The Fortieth

 

I went to a fortieth today. my mum's brother's wife's sister's husband died forty days ago, so it was his fortieth. It was a large gathering of family and friends and by the looks of it lots of passer-by's who were interested in the free grub. It was a mixed gathering of Shia and Sunni but segregated too, women inside and men out in the street.

Persian carpets stretched out across the road with a narrow strip of cotton cloth in the middle travelling the length of the carpet, on which the food would be placed. A canopy had been erected above the carpets to protect people from the glare of the late afternoon sun.

Before the food there was a Shia cleric who would lead the prayers for the dead and give a sermon. It was about the importance of prayer and as is usually the case with Shia clerics, he brought the talk round to the matyrdom of Imam Hussain and his voice broke a few times. Then the prayers. Fruit was brought out and words from the Quran were recited over them.

As the time for breaking the fast drew near, it was the month of Ramadan, large trays of fruit were placed before a long line of seated people who flanked both sides of the white cotton cloth. There was a tray in front of me and a minute before the call to prayer someone asked for some fruit. The tray was lifted. It was filled with dates, bunches of bananas and sliced segments of apples and peaches. As it started moving away from me people began grabbing for the fruit like frenzied monkeys. I reached for a date and decided to settle for that. The man sitting next to me had about 8 bananas in his plate. I didn't even have a plate. I looked around and noticed how some people had piles of fruit while others had none. I was amazed at the time but realised later that these were the people who had come off the streets.

As the call to prayer rang out I had my date and then reached out for a banana from the man with all the bananas on my right. He didn't object. I noticed the boy on my left wasn't eating. It was a mixed gathering and the Shia's break their fast 10 minutes later than the Sunnis. Don't ask me why because I have no idea. Ten minutes later he and the other Shia's broke their fast. A man came round and distributed the naan, placing them on a plate between the diners. The man to my right had finished his bananas and he grabbed 3 of the seven naans in front of him. Someone opposite me grabbed another 3 and someone else went for the last one. I looked on in wonder at these antics. I mean, it wasn't as if they were going to run out of naans or anything else for that matter. There was an old man directly opposite me who was dismayed at the disappearance of the naans. He managed to get one of the three naans from the man sitting next to him and then proceeded to fold it up and hide it in his clothing. He then asked for another naan from a passing waiter, and placed it on his plate with great reverence.

When the bowls of chicken curry arrived the old man was very animated, calling for a bowl to be placed before him but to his consternation one was placed a few people to his right and another a few people to his left. He was about to complain loudly when a bowl piled higher than the others was passed to him and he joyfully began piling his plate with large chunks of curried chicken. I was too busy watching him to realise that everyone else was helping themselves too. When a bowl was eventually passed to me there was a small piece of chicken neck swimming in a curry sauce. I made a start on that hoping they wouldn't be long with the refills. But when they came they were quickly dispatched too. I waited until things settled down and reached for a vacant bowl and helped myself to a chicken wing. All through the meal I watched the old man opposite me and wondered where he was putting his food. I helped myself to one of my neighbour's naans. He did have 3 after all. I noticed he has acquired another 3 from somewhere and was using them to work his way through a pile of chicken. How could these people eat so much?

And then the sweet rice arrived. People were still on their first course so it sat for a while but I did notice the old man eyeing it from time to time. He had finished off his naan and he was now busy separating the bones from the meat of his remaining chicken pieces. He then reached for the tray of sweet rice and scooped a mountain of rice on top of the chicken. After that I just couldn't look.