Tabaski Holiday! It's like choose your own adventure... but with slaughtering and goats.

     Hello Dear Readers!  It has once again been quite a while since I've written, so I'll have to search deep in the depths of my memory for this post... well at least a week ago.  So, today, I'm going to tell you a little story about Tabaski.  "What is Tabaski, brother Erik?"  I can hear you asking.  Well, dear readers, Tabaski is a Muslim holiday where everyone goes and visits their family, wherever they may be- spends time with them, buys new clothes, and slays many many goats in the name of Abraham and Allah.  So, last week, like all the other Senegalese, I prepared to visit my family in Dakar to get a little taste of this, the biggest holiday of the year.
      The fun all started early in the morning on Friday, when Neal, Sarah, and I were to take a caravan (a bus jam-packed with people) to Dakar.  Now, the bus was originally supposed to leave at 4 AM, but that apparently wasn't early enough, so the organizers decided to push it back to 3 AM.  In addition, they called us the night before saying we should be out to the bus by 2:15 AM.  "Well, okay," I thought, "but seeing as this is Africa, and we are on African time, I'll get out to the bus at 3:30 and everything should be fine."  Haha, silly me, thinking I could predict Senegalese people.  Oh no.  I get a disruptive call at 1:45 AM asking where I am and why I'm not outside with my luggage.  Oookkkaaay... so I hurry my lil' self up and get out to the bus and board.  And then I sit in my seat.  And we wait.  And then we finally leave at 3:15.  So glad I got there on time!
     So, after much ado, we reached the outskirts of Dakar by 7:30 (which is actually fairly quick for Senegalese transportation).  Unfortunately, we chose the most trafficky time possible, and it took us another 3 hours to get to our final destination of downtown Dakar.  So, it ended up being a wonderfully comfortable trip of 7 hours, crammed between a huge (as in tall and broad-shouldered, not fat) Senegalese man and a prickly window.
    But finally we were there.  So I headed to my host family's house and impressed them with my new-learned Wolof words.  Instead of saying, "Hi, How are you?  I'm studying Wolof," I could now say, "Hey, what up, yo, I'm studying wolof at UGB in St. Louis"  It's amazing how quickly you learn idiomatic language when you're around youths.  After about 20 minutes my new arrival stature wore off, and I sort of just faded into the background of daily life again, which was nice then because I was TIRED!  Damoonnaa sonn!
     And, finally, Sunday arrived, the day of Tabaski!  I got up early so that I could go the mosque with the boys.  Apparently, women don't go to the mosque on Tabaski, only men.  The women stay and pray at home.  Not sure why it's like that.  So, I got up and hurriedly took my shower and donned my Tabaski clothes (see pictures to follow).
     I got out of the shower, ready to engage in some cultural/relgiousy experiences.  But none of the men were there.  I asked my host mom where they went, and she replied, "Oh, they went to the mosque.  I thought you knew we did that on Tabaski."  And I was like, "Yeah, I was gonna go, I was showering."  And she just laughed, probably thinking, "Silly toubab, thinking he can keep track of Senegalese people."  They're so slippery, the Senegalese!  Always disappearing somewhere and then coming back with handfuls of bread or suckers or something weird.
     So, anyway, the boys got back, and it was finally time for the goat slaying.  I excitedly/frightedly waited and watched as they led Haphaestus (the big ol' goat) out of his cage.  My family had hired 3 professionals to do the slaying because they didn't want to do the nitty-gritty.  Two of the men held Haphy down with his throat by the drain, and then 1, 2, 3, they slit his throat!  And the blood came gushing.  It was quite disgusting, but I made sure to watch.  It was a cultural experience after all!  All this happened as the other goats nervously looked on in their cage, probably thinking they were next.  Poor guys!  But we gave them some vegetables to munch on, and they were fine.
     After all the killing, the professionals disemboweled and skinned the goats and then removed the meat, which the ladies of the family then cooked on open spicket/grill things.  I wasn't able to eat much of the meat because I watched the whole affair, but I did try about so as not to offend my host family.  They were really surprised when I didn't want to try the goat testicles.  I almost barfed when they offered them to me.
     After a few hours the food was ready, and the family started to come over.  So many cute babies!  Most of my host dad's brothers came over, and they all brought their adorable baby boys and girls which I played with.  One of the little boys heard the goats baa-ing and thought it was hilarious.  For the rest of the afternoon, he was at the goat kennel, shouting, "Bagaaaaaa!"  So adorable!
     After eating with my family, I made the rounds to the other toubab houses, where I ate several more times and drank much bisap juice, alxamdulillaaaay, it's good!  I'll soon be writing a post about the varieties of fruit juices in Senegal, so tune in!  So, that was Tabaski!  A fun and wonderful day which was nothing at all like I expected, but good nonetheless.  Until next time, dear readers.  Ba ci kanaam!

Tabaski Smorgesbord!

Baby Bamba!

                                                                   

Poor Haphy, all dead and stuff