Indelible memories of Ramadan in Damascus

Syrian actor Abbas Al-Nouri plays a scene during the filming of the Syrian Social series 'Maa Qaid Al-Tanfith' in Damascus. AFP

Ramadan for me is as much about food, family and customs as it is about fasting, worship and compassion. And having grown up in Damascus, I feel particularly nostalgic about the holy month.

I still remember, for instance, the shift in tempo in the moments before iftar every single day. People would rush home to end the fast or queue up in front of food stalls to pick up whatever they needed for dinner. The food was always great, too. Foul and fatteh, traditional Damascene dishes usually eaten for breakfast on weekends, were a must during iftar. I can never forget the taste of fresh lemon juice and jallab syrup (essentially made of grape molasses and rose water) filled with raw almonds from Abou Hassan's shop, or for that matter the crispiness of naem bread (fried bread like poppadom) covered in date syrup. The list of Ramadan sweets we relished is long.

Once the canon was fired and the call to prayer made, there would be complete silence across the city. All one could hear, if indoors, was the quiet clanking of dishes and utensils before families eventually gathered at the dinner table. Those were the days when people preferred ending their fast at home rather than going to a restaurant, as many do now.

Another feature of the holy month was watching Ramadan-specific television programmes.

We used to watch Fawazeer Ramadan, an Egyptian riddle show presented by prominent actors and entertainers such as the glamorous Nelly, followed by Sherihan, who occupied Arab screens and hearts for years. I vividly remember one season when we had to figure out the name of a country in each episode. As a child, it felt as if I was actually in the city or country that the programme showcased on that day.

The evening TV series, mostly produced by Egyptian producers, were hugely popular as well. Layali Al Helmiyeh or Al Helmeya Nights is an all-too-familiar example to every Arab household of a certain vintage. There were various adaptations of novels by the late Noble Prize winner Naguib Mahfouz, such as Between Two Palaces. Evidently we were greatly influenced by Egyptian dramas and movies, as generations of Arabs have. The storytelling and visual direction were of a different quality and reflected Egypt's largely liberal social norms prevalent at the time.

A still from Fawazeer Ramadan. YouTube

• 

  Ibrahim Al Hajjaj and Khaled Al Farrag in 'Minho Waladna?' Photo: MBC

• 

  Amr Saad in 'Tooba', a psychological drama. Photo: MBC

• 

  Saudi comedy 'Studio 22' is about the employees of a struggling television station. Photo: MBC

• 

  Nasser Al Qasabi in 'Al Asouf 3', about the family and social character of Saudi Arabia in the 1970s. Photo: MBC

• 

  Kuwaiti drama 'Min Share’ Al Haram Ela… ' is set in Cairo and features an ensemble cast. Photo: MBC

Then came Syrian dramas, which gradually took off in the 1980s before actually competing with Egyptian material by the late 1990s and early noughties. These dramas exposed a number of talented Syrian writers, directors and artists to a curious Arab audience as well as funders. Satellite channels and Gulf television stations deserve much credit for the distribution and broadcasting of this content.

It is hardly surprising that the Four Seasons series, featuring the lives of middle-class Syrian families, comes to mind because we could relate to the ups and downs that these characters faced in their daily lives. The series was written by Reem Hanna and directed by the late Hatem Ali who went on to direct popular TV series such as The Palestinian Rhythm, Rabee Qortoba and Al Zeer Salem.

These series created such an impression on their audiences, including myself, that we would begin anticipating the following season's content and even speculate about the star cast.

Things have changed drastically since those golden years.

There are so many Ramadan shows on the many television and web channels today, yet the quality can be found wanting. It seems to me that these channels are focussed more on mass-producing content than telling good stories well. There may be a lot of money riding on these programmes, but very little has caught my attention.

Censorship in parts of the region seems to be another problem, with fewer freedoms granted to filmmakers to produce content that the state in a particular country might deem too controversial or running counter to the narratives that state is trying to promote through its media channels.

There is still good content out there, and there are producers and filmmakers who care deeply about telling good stories that would stimulate audiences in positive ways. But to my mind, they are few and far between. And so, among the many things I miss about Ramadan from my childhood are those annual television series that I used to watch with my loved ones and anticipated watching the following year.