In the quiet hours before dawn in Istanbul, the age-old tradition of the davulcu (drummer) comes alive during Ramadan. As the city stirs, rhythmic drumbeats echo through narrow streets, signaling the last meal before the daily fast.
This centuries-old ritual, rooted in Ottoman military bands, continues to unite communities and preserve cultural heritage, with dedicated drummers like Hakan Özbingöl rising each morning to carry forward a sacred duty that transcends generations.
It's 3:30 a.m. and the first light is gradually flickering on in the homes lining a narrow street in Istanbul as residents are stirred awake by the steady, rhythmic beat of a drum.
Emerging onto a balcony, Sibel Savaş and her grandson watch as the davulcu navigates the winding streets of the Ayvansaray neighborhood, his drumbeat signaling the last meal before the daily Ramadan fast begins at sunrise.
For the past 55 years, Özbingöl has risen very early every day during Ramadan to play his davul, a large, double-headed drum carried with a strap and played while walking through the streets. He inherited the role from his father, beginning his own rounds at the age of 10.
Although the nightly rounds are purely voluntary, local residents traditionally give a tip at the end of the month, Özbingöl explains, now 65 years old. While tips once allowed children to receive a special gift, today they are often barely enough to cover clothing or household bills. Despite this, he emphasizes that his work is not a job but a sacred duty.
"As long as it serves Allah, this drum will never fall silent. We are doing this for Allah, it is our duty," he said.
According to Harun Korkmaz, a music historian at Istanbul University, the Ramadan drum tradition dates back to the late 19th century when Ottoman military bands, or mehter, performed multiple times a day, marking the rhythm of daily life. "The davulcu are continuing this tradition," he says, noting that it originated in Istanbul before spreading across the country.
Beyond drumming, a true davulcu also chants "mani," short rhythmic poems, beneath windows to entertain a sleepy audience, Özbingöl explains. "In Türkiye, few davulcus know how to sing mani. It is not enough to merely play the drum while walking," he said.
Holding her grandson, Sibel Savaş notes she relies on the early-morning drum rather than an alarm clock. "This tradition is important to us; it comes from our ancestors," she says. On a nearby street, another drummer, 58-year-old Yurdaer, carefully adjusts his volume while passing the home of an elderly neighbor with heart problems.
Across Istanbul, there are 3,000 davulcu who wake the faithful each night in 961 neighborhoods, according to Selami Aykut, head of an organization representing the city's local mayors.
Following the pandemic, when the ritual was briefly halted, authorities doubled the number of accredited drummers. "We have increased the number we work with to better pass on our Ottoman traditions to young people, so they can feel the excitement of Ramadan," Aykut says.
With street vendors selling traditional foods becoming increasingly rare, replaced by supermarkets, the davulcu remain one of the few enduring figures of Ramadan in Istanbul. "There are no more people selling boza, no more yogurt sellers, nor other street vendors, almost all have disappeared," Özbingöl said.
