Marruecos comienza su Ramadán más íntimo y difícil

"Ramadan is going to be extraordinary this year in every way," says Rachid Rhmani, a 40-year-old businessman who assists Atalayar from his home in Temara, outside Rabat, where he lives with his wife and three young daughters. All 36 million Moroccans are preparing to experience one of the harshest and most atypical Ramadan seasons. After the state of health emergency was extended almost a week ago due to the coronavirus - and with it a series of harsh restrictions such as general confinement - until 20 May, the holy month of the Muslims will almost entirely overlap with it. Few believe, however, that the harsh measures taken to try to contain the VID-19 epidemic will not be extended again at least until the end of May.

In an effort to prevent the festive atmosphere from contributing to a relaxation of the containment measures, the Moroccan authorities have decreed a curfew from seven in the evening to five in the morning every day this year. That is to say, practically during the period between sunset and sunrise the following day - when the faithful can finally break their fast - it will not be possible to leave the house, either by car or on foot. "The special family atmosphere of Ramadan will be completely different this year because of the health crisis," explains Rhmani.
 

The health crisis due to the coronavirus will make a month of spirituality and reflection even more introspective. "We've lost a lot this year, with collective prayer and mosques closed. I'm going to pray at home and cook for the family these days; I don't have a job and I'm going to work helping out at home," laments young rabbi Karima Fasiki from the El Manal neighbourhood of the Moroccan capital. "I have a good number of readings prepared, many of them of religious content, starting with the Koran, for these days. I've lost my job, I've just enrolled in a doctorate, and I'm going to take advantage of it to read," Khalid Louadj, a native of the southern city of Demnate and resident of Rabat, told this publication. "The situation will encourage prayer and charity, although many things will be lacking," Rhmani admits. Sadness is in the air. 

Ramadan is not usually the most economically productive month of the year in Morocco. On the other hand, it is a month of high expenditure for households (many of which were indebted to micro-credits to meet this month's purchases). The rigours of fasting leave businesses and offices half empty. The holy month arrives in this 2020 in the midst of an unexpected crisis that is just starting because of the viral pandemic. Predictions speak of a drop in GDP of just under 4% for this year. The severity is both macro and micro. Uncertainty and concern are the backdrop of the holy month. 
 

Usually, the nights of Ramadan are a feast of life and a celebration in Moroccan kitchens. Every evening at sunset, Moroccans celebrate the ftor as a family, where there's never a shortage of milk, dates, harira - a typical Moroccan vegetable soup - milkshakes and juices, hard-boiled eggs or chicken-filled pasties. Afterwards, we have a big dinner, with fish and meat tayines or other specialties from these Maghribian lands. As a result, the eve of the beginning of the sacred month is usually a frenzied day of shopping for foodstuffs, with freshly made sweets presiding over the displays in the shops. 

This year, however, the restrictive measures and the economic rigours have made the situation different. "We're going to cook everything ourselves at home, when we used to buy sweets on the street, like shebakia [a kind of pastry]. Now we are afraid to be around other people in shopping lines because of the contagion, so only one person at home, in this case my grandfather, goes out and buys everything at once. The shops are closed by 6 p.m.," he tells Atalayar Soukaina Benmouma, who lives with his mother and grandparents, as well as an uncle and aunt, in the coastal town of Kenitra. With sadness, Benmouna, who has returned home after the end of her university classes, says that her grandfather will not be able to attend prayers at the mosque every evening at sunset. 

The authorities fear, however, that the confinement situation will be relaxed in popular neighbourhoods and the old medinas. "Here in the medina of Fez live people from poorer backgrounds and are perhaps less aware of the seriousness of the health situation. It remains to be seen how the night-time confinement will be carried out. There are young boys usually on the streets at night these days. We will see if there will be any police", a Spanish woman living in the old part of the Moroccan city informs Atalayar. 
 

Families whose income comes from underground activities are having a particularly hard time in Morocco these weeks, and it's going to be like that all through Ramadan. Several million people who were living practically on a day-to-day basis have stopped earning an income. The State is helping with a monthly contribution per household of around 100 euros, with which hundreds of thousands of families will try to weather the storm. These days, there are many charitable initiatives on social networks to raise funds for the most vulnerable groups. 

The closing of borders decreed in Morocco on 13 March to try and prevent the pandemic from getting out of control is causing many people in the neighbouring country to experience an unusual Ramadan. Around 20,000 Moroccans stranded in different countries - especially in Europe - will have to live in confinement this sacred month far from their own. Also, several hundred Moroccan dual nationals - who share nationality mainly with other EU countries - who were counting on returning to their countries of residence have seen their plans changed significantly by the pandemic. This is the case of Imane Ibourk, a French-Moroccan dual-national, and one of the hundreds of people affected by the measure. The young woman, with one child, was supposed to return to Paris more than a month ago, but general confinement caught up with her in Rabat, where she had travelled with her mother to visit other relatives. "We are separated. My mother, my son and I are here in Morocco and a sister in another Moroccan city and my other brother in Paris," Ibourk told the magazine, who has been absent from work in France for more than a month.
 

"Ramadan is going to be very complicated this year. Stuck and confined, we feel sad and depressed. It's going to be a Ramadan that's perhaps more spiritual, but without flavour," confesses Ibourk. But the Moroccan people haven't lost their optimism. "Many people are going to have a hard time these days, but I hope that by the end of Ramadan things will improve, the health situation will be completely under control, here and around the world, and we'll gradually return to normal," says a hopeful Khalid Louadj.