It's the Holiday Season

So as ya’ll are all gearing up for Holiday Season 2K10, I celebrated yet another Islamic parade of apologizing, macaroni, and sheep.  Last Wednesday was “Tobaski.” It is the celebration of the story of Abraham almost sacrificing his son to God in the Old Testament.  Because, Abraham is finally told to spare his son and instead kill a sheep, the Islamic faith celebrates this day in the same fashion.  The morning was spent in the same fasion as Korite (the celebration after Ramadan).  Everyone donned new clothes, new braids, and new shoes (all of which will last approximately one to two months).  We then went to the praying field for a quick session with Allah and, of course, to show off our new clothes.  After the prayers, we headed home apologizing to everyone we saw, removed our new clothes, and proceeded to dismember the sheep.  If I wasn’t so grossed out by the whole process of it, I think I could have found a new calling in life. 

The other day, biking to Koutiabia, I noticed a man lying in the middle of the road from afar.  He wasn’t moving, so I started praying that he wasn’t dead, because that would be awkward on all accounts.   I finally come right next to him and at once check for vital signs.  Luckily, he was breathing. So, I yelled at him “Oiy,” (mainly, because he was blocking the whole “road”).  He didn’t move.  I yelled again, and again, he didn’t move.  On the 3^rd “Oiy” his eyes popped open.  He sees me -a token twobaab on a bike- and jumps up.  I greet him, and offer him some water.  He accepts, reluctantly, but all the while, he looks terrified.  After drinking a bit, he says nothing, but starts climbing up a tree…bizarre

One of my favorite things to do is to teach my Saare Boylians random English sayings. The other day, they asked me the word for “mayi.” I told them. Then, they asked me to write it on my sister’s hut in charcoal. So I did.  Now, she has the word “death” very conspicuously covering the front of her house.  Hopefully, it will neither prove to be ominous nor a form of bad luck.

Oh, this was a weird thing I noticed.  The other morning, I heard a plane overhead.  It was probably the first plane I’ve heard in months.  Who would ever fly over the bush towns of Tambacounda, Senegal? It was probably the most unnatural thing I’ve encountered in village since being there, outside the time Jillian and I snuck an Oreos and powdered milk.