Eid reflections: ‘Eid is like an unseen friend annually fostering brotherhood and reuniting the separated’

Asmaa Al Hameli reflects back on what Eid Al Adha means to her and how it influenced her growing up.

Asmaa Al Hameli is a features writer for The National. Mona Al Marzooqi / The National
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Our lives have been moving at such a fast pace that we barely have valuable time to spend with our loved ones. I’ve noticed that our communal life is also withering gradually. But there are special occasions – twice a year – that bring Muslim families across the globe the joy of togetherness and allow them to remember the good old days. Our much loved Eid Al Adha – the Festival of the Sacrifice – is visiting us again. Eid is like an unseen friend annually fostering brotherhood and reuniting the separated.

As I grow, the way I welcome Eid is changing. In my childhood, for example, the age of innocence, Eid was all about munching on chocolate day and night. Perhaps it was the only occasion where parents gave the green light to their children to go overboard with their chocolate obsessions. When I hit tween-age, Eid was the day of jackpot. On this day, most adult family members would give you a sum of money. But my favourite auntie – my mum’s friend – always gave me a red note (Dh100), wrapped in a decorative pouch. I felt like a millionaire when I received the money. Deep down, I wished every day was Eid, so I could accumulate more and more money.

In my teens, I had more appreciation for Eid, and began to grasp the holiness of the day. Every Eid, the whole family gathered in my house, seeing new faces and catching up with other’s affairs. I realised how much a single visit opened the door to reconnect and strengthen kinship with family. Even though the family unity only lasts for a few hours, it creates a storehouse of joyful memories.

One of my funniest memories of Eid is wearing a long, flashy orange cloak and rejoicing about its colour. When my cousin saw me in that dress, her immediate reaction was: “Wow, you look Sri Lankan in this colour. Your taste never ceases to amaze me.”

The tradition of receiving Eid money comes to an end when you’re working. So now I’m working, instead of taking, I give Eid money (“Eidiya”) to the children in our family. Once upon a time, Eid was my day of jackpot; today, financially, it’s the day of my bankruptcy. Children aren’t very fond of green or blue notes (Dh10 or Dh20); most ask for the red one, even if they don’t know its market value.

Both Eids are dear to my heart. Eid Al Fitr marks the end of fasting, while Eid Al Adha marks the end of Haj. The meaning of Eid suggests a festival that’s repeated every year. Next year, my mother plans to perform the pilgrimage, and I, too, plan to join her. I hope to have the privilege to celebrate the greatest festival in the Holy Land of Mecca.​

aalhameli@thenational.ae