Feast of Tabaski

December 30, 2006 was the Muslim feast of Tabaski. My homologue, Mme. Koumaré, explained to me that the feast is based on the Genesis story of God commanding Abraham to sacrifice his only son, Isaac. Just as Abraham was about to kill Isaac, an angel came down and told him not to, because he proved that he would honor and obey God, no matter what He asked. So instead of sacrificing his son, Abraham sacrificed a ram that he found stuck in some brush. So for Tabaski, all the families slaughter sheep (or goats if they can't afford sheep), and they eat and eat and eat until there is no meat left. The feast lasts for days (I think by day two they cook and eat the heads). It was very intense. I celebrated the feast with Mme. Koumaré's family. They had already slaughtered their two sheep by the time I arrived (around noon), and had already begun eating some of the meat they cooked. It was the best meat I've had in Mali. My first plate was cut meat chunks cooked over a fire, with onions, tomatos, cucumbers and french fries all mixed together.

(Women preparing the meat)

They never stopped cooking! We literally ate meat until it was too dark to see anything. Then we had dinner! Which, by the way, was brochettes (shish kabobs) of meat, followed by a giant bowl of shredded meat. I was so meated out by the end, I had to stop eating. So they sent me home with a bowl full of meat to eat for breakfast!

(Some of the boys eating -- they're really nice, they just look angry in photos. For some reason most Malians don't smile when they pose for photos.)

It was a great experience to celebrate a feast with a Malian family. Other neighbors and friends kept stopping by to greet the family. They'd stay, eat a bit, chat and then go on their way. And they'd bring meat for my family, and my family would in turn give them some of their meat to take home. As poor as everyone is here, they are extremely generous with their food (as well as everything else). And whenever Garabous came by (the street children who are sent to beg for religious reasons that I don't quite understand), we always gave them a hunk of raw meat. I guess they have somewhere to go cook it...

(Mme Koumaré and me. Her son chopped the tops of our heads off when he took the pic)

(Mme Koumaré and a baby (mabye her niece?) Sorry the photo's sideways...)