Last year was my first Ramadan in Istanbul. The month began a few weeks after my arrival. One morning, as I was preparing sehri, I heard something loud — something familiar — something that sounded a lot like the dhol (drum) I had grown up hearing at sehri time.
I thought I was so sleepy that I was imagining stuff. But when I heard the same sound the next day, I rushed to the balcony to see what it was. There, on the street, stood a man beating a drum slung across his chest. After every few beats, he would say something loudly.
Zeynep Çonkar, an Istanbul-based journalist I spoke to for this article on Ramadan traditions in Türkiye, told me that sehri drummers are a common tradition in the country — just as they are in Pakistan — dating back to the Ottoman era.
Another similarity was the drummer showing up at our door at the end of the month to ask for ‘bakhshish’ (an honorarium) for his services. This was just one of the many ways in which Ramadan — called the Sultan of all months in Türkiye — is celebrated similarly in both countries.
Keeping traditions alive
For a large majority of the Turkish people, Ramadan is a time to reconnect with their country’s glorious past when it led the Muslim world as a caliphate. Therefore, there are many aspects of this holy month that honour past practices. The oldest way to mark the beginning of the month is the cannon-firing ceremony.
On the lawns between the Hagia Sophia and the Blue Mosque, there is an awe-inspiring show on the first day of Ramadan. An hour or so before the Maghrib prayer, the Mehter band, the oldest living military band in the world by some estimates, plays marching songs in the middle of the Sultanahmet Square — perhaps the most visited tourist destination in Istanbul.
Donned in bright-red Ottoman-era uniforms, the band plays one stirring anthem after another, attracting large crowds. Their act is followed by the recitation of the Quran, usually by the Imam of the Hagia Sophia Mosque. As soon as the muezzin of the same mosque says the first words of the Maghrib azaan (call to prayer), cannons are fired to mark the end of the fast.
Fasting and feasting
The Square, which on other days looks rather quiet in the evening, bustles with activity in Ramadan at the same time. Families turn their iftar meals into a picnic; they spread rugs in the gardens of the Square and break their fast against the majestic background of the Hagia Sophia and the Blue Mosque.
They share food with the families sitting close to them. After the iftar, they head to the Mosque to say their prayers. Many stay back for the Tarawih prayer, and while the adults wait, the children make the most of the open grounds to play games or just run around. On some days, free iftar meals are distributed by the local government or other organisations.
All in a mosque’s courtyard
An interesting aspect of Ramadan in Türkiye is the role of mosques. All major mosques are beautifully decorated with fairy lights and mahya displays — a unique illumination technique used since the Ottoman era, where messages are written using small lights and strung across the minarets of the mosque. This creates the impression of illuminated words floating in the air.
While there is an increase in religious activities, such as Tarawih prayers, Quran lessons, lectures, and sohbet — informal discussions between the imam and mosque attendees on a wide range of topics — the courtyards of many mosques transform into lively Ramadan fêtes, especially after the Tarawih prayer, with stalls serving tea, candies, and other delicacies for free.
The Tarawih prayer is considered quite important in the country. When I first contacted Çonkar for this article, we decided to talk in the evening. She later texted me to say that since Ramadan was starting the next day, she had to go to the mosque for the first Tarawih prayer. When we spoke the next day, she told me that it was quite common for women to go to the mosque to offer their Tarawihs.
Even those who don’t pray regularly throughout the rest of the year make it a point to offer Tarawih. And it’s the same for both men and women. “Going to the mosque for Tarawih becomes more of a social activity, especially for the elderly, as the trip offers them an opportunity to meet their neighbours and peers all in one place,” she said.
I had heard so much about the role of mosques during Ramadan that I decided to visit one and see the goings-on for myself.
An hour before the Maghrib azaan, as I sat on a raised platform surrounding the courtyard of the Valid-e-Cedid Camii — an over 300-year-old mosque located on the Asian side of Istanbul — I saw people (along with cats and seagulls) of all hues roaming around. Young girls took selfies against the backdrop of the mosque. There was a photo booth cut-out of some Turkish folk characters — a favourite, especially with, but not limited to, children.
A couple holding coffee cups and bags, which presumably had food in them, pulled out plastic chairs and sat in a corner. Nobody was trying to check their nikahnama (marriage certificate). A group of friends hung around the courtyard, laughing, taking pictures, and making soap bubbles. Someone fed a seagull that was just strutting around. Men and women walked through the courtyard holding hands. No one’s religious sentiments were hurt.
While the majority of women had their heads covered, some didn’t (although it is obligatory in the main prayer hall). Nobody batted an eye; no one cried that it was disrespectful.
In the secluded prayer area for women, some were offering namaz, while others sat quietly. A young woman who had just finished her namaz removed her prayer clothes (Turkish women often wear a long skirt or a loose garment over their clothes if they feel they aren’t dressed adequately for namaz, even if they are fully covered), revealing a finely tailored power suit and long, brown curly hair. She stuffed her prayer garments into her shoulder bag, fixed her hair, and left. Her complete transformation didn’t draw any judgmental stares.
Outside in the courtyard, groups of women carried shopping bags. As iftar time approached, they began rolling out carpets stored in boxes at all corners of the raised platform. Once that was done, each group took out food items from their shopping bags and waited for the azaan to break their fast.
With the exception of one or two men who were there with their families, it was an iftar gathering of just women, enjoying their time in the mosque courtyard. I asked a group of young girls — all university students — if this was a common practice. “In this particular mosque, it happens every year during Ramadan,” one of them told me, while another added, “You should stay back for the festivities after the Tarawih prayer.”
Unfortunately, I couldn’t. As I was leaving, men had started entering the courtyard from all three gates to head to the main hall for the Maghrib prayer. Meanwhile, the women chatted as they leisurely finished their iftar.
For the love of food
In Türkiye, as in Pakistan, Ramadan is a time to bond with family and loved ones over the iftar sofrasi (table or spread). The essential iftar (and suhoor) food in Türkiye is the Ramadan pide (pronounced piday) — a soft, fluffy round flatbread with a patterned top, sprinkled with sesame and nigella seeds. To my Pakistani mind, it seems like a cross between taftan and focaccia bread.
“While it is consumed throughout the year, a Ramadan spread is unimaginable without pide on it,” Çonkar told me. Its popularity is evident from the long queues that begin to form outside bakeries before iftar — a sight we Pakistanis are quite familiar with outside shops selling our own iftar staples: pakoras, samosas, rolls, and more.
Another essential Ramadan food is soup, or çorba, as the Turkish call it. “A typical Turkish meal consists of three components: çorba, a main dish—usually with meat—and a dessert. This applies to Ramadan as well; there is always a çorba on the menu,” the journalist explained. While a variety of soups are enjoyed, merçimek (red lentil soup) is arguably the most popular.
When it comes to drinks, the Turkish have many flavourful options, such as tamarind sherbet and rosewater sherbet, but their equivalent of our Rooh Afza is Ottoman şerbet — a drink made from fruits and spices. The Ramadan-special dessert is güllaç, a sweet dish that dates back to the Ottoman era. And of course, no meal is complete without a non-stop supply of tea!
Some night-time fun
In Pakistan, night cricket matches are a popular recreational activity during Ramadan. In Türkiye, a different yet equally popular source of nighttime entertainment are shadow puppet performances featuring two main characters, Karagöz and Hacivat. These shows entertain audiences — mostly children, but also adults who enjoy the witty banter. Think of them as somewhat similar to the comic characters — Allan and Nanha — from the famous PTV show Alif Noon. These performances, which trace their roots back to the Ottoman era, are a Ramadan tradition.
The similarities between how Ramadan is celebrated in Pakistan and Türkiye are many. Traffic jams on major roads as iftar time approaches, shouting matches between drivers, and long queues outside food outlets are all familiar scenes in both countries. But the differences are stark as well. In Türkiye, all restaurants and bars remain open during the day. Those who fast and those who don’t coexist without friction. Fasting in Türkiye is akin to feasting — it is a time for people to come together and bond over slices of pide dipped in a steaming bowl of merçimek çorba. It is also a time for them to reclaim Islamic rituals that were denied to them for decades.
The Turkish people are unique in that they ruled the Islamic world for nearly 600 years as a caliphate, yet later underwent a radical transformation when religious expression was vigorously discouraged. And yet, they persevered. Today, those who wish to embrace their religious identity do so with pride, while those who are not religious assert their choice unapologetically. Though tensions arise now and then, both groups coexist in a country that remains constitutionally secular.
For an outsider like myself, coming from a society where people are penalised for eating in public during Ramadan, it was both unusual and extraordinary to witness people climbing the mosque stairs as the sound of the Asr azaan rang through the air — while restaurants, right in the shadow of the same mosque, continued to serve their customers.
Javeria Shakil-Kazim is a freelance journalist based in Istanbul. She has previously worked as an academic, teaching journalism-related courses at the undergrad level.
Header and thumbnail illustration by Geo.tv