Tabaski
A while back, Allison asked us, “Mommy, why are we afraid of goats?” as we passed another herd. “That’s ‘ghosts’ not ‘goats’ Sweetie. We’re not afraid of goats. Actually they’re not goats, they’re sheep, although they look like goats to us.”
Happy Tabaski…. I whisper to Bronwyn on waking. It doesn’t have nearly the appeal as “Merry Christmas” for us. Having just gotten back from our trip, we hadn’t researched Tabaski ahead of time. We just returned in time to give Astou two week’s salary for a mouton and a bag stuffed with all the leftover Christmas goodies that we’d vowed off of for New Year’s. Just the day before, I’d gotten my only word on Tabaski . As the Charity Committee was assembling, Jane said that she was excited because she’d scored an invitation to a Senegalese family’s home for the celebration. All of the old-timers gasped and began to tell their tales of having a similar “cultural experience” in previous years. All described a six to eight hour long eating frenzy that they were obliged to reste pour tout les temps. One’s husband got ill from something he ate, requiring a trip to the hospital. Another complained of the stench of blood everywhere. Susan, the professional pastry chef amoung us, had taken it to a culinary extreme. While her husband was away on a trip, she arranged with her guard’s help, to procure, sacrifice, skin, grill, and partager for the surrounding neighbors a medium sized mouton. The meat was tough she said, and the sheep was nothing you’d have wanted to get to know better before its depart. Unlike Mary’s little lamb, these Senegalese sheep have not wool, but straight, thin hair like a teenager. It’s not a cheery little “bah” that you hear on the streets, but a raspy, threatening “Bleeeeeh”, from an animal with squinty eyes looking out of big black eye patches, carrying long twisted horns. Allison has since asked if she can have a goat to live in our yard when she gets older…. like everyone else on the block here. We’ll see, I reply. We missed our opportunity for culture this Tabaski, but maybe next year.