Honey, quick, Google “muslim celebration Sept 4”
On last Friday’s dog walk I noticed some action in the area that we’ve been told is something of a devotional place. It’s located on the coast. On most days it appears barren, with a few small trees and a cinderblock structure open on both ends. Occasionally we see a person or two there doing not much of anything. A low cinderblock wall painted with the visage of Bamba, a local Muslim religious hero, separates it from the street. On that day I took note that there were some tents being erected, large heavy canvas being stretched taught.
The following day it decided to rain most of the morning and into the afternoon. We stayed in and played with the sofa cushions and the long green socks they gave us on South African Airways until we finally decided to go out for an excursion to the pool, rain or not. As we prepared, I noticed a trickle, then a stream of cars crowded with people racing bumper to bumper down our little street towards the sea. From inside our house we could see over our wall the heads of people hanging onto the backs of car rapides as they speeded by. The steady stream had become a flood of people by the time we peered out to inspect the activity. It was a mass of Senegalais, on foot and in cars, women and men, young and old all dressed completely in their best white robes, all intent on pressing on to the devotional place. We were met with black heads and white robes all afternoon as we insisted our way upstream towards the Club Americaine pool, conspicuous with our bags bulging with pool and tennis toys. Later that day, like the Bay of Fundy tide shifting, the crowds of black and white retreated from the sea, leaving our little street clear for the goat and the soccer game to return in the evening.