Celebrating Eid al-Adha

As the scent of Bakhoor (incense) curls through the air and the early morning sky begins to lighten, Eid al-Adha awakens something deeper than festivity in me. It is a moment suspended between sacred memory and lived tradition. It is a time when centuries of devotion echo through the simple act of gathering, giving and remembering. As a student immersed in Islamic heritage, I often find myself drawn not only to the meaning of Eid but to the way it has been celebrated across time, especially in the grandeur of Fatimid Cairo, where faith met celebration in ways that still inspire.

The meaning of Eid

Eid al-Adha marks the Qur'anic narration of Prophet Ibrahim’s (ʿalayhi al-salām) willingness to sacrifice his son in obedience to Allah’s command. While Allah substituted a ram in place of the child, the real message was about faith, trust and submission.

For Muslims today, Eid is a moment of spiritual pause - when we realign our priorities, extend charity and embrace community. As mentioned in the Qur’anic Verse:

﴿لَنْ يَنَالَ اللَّهَ لُحُومُهَا وَلَا دِمَاؤُهَا وَلَٰكِنْ يَنَالُهُ التَّقْوَىٰ مِنكُمْ﴾

“It is neither their meat nor their blood that reaches Allah, but your piety.”
(Qur’an, 22:37)

This āyah always helps bring things into perspective, that Eid is not about rituals for their own sake, but about renewing sincerity.

Eid in the time of the Fāṭimiyyīn

Digging into historical texts while researching my coursework, I came across fascinating descriptions of how the Fāṭimiyyīn in Cairo celebrated not just Eid, but public joy as a civic duty. According to al-Maqrīzī and other historians, the Fāṭimiyyīn orchestrated elaborate Eid al-Adha celebrations that blended religious piety with breathtaking pageantry.

In Fatimid Cairo, Al-Azhar Mosque and the Eastern Palace were hubs of public gathering. On Eid, the streets were lit with oil lamps and coloured lanterns, while perfumes and sweet-smelling smoke from incense burners filled the mosques. Entire communities would gather to watch vibrant processions of scholars, musicians, and even trained animals. There were long tables (samaṭ) filled with honey-soaked pastries and roasted meats, and the Imam himself would appear from his viewing pavilion to watch the people celebrate.

Decorations and delights

One detail that stuck with me was that on the eve of Eid al-Adha, the city of Cairo would glitter with light. Gold and silver lanterns were placed at mosque doors, candles burned from minarets and sweets were distributed to both nobles and commoners. In the palace and at Al-Azhar, rows of silver trays were laid out, filled with honey pastries and slow-cooked lamb. Special coins were minted and gifted as Eidi, and incense would be burned for scholars giving talks after prayer.

It wasn’t just celebration, rather it was state-sponsored spiritual bonding. The Fāṭimiyyīn knew that public joy fosters unity, and Eid was a prime occasion to express it.

How I celebrate today

While I may not experience silver trays or palace lights, Eid for me still carries a similar emotional depth. I start the morning with prayer at the mosque, followed by breakfast in my University, AlJamea Tus Saifiyah, with dishes like lamb stew, sweet vermicelli (sheer khurma) and saffron rice. We give Qurbani, distributing meat to relatives and those in need. It is a grounded and meaningful way of preserving the Prophet’s (Peace Be Upon Him) Sunnah.

But now, as a student, my Eids come with other reflections. I often ask myself: What does sacrifice mean in a world of deadlines, readings and personal ambition? Sometimes, it is the sacrifice of time to help a classmate. Other times, it is putting aside distractions to focus on prayer or helping at a community food drive.

A moment for students

I believe Eid al-Adha is a great time for students to reframe sacrifice not as loss, but as growth. The Fāṭimiyyīn Aimmat transformed Cairo with festivals that balanced beauty and belief. As students, we can transform our own lives, not with golden lanterns but with intention, reflection and community action.

This Eid, I have decorated my study space with a small lamp and floral incense. I will spend the evening with friends from different backgrounds, discussing what Eid means to us. Just like in Fatimid Cairo, Eid becomes more beautiful when it is shared, not just in meals, but in values.

From my desk to yours, Eid Mubarak! May our sacrifices bring us closer to who we want to become.

Idrish studies Undergraduate Laws in Kenya.