TABASKI!

To prepare for Tabaski my host mom sent my brother out the night before to buy our family’s sheep. He asked me to come with him, so I decided why not. We walked about ten minutes to an intersection with one of the main roads where we found about 100 sheep on either side of the street. Khadim and I found his cousin/friend that sometimes lives with us (I’m still unsure how everyone is related in my house). The cousin had four sheep with him, but Khadim and I ended up walking around talking to people about all sorts of things, and looking at different sheep for about three hours. At this point it was 10:00 and I was starting to get hungry for dinner, so Khadim walked home with me, but then went back out to find our sheep again. I can’t figure out what we did for those three hours, or why the process of buying sheep is so complicated, but alas. That night it was one of my friend’s birthday, so I went out after dinner and got home around 3:00 (on the early side for Dakar). I called Khadim to let me in since I don’t have a key, but he told me he wasn’t home. I was surprised he was out, since he has stayed at home since his accident, but I figured he was feeling better (side note—he is all healed now!) and back to hanging out with his friends. Thankfully my host mom hadn’t gone to bed yet, so I called her and she let me in.

The next morning I woke up and could feel the holiday spirit in the air. It was Tabaski! My host mom was busy in the kitchen chopping garlic, hot peppers, onions, and all sorts of other treats. The house was quieter than usual since everyone but my host mom, Mbayang, Khadim, and I had left to spend Tabaski with their immediate family. I joined Mère Tall in the kitchen and she told me that Khadim was still asleep. I could tell she was upset, but I wasn’t sure why, and couldn’t figure out how to react. She moved on quickly and asked me if I had seen our sheep yet. I hadn’t but asked her how many we had, and where they were. At this my host mom changed from upset to angry (thankfully not at me). She told me we only had one sheep, and it wasn’t even very big. She continued to explain how Khadim was supposed to have gone to buy four sheep, and then sell two (in order to make/save some money) and keep two for our family. Once again, it is unclear to me how this happened, but Khadim had returned home last night after I had gone out, having accidently sold all four sheep. He didn’t seem to think this was a problem, however, until his mom asked him what happened. Turns out, Khadim was out late, not to hang with his friends, but because Mère Tall sent him out again to buy more sheep. Unfortunately, late the night before the big holiday, sheep are hard to find and have been picked over, so Khadim stayed out searching past 4:00 A.M. and was only able to buy one skinny sheep. I found this story pretty funny, but managed to contain myself while with my host mom. I went up to the roof (really an unfinished third floor with only half its walls and no ceiling) to visit our sheep. I admit I am no expert, but he looked pretty big to me. Looking around the neighborhood I could hear baa-ing from all directions and most roofs, it was a bit disturbing since I knew their fate.

Khadim woke up before long, and went to the mosque to pray. My host mom, still grumpy, had finished all the work she had in the kitchen, so all there was to do was wait for Khadim to come home so we could perform the sacrifice. Khadim took literally hours, and when he finally did arrive home Mère Tall gave him a piece of her mind. It blew over quickly however, and we all made our way up to the roof. On the stairs my host mom turned to me and said, “did you know the last student who stayed with up had never seen a sheep slaughtered before?!” Huh, I thought, she must be the only one, but I told the truth to my host mom that I hadn’t either.

The men (Khadim and two neighbors who came to help) were already on the roof, struggling with the sheep to hold it still and at the right angle. I don’t think I mentioned this before, but the holiday Tabaski celebrates when Ibrahim (or Abraham) was told to sacrifice his son Ishmael, but at the last moment Allah gave them a sheep to kill instead as a result, every Muslim family sacrifices at least one sheep, the sacrifice is supposed to be done by the oldest son, with the sheep’s blood flowing towards Mecca. Watching the process was somewhat unsettling, but to be honest was much easier than I expected. The men kept it fairly neat, and there was never a moment when I thought I would throw up. The only “iffy” part was during the skinning/dissecting/cleaning process the family decided to put me in the hot-seat of a fun game I like to call, “have you seen this part of a sheep before?” as they held up various innards. The meat was taken inside and started cooking; we ate pieces straight off the grill, and it was some of the best meat I have ever tasted (it was incredibly fresh). For lunch we ate the meat mixed with onion, garlic, spices, french fries, mayonnaise, mustard, and ketchup. This was one of the few meals we didn’t use spoons for, but instead just reached in with our hands. Messy, but delicious!

The rest of the day was filled with preparing the remaining parts of the sheep. That evening, my sister Mbayang had a friend (cousin?) over, the two girls dressed up in their traditional Senegalese outfits, and went to see their friends in the neighborhood. This is the second night my sister has been allowed to go out for an evening.

Overall it was an eye-opening day. The only negative is that Senegalese generosity made my family give away lots of the sheep meat. Since Tabaski we have been eating a variety of intestines. While not my first choice, I am able to eat them for dinner without being rude or left hungry.