Tabaski and Tambaween: A Tale of Two Celebrations

It's holiday season in Senegal.  The biggest holiday of the year around these parts is known throughout West Africa as Tabaski (or "saliba", the big prayer, in Malinke).  It is a day to celebrate the willingness of Abraham to sacrifice his son (Ishmael in the Muslim version of the story and Isaac in the JudeoChristian version in Genesis).  In the story, God asks Abraham to sacrifice his son, and Abraham agrees. At the last minute, a ram appears, sent by God to be sacrificed in place of the son.  On Tabaski, which occurs one month and ten days after the end of Ramadan, each family that is able, slaughters a ram in commemmeration of this event.

Tambaween, on the other hand, is merely the celebration of Halloween by Peace Corps Volunteers, which takes place annually in Tambacounda.

This year, these two celebrations occurred within 3 days of each other.

The biggest indicator that Tabaski was approaching was the sudden appearance of large groups of Pulaar herders on the main thorough-fairs, herding the flocks toward slaughter in bigger cities. 

These sheep ended up (literally) in Kedougou.

Another sign of the approach of Tabaski was the extreme increase in workload of the tailor shop outside our family's compound.  Many people get new fancy clothes for Tabaski, and a lot of people went to the gold mines in order to make this (as well as the purchase of the sacrificial ram) possible.  I thought it would be fun to get matching outfits with Sadio, my host mom, and, more importantly, my namesake.  I bought 6 meters of fancy bazan fabric to split between the two of us, as the merchant assured me would be possible.  However, when I took the fabric to the tailor and explained my idea, they thought it was a great idea but explained that there was no way that was possible.  Sadio is a keeba, an old person, and they could not make anything less than a "grand-boubou" for her.  Sadio felt really bad; she loved the idea and really wanted us to have matching outfits, but she could just not see how it was possible.  It was a good illustration of the respect of elders that is so important here.

I still think they could have taken a meter out of this at least make me something like a tunic-dress.  You can't see it in this picture, but if she were to hold her arms up. she would practically have wings.  Oh well, it was totally worth it to see how incredibly happy she was to have new, super nice, clothes to wear for Tabaski.  I've actually never seen her so excited about anything ever.

The days leading up to Tabaski were full of preparation.  Women everywhere were doing each other's hair, putting in fancy extensions for the occasion, and putting henna on each other's feet and hands.  My neighbor Soma did my feet, and Madame Sy, one of the midwives at the health center, did my hair, which she compared to doll hair.

Step One:  Put on tape to mark out the design, and cover with henna mixed with water.

Step Two: Put plastic bags on your feet and wait for hours.  In your boredom, eat raw peanuts straight from the plant that will eventually become the leading suspect for your diarrhea and temperature of 104 degrees severFal days later)

Final product.  Looks like I ate cheetos with my feet, but people thought it was very beautiful.  I didn't do Step Three, which is to put another substance called dioni-dioni over the henna.  This step turns it black, but Pat read that this substance is sometimes made by crushing up batteries so I opted out.  However, my feet still looked good enough that my deaf host brother felt compelled to tell me in his sign language that Pat would be very happy, and that now we would have a baby.

On the morning of Tabaski, the first event is to go to the mosque.  At least that was what I thought was implied by the term "sali kenaato", which literally means, "the praying field".  It turns out it was the basketball court.  Too many people for the mosque I guess.  We didn't go to prayer for Korite, and people were very confused by that and assured us that we were welcome there, so we decided to tag along this time, even though we didn't know the prayers or the motions.  It was really cool though.  I just prayed my own prayers and followed Sadio's motions.  It kind of felt like a yoga class more than anything--just following the movements.  At one point she started whispering to me and I thought I was doing something wrong.  Turns out she just wanted to know if I brought my camera.  I hadn't because it would have felt voyeuristic, but there were people taking pictures all over the place.

After the prayer, everyone accompanied the Immam back to his compound, everyone dispersed.  It was ram slaughtering time.

I am super impressed that no one got any blood on their fancy boubous.

Our family actually had two rams because our dad's cousin, a former bigshot politician, came to celebrate Tabaski here and brought his own ram.  Here they are with their slaughtering knives.

Another tradition is that you fast from the time you get back from the mosque  and then break the fast with the ram's liver.  Here they are cutting out the liver in order to cook it with onions.

Yum, liver and onions.  Actually, it was really delicious.

Meat storage a la Senegalaise.  Yep, those are legs stuck in the thatch of the roof.

Pat chilling with the ram heads.  They were supposed to be eaten the next day, but some family drama got in the way.

In a funny way, Tabaski reminded me a lot of some the feelings I have at holidays back home.  Pat and I try to split holidays as evenly as possible between our two families, but there is always a feeling like you should maybe be leaving or should maybe be at the other family's house, that you are missing something.  Here, we have essentially developed two families: our host family and the staff at the health center, who all are sent from other parts of the country and become a family for each other.  We were successful at making it for the main meal at both places, al humdillilahi.

Cooking with the women.  At our family's compound the meal was boiled meat, potatoes, and onions.  And a lot of oil.  I didn't eat all that much, knowing what was coming at the health center. 

Same animal killed, much different product.  Here they steamed and grilled the meat, and made salad and fries...sooo delicious.

After the meal, people get dressed up again and go out to greet their friends and neighbors, to give them benedictions and ask forgiveness for any offenses.  Kids go out and ask for money, kind of like Halloween.

A troupe of kids partly made up of kids from our family's compound.  They are wearing makeup and look pretty creepy. 

Our special guest from Dakar brought in traditional musicians for the end of the day.  By this time, I was exhausted, but managed to summon the energy for some flailing/dancing with Sadio. 

Three days later...

I had been on the fence about attending Tambaween, having been travelling a lot lately for different trainings and such, plus my friend was flying in a few days later, leaving an awkward gap where it didn't make sense to go back to Kedougou before heading to Dakar.  Then, I learned that Kedougou volunteers were going to all go dressed up as one theme...Disney.  At that point, I had to go.  I signed up as Cinderella.  Pat was originally going to be Prince Charming, but he ended up opting for Peter Pan, since Prince Charming has no known personality.  We then realized he looked more like Robin Hood than Peter Pan, so he changed again, and the results were excellent.

Our hotel room in Tamba is what it would be like if all the Disney Princesses were helping each other primp.  In Africa.

All outfits locally made.  I think the tailor thought we were a little crazy, but he has helped enough volunteers make Halloween costumes by now not to question.

While the girls were primping, Pat was hard at work on his Peter Pan/Robin Hood hat.

Ashleigh found these extensions for her Rapunzel costume in the Kedougou market.  Apparently they had been trying, unsuccessfully to sell these blonde extensions for two years, suprise, surprise.

Here, we are, some of Kedougou's Disney Princesses.

At the last minute, Pat made a really impressive bow.  In the Senegalese version of the story, it is Robin Hood who finds Cinderella's glass slipper.

Ariel, Snow White,Tinkerbell, Belle, Cinderella, Jazmine, Rapunzel.  It doesn't get any better than this.

Glass slippers African styles.  These jelly shoes are the best option most people have for playing sports, and I learned at Tambaween that they are so, so uncomfortable and just rip up your feet.

Tambacounda is the hottest place in Senegal.  Luckily, Ariel's tail doubles as a fan.

Happy Halloween from Senegal!