Eid fireworks light up night sky in Saudi Arabia as festive holiday begins

As Islam’s holy month of Ramadan ended, it is a particular special time because this will be the first Eid Al-Fitr for two years without any COVID-19 restrictions. (Shutterstock)
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Updated 02 May 2022
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Eid fireworks light up night sky in Saudi Arabia as festive holiday begins

  • Money and other types of gifts are commonly given as ‘eidiyah,’ typically from older relatives to children

JEDDAH: Fireworks lit up the night skies across the Kingdom on Monday after the new moon of Shawwal was sighted, marking the end of the sunrise-to-sunset month of fasting.

Eid Al-Fitr begins in Saudi Arabia with families spending quality time with loved ones and exchanging gifts, known as “eidiyah.”

As Islam’s holy month of Ramadan ended, it is a particular special time because this will be the first Eid Al-Fitr for two years without any COVID-19 restrictions.

“Welcoming eid is always bittersweet,” said Abdalla Salih, 24, from Jeddah. “I’m always sad to see Ramadan go, it’s a month I feel especially spiritual … compared to the rest of the year, but eid is about spending time with family and friends and being happy.” 

Salih told Arab News he often spends eid holidays with extended family in Sudan, but this year he will be staying in Jeddah. 

“I’m glad COVID is basically over here. The restrictions over the last two years took a toll on everyone, and now it’s time to put all that behind us,” he said. “This Eid, I’ll be taking advantage of everything I wasn’t able to do before, see all my family and friends, go out to gatherings; Silat Al-Rahm is very important in Islam.”

Silat Al-Rahm is the Islamic concept of maintaining ties of kinship. Religious occasions like Ramadan and eid are great opportunities for Muslims to see their families and have meals together.

“As I grew older, I started to enjoy giving gifts more than receiving them. Maybe when I was younger, I preferred to receive gifts, but the problem now is my nieces and nephews look to me for their eidiyah.”

Money is most commonly given as eidiyah, but other types of gifts are also accepted, typically from older relatives to children in the family.

The money is often put in an envelope, and children gather around their parents, aunts and uncles to receive them. 

“As you grow older, you hit a peak of how much you can get from family members. For me, it was around SR1,000 ($266), but after a certain point, you start to work, they stop giving you, and you’re now expected to give,” Salih said. “The torch has now been passed to the new generation.”

This eid, Salih will be attending the customary morning devotion with his family, which takes place after the Fajr prayer on the first day, and then head home to enjoy a “break-feast.”

“Most households in Saudi Arabia have big breakfasts with their families,” he said. “You can imagine after a month of fasting, it’s something we all look forward to very much. My favorite dishes are foul (fava beans), shakshooka (Arabian style eggs), some olives, cheeses, and fresh juices. After that, it’s pretty much goodnight for me.”

After seeing the family, Salih will see his friends over the remainder of eid with plans to gather on Jeddah’s beautiful beaches.

“Eid and beach are synonymous with the people of Jeddah, it’s something we all have to do here. My friends and I will stay at one of our friends’ beach houses in Durrah for a couple of days, enjoying the sunrise and sunsets together, talking and having laughs and playing some volleyball. It’s really my favorite time of the year.”


‘I feel seen,’ says Saudi storyteller Noura Alashwali

Saudi visual storyteller Noura Alashwali’s debut graphic novel began as a way to process grief in private. (Supplied)
Updated 03 January 2026
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‘I feel seen,’ says Saudi storyteller Noura Alashwali

  • Ministry of Culture-backed incubator helped Jeddah local create her first graphic novel

JEDDAH: Visual storyteller Noura Alashwali is one of a generation of Saudi artists whose personal journeys mirror the Kingdom’s cultural transformation, meaning their creative impulses are increasingly backed by public institutions and have an audience ready to listen.

“Creative expression was never just a hobby for me; it was a need,” Alashwali, 37, told Arab News. “From a young age, whether through writing or drawing, creativity felt like a part of who I was. And it still is.”

It was her education at Dar Al-Hekma University, where she obtained a degree in graphic design, that gave structure and language to an instinct she had carried since childhood. 

Saudi visual storyteller Noura Alashwali’s debut graphic novel began as a way to process grief in private. (Supplied)

“My earliest memory of drawing with pen and paper is when I was four years old, and I still have those drawings,” she said. Like many artists, she experimented with various mediums as she grew older. Eventually, she found her way to a Saudi art center that she described as “a very popular and wonderful place to learn art.”

At university, Alashwali’s work turned digital. “When I learned about the major, I immediately felt that I belonged. Graphic design is about visual communication. It’s not just about creating art, but about communicating ideas, thoughts, and stories.”

Those ideas would take on a personal weight in 2023 with “Deema and the Old Letters,” her debut graphic novel.

When an idea comes to me (now), I take it more seriously. I honor it and commit to it. I say, ‘Thank you for choosing me. I’m going do my best to manifest you.’

Noura Alashwali, Saudi storyteller

“It was a way for me to process my grief after my mother passed away in 2023,” Alashwali explained. “I was simply writing and drawing while processing very heavy emotions.” 

Noura Alashwali's creativity was supported by the Literature, Publishing and Translation Commission's Authors’ Incubator Program in 2024. (Supplied)

What transformed that intimate archive into a published work was institutional support. In early 2024, Alashwali came across an open call from the Ministry of Culture’s Literature, Publishing and Translation Commission for its Authors’ Incubator program. 

The inclusion of graphic novels and comics among the supported genres caught her attention. She assembled her materials into a PDF, applied, and was accepted.

For the six-month Riyadh-based program she was paired with a mentor, Dr. Hanan Al-Ghadi from Princess Nourah University, and supported logistically. By November 2024, she had signed with Rashm, a publishing house collaborating with the commission.

Alashwali contrasts the protagonist’s depression with the warmth of Jeddahwi landscapes. (Supplied)

Beyond the mentorship and funding, the experience reshaped her sense of self.

“It felt like a dream. Because of institutional support from the Ministry of Culture, I feel validated. I feel seen,” she said. “It encouraged me to take my practice seriously — not just as self-expression, but as something that contributes to the Saudi cultural scene.”

Initiatives such as the incubator program do not merely teach skills; they signal that deeply personal stories of grief, love and memory have a place in the public cultural sphere.

Alashwali contrasts the protagonist’s depression with the warmth of Jeddahwi landscapes. (Supplied)

While Alashwali hopes her work will be translated into English, publishing in Arabic for Saudi readers was the natural choice. “It’s great to contribute to the local scene with an Arabic graphic novel,” she said.

“Deema and the Old Letters” traces a young woman’s journey through pain and grief, using moonlit symbolism and visual poetry to explore art as a means of self-discovery and healing.

“I wanted it to feel intimate and personal. So ‘Deema’ is also designed like a journal,” Alashwali noted.

The protagonist’s depression is juxtaposed with the warmth of Jeddahwi landscapes. 

“Jeddah is home. And when you are home, you’re being your most authentic self,” Alashwali said. “It’s a very kind and happy city; very welcoming and down-to-earth.”

The literature commission’s incubator also expanded Alashwali’s creative world, connecting her to artists from across the Kingdom, including Riyadh, Baha, and the Eastern Province. 

“We have lots of beautiful cultures and stories in Saudi Arabia,” she said. “I have developed close friendships which contributed to my creative practice and personal growth.”

This sense of cross-regional exchange reflects a shift: Artists who once worked in silos are now being given room to meet, collaborate and be heard. 

“What I enjoy most about being a storyteller in Saudi Arabia is that the scene is still fresh. People notice new work and genuinely connect with it,” Alashwali said. “It doesn’t feel overcrowded and overwhelming.”

Besides the literature commission, she has worked with the Visual Arts Commission and the Heritage Commission, including a workshop on creating eyeglass frames using Saudi craft techniques, created in collaboration with Italian gallery Moi Aussi and the Saudi Artisanal Company. 

At Hayy Jameel in December, as part of the three-day “Soul of Palestine” program, Alashwali led a visual storytelling workshop where participants created digital illustrations to celebrate Palestinian heritage and culture.

Earlier in 2025, she participated in the Jeddah Book Fair and the Riyadh International Book Fair. In Jeddah, she worked with younger audiences on transforming emotions into short comics. In Riyadh, the focus shifted to books and artistic practice. 

Across these settings, her metric for success remains emotional rather than technical. “It’s when I feel the participants have opened their hearts and try to transform their emotions into a comic, regardless of the drawing skills,” she explained.

Alashwali’s next project is inspired by conversations with her five-year-old daughter. “One day, after smelling a vanilla perfume she loves, she told me: ‘Mama, I think this is the smell of my heart.’ She believed it completely,” she said. “That idea stayed with me — the thought that the world might be kinder if we could smell hearts. So, the project will take the form of a directory of heart scents.”

Her plans for 2026 are modest. “I hope to dedicate more time and energy to my art,” she said. “If that doesn’t happen, publishing my next book will be enough.”

Underpinning it all is a philosophy she returns to — one espoused in one of her favorite books, “Big Magic,” in which Elizabeth Gilbert writes about ideas as living entities searching for someone to bring them into the world.

“As a Muslim, I believe these ideas are created by God,” said Alashwali. “When an idea comes to me now, I take it more seriously. I honor it and commit to it. I say, ‘Thank you for choosing me. I’m going do my best to manifest you.’”