By Kadhem al-Attabi

Baghdad, Sep 26 (DPA) With bombings, curfews and checkpoints all around them, Baghdad's residents can only remember the spirit with which they once used to celebrate Ramadan.

Rituals and festivities have all been toned down amid the ongoing violence and security measures plaguing the city.

And the lack of security is only one concern. The lack of money is another one, and - most painfully - the lack of guests to share one's meal with.

Families in Baghdad used to be able to afford iftar, the hearty fast-breaking Ramadan meal, for which Baghdadis say they used to be famed.

"The Ramadan meal was famous in Baghdad, it was rich and unique, having all types of food. Kebbah meat, Kebab, soup ..." says Amal Selim, a 47-year-old working woman.

Now, three years after the war on Iraq and amid on-going violence, the Ramadan meal has become more modest, and with less family huddled around the evening table.

"Now it pains me even to stand in the kitchen and prepare an iftar for a table that many family and friends are missing from," says Selim.

The colourful city lights have also gone out, making the Ramadan evenings gloomy and dark. Children no longer roam the city's streets with their traditional coloured lanterns, singing through the night.

After the iftar meal, people used to walk in groups to a mosque for the Tarawih prayers - the "prayers of comfort" - or to listen to a religious sermon.

Night banquets would be prepared, where Arabian sweets, delicacies and cold drinks were laid on carpets near shrines in the centre of the now faded Baghdad.

People used to sit chatting away till dawn near the holy shrines in al-Kazemiya, al-Azmeiya and Bab-el-Sheikh.

People now choose to stay at home.

"We used to visit our family and friends in other districts all the time," says Suheir Mohammed, 35, a teacher. "We miss this spirit under the occupation, this year especially."

Young Baghdadis from different neighbourhoods used to hold friendly matches, playing the popular Iraqi night-racing game "al-Meheibes" all through Ramadan.

In the game, a player would be named king by the end of the month, and crowds from different streets and districts in Baghdad - both Shia and Sunni - would come and watch the crowning of the hero.

All these pictures have faded. "Many loved ones and friends have died in either attacks or bomb explosions," says 28-year-old Ali Abdel-Hassan.

The fighting and explosions in Iraq have drowned out even the voice of the Mesaharaty, the night caller who used to pass through alleys and by the houses, drum in hand, to call on people to wake up for the last "Sohour" meal before dawn.

The harsh security restrictions and the curfew imposed by the Iraqi government have also broken age-old traditions. Families now stay at home, watching entertainment shows and serials on television, with the sound of occasional explosions in the background.

The rituals of Ramadan have disappeared, it seems, but not the sounds of Iraqis who pray to god for the country to be united and secure.