‘Inshallah I’ll find another dress here.’

The Limburg Hajar (18) lashes the long royal blue djellaba over her ponytail, and then hoists herself in a burgundy red with stones. She looks at her mother questioningly: which one is more beautiful? Her mother points to an aubergine-colored one on the rack, which could also be done. Oh help, you see Hajar thinking, she’ll never get out like that, will she? The intention was to score an outfit here quickly before the Sugar Fest, but that doesn’t go well.

The cacophony of women’s voices and screaming children does not make the stress any less, here under the exuberant chandeliers of the Deniz Dügun Salonu conference center. It is the second edition of the Grand Eid Bazaar (‘Eid’ is Arabic for party) in Eindhoven. Many hundreds of Muslim women from all corners of the southern Netherlands and Belgium traveled to this industrial estate in Eindhoven-North on Saturday, to quickly stock up for the big party with which the fasting month of Ramadan ends on Monday.

Women’s fairs like this one are a relatively new phenomenon – they have also been held in Amsterdam, Utrecht and The Hague for a few years now. ‘But we are the only ones in the south of the country’, says Madem Shahid, who organizes the bazaar with her sister-in-law Nikky van Eijndhoven. ‘Eindhoven has a huge Muslim community, but little is done about it. That’s why we set this up. Here you have everything under one roof for a pleasant afternoon with your friends, your mother or your aunt.’ Visitors mainly come to buy gifts. Shahid: ‘You can compare it to last minute Christmas shopping.’

Muslim women of all ages shuffle down the aisle

It goes from books like Baby’s first Quran stories to bathing suits from Nordays (‘a burkini for tanning and sunbathing’). Traditional pillows, sweets for the children, argan oil, a calendar, home perfume – friends Fatima (45) and Karima (47) list all the gifts that have ended up in their bags. ‘You won’t find any of this with us in Venray,’ says Fatima. Or as 18-year-old Hajar puts it: ‘Everything I normally order via social media, I find here in real life.’

Because the organizing sisters-in-law Van Eijndhoven and Shahid want to reach all generations, they not only advertised via social media, but also pushed 15,000 flyers through letterboxes with their own hands. ‘The older women from this community often don’t get out much, so you have to go there,’ says Shahid.

Now she is pleased to see that Muslim women of all ages are shuffling step by step through the aisles. Women with roots in the Middle East, Morocco, the Netherlands, Turkey or Suriname. ‘You really see a reflection of society here today,’ says Shahid. A reflection of a society without men.

Airy dresses and denim skirts don’t work

But that only makes shopping more enjoyable, according to the organizer. ‘A man like that just trudges after it. At least a girlfriend or niece is watching with you.’ And look, Shahid points to an unveiled woman pulling a dress over her head at a clothing stall down the road. ‘With only women you feel much more freedom. You can just fit in here, no shame, girls among each other.’

While in the middle of the afternoon there is still a line of at least a hundred women outside, the saleswoman of Instagram store Caftans de Princesse is already leaning over an almost empty stall. She still has three pairs of slippers and a few dresses, and all gold-bound Qurans, fragrance sticks and prayer beads are sold out. ‘It went a bit faster than we expected’, says the woman, who, like many others here, does not want her name in the newspaper ‘because I don’t like to be in the spotlight’. Ah, there you will just have her sister-in-law, who has driven back to Helmond to get new merchandise. Puffing, she pushes a thick black suitcase with the last scrap of warehouse stock under the stall.

The only salesperson who has time to stare bored at her bright pink artificial nails is Annegret Gorissen, who runs a clothing store in Neerpelt, Belgium. Here in Eindhoven she misses the mark with her airy dresses, denim skirts, sunglasses and handbags. ‘I am not a Muslim, I misjudged the target group. I thought: there are also enough young people around, they don’t all want such a traditional dress, do they? So yes.’

Tradition scores

Tradition scores here, as evidenced by the long queue for the tables where you can have yourself painted with henna. ‘Decorating your hands nicely, that is part of the Sugar Fest,’ says Wassila (20), who is standing in line with her niece Mina from Venlo. The young women think that things will go wild this year, now that you can finally party again without corona measures. ‘In our family there really is such an atmosphere of: we are allowed again,’ says Mina, dressed in dark green from crown to ankle. ‘It’s nice to visit everyone again and to visit grandma together.’

Saleswoman Sakina Abarcan (26) from Brussels is also looking forward to seeing her whole family together again. ‘Last year it was really sad for Grandpa that he was only there by phone.’ Abarcan sells baby nests in which the newborn is protected by a shiny bumper of gold woven fabric. ‘People like to give something like this as a present.’ She hopes that later, when it’s quieter at her stall, she can slip away for a while to hunt for bargains herself. ‘Inshallah I find another dress, otherwise I won’t have anything to wear tomorrow!’