piece of bread or drink some water; no one would be any the wiser, but it is a certain fact that it is not done. Those few who do not observe the fast are thoroughly despised.

When the next new moon has been observed a final gun is fired and the people rise early in the morning dressed in their new clothes to go to the mosque. The Grande Prière takes place in all its solemnity, and for an hour robed figures bow and prostrate themselves in regular cadence. When it is over every one streams into the street and hand in hand marches leisurely up and down the main ways. As friends or relations meet the brotherly kiss is exchanged; jokes are passed and gaiety reigns supreme.

The girls from the Quarter come out in all the gaudiness of their multi-colored clothes; their jewels glint in the sunlight contrasting with the white burnouses of the men.

At eleven the _muezzin_ calls to prayer from the minaret; the more conscientious return to the mosque before the first midday meal since the Ramadan moon.

The poorest household has scraped together enough to have something extra to eat, and among the rich the meal is interminable. In the afternoon every one is out again wandering hand in hand through gardens and alleys, or sitting under the palm trees chatting and smoking—chiefly smoking. Toward dusk the city takes on another aspect. In the reserved quarter the streets are thronged with soldiers and nomads; the strident skirl of the _raïta_ with the beat of the _tam-tam_, and the dances, which have practically ceased during the fast, rebegin. It is a gay spectacle, and it makes one realize the joys of forbidden fruits.

In the European quarter too the younger renegades are flocking, consuming excessive quantities of forbidden wine and beer. As the night draws on, voices are raised, some in laughter, some in song, others in anger, and it is rare for the feast to pass without several nasty knife wounds, while broken heads are numerous. After all, the fast has lasted long enough, the Ramadan must be celebrated, and he who can not contain his emotions must suffer the quick flash of the dagger or the clenched fist of the followers of the Prophet liberated from the fast.

The Aïd el Kebir, which is the great feast of the year, falls two months later. On this day every one who can afford it is supposed to kill a sheep and divide it among the family. Those who are very rich kill several sheep and give them to those who can not afford it. The belief is that when the soul goes to enter paradise it will have to follow a narrow path which consists of a razor-like blade. The soul whose mortal self has killed many sheep will be met by the slaughtered ones, who apparently have no thought of reprisals, and will be carried across the knives. The gratitude of the sheep seems a little unexpected.

The other feasts, such as the Birth of the Prophet, New Year’s Day, the Aschana, are not observed with any great feasting. Candles are lit in the mosques, the Grande Prière is said collectively, and a little more food than usual is eaten.

Quite apart from the orthodox or dissenting religious observances associated with the mosque, there are other rites, which are really private affairs, observed by independent groups of men who venerate some particular saint. They are really little clubs, and though all its members are strict Mohammedans belonging to one of the sects, believing in all the prophets, they are very proud of the particular saint whom they venerate.

There are the followers of Sidi Abd-el-Kader, the great _marabout_, second only to the Prophet; of Sidi-el-Hadj-Aïssa, who founded Laghouat; of Sidi Abd er Rahmane, patron of Algiers, and many others. Twice a week these members of the clubs meet, either in the private mosque dedicated to the _marabout_, or, if it is fine, before the edifice erected in his name out-of-doors. Here they drink tea, which is either provided by themselves or is often sent by people of the town who wish to find grace in the eyes of the saint.

The men sit round in a circle and sing religious songs in unison while the time is kept by a man with a tambourine. On a clear moonlight night it is a most impressive sight to see the earnest faces of the singers as they sit rigidly intoning the long verses of the chant, which is repeated in a chorus, rising finally into a wild rhythm until it stops suddenly and unexpectedly. Visitors are rare on these evenings, and they sit apart with their shoes off; women occasionally come, but they are heavily veiled and are hidden away in a corner.

The actual tombs of _marabouts_ are much venerated, as are also the little domes erected at places where some holy man has rested; candles are lit and offerings made in their names. Though actual sacrificing of beasts does not take place in the way in which we associate it in the Old Testament, there are many who vow that if they are granted some favor they will kill a sheep in the name of the _marabout_ invoked. When the sheep is killed it is cooked and eaten by the supplicant and by any poor friends who like to come in. Occasionally a bullock is slaughtered to bring rain.

There are other beliefs which would be considered by Europeans to be mere superstitions, but they so form part of the religion that practically every one admits them,—the power of spells, the evil eye, the charms against disease. A woman with a headache will wear a piece of paper with words written by a _marabout_ upon it, and believe that it will remove the pain. In fact, into all the daily life religion is woven until it becomes part of the people’s existence, and from the prayer said in public to the abstinence from wine one can not keep away from it. Its simplicity, its absence of all unnecessary intermediaries in communion with the Almighty, make it very easy to follow. Its laws which, with all their sternness, are yet adapted to the frailty of mankind, seem to give one an assurance of its sincerity. Its recognition of all the prophets we know of gives it a feeling of broad-mindedness, and the picture of its future is easy to grasp.

There is one God and He is alone. God is all-powerful. “What He has destined will take place,” and in their belief of the _mektoub_ the secret of the Arabs’ peace of mind is found. Nothing can alter fate. And if things go wrong it is no good saying, “If I had done this, or done that, I should have avoided this.” No; “Allah willed it, and the puny human can do nothing against _mektoub_.”