It’s Qaranqao Tonight
Here is a piece of local trivia that I a trust will amuse and confuse you. There is a tendency in the local cultures of the Arab Peninsula, one that often requires some mind processing and clarifications, especially during conversation and when setting appointments. Here it is: when referring to a specific night, a speaker will often state the day of the week (or the date) that comes right after that which they actually mean. Huh?
For example, Thursday night will often be referred to as “The night of the Friday”, and an appointment set for the evening of the 4th of September will often be stated as “The night of the 5th”. Accordingly, within the context of this confounding habit, the Qaranqao coincides with the “The night of the 15th”, aka the 14th of Ramadan, PM.
The Qaranqao itself is viewed as a momentous event in the Peninsula, where children are the heart of the day – the middle of the Hijri month – as they go from house to house singing, laughing and receiving all the attention, and all the candy they can get their little grabby hands on. It’s a tradition that has passed from generation to generation. What had started yesterday as a simple affair, has become an event today that is often blown out of proportion, as many are found preparing for this now pompous occasion weeks in advance. Parties are thrown, as adults have become their center audiences, and children have become their poor props. An event that has long been theirs is now an excuse to flaunt a party and squeeze in some boasting time.
Mid Ramadan, 1412 A.H.
Qaranqao. I remember it as a simple yet exciting day; after sundown, we little ones would chant our song in fairly large groups of boys and girls, walking along neighborhood roads and alleys that were mostly unpaved, and without a doubt, dusty, dark and silent, yet completely safe. Each of us hauling our heavy, fabric tote bags laden with identical treasures: nuts, tiny plastic cups filled with colorful jellies, colored candied almonds, caramel and coffee flavored toffees.
Dressed in our simple, unpretentious clothes – boys in thobs and girls in a colorful, sequined nashel (national dress) and embroidered in a delicate and cheap golden thread – we had the most exciting of times singing our hearts out into the night air, under a full moon.
“Qaranqao Qerqao
Give us may Allah give you
And taking you to the house of Mecca
Oh Mecca, oh inhabited place
Oh Nora, the mother of chains and gold”
Admittedly it sounds like a beggars’ chorus.
Now that I think about it, it was maddening the way we would knock on neighbors’ doors, open sesame, and our eyes would light up, shoving each other and tripping, as we attacked to get to that huge, stainless steel pot of piled treasure.
“No no no, line up over there… Yes, now sing us The Song first!”. And taking it from the top…
“Qaranqao Qerqao
Give us may Allah give you
And taking you to the house of Mecca
Oh Mecca, oh inhabited place
Oh Nora, the mother of chains and golds!”
I never found out who Nora was. And who knows where this glitzy occasion derives its historic roots from?
I wonder…..
The Brira File 