Tobaski
Tobaski was this weekend. All through last week Gambians thought Tobaski was going to be on Monday. It all depends on the phases of the moon. Even though the exact moment of the phases of the moon can be predicted a thousand years in advance, according to Islam one must wait until you observe it. As such, it wasn't until Friday that the Islamic Council declared that Tobaski was going to be on Sunday. This is the same as if Christmas was moved from the 25th to the 24th, on the 22nd; the 23rd would be a mad-house of people buying last minute Christmas items. The same is true here. Everyone was out that Saturday buying their last minute rams and outfits. The outfits are their "Sunday-best" which they wear for the occasion.
Officially Tobaski is two months and ten days after the end of Ramadan. You would think that would make the date of Tobaski quite evident, but the start and end of Ramadan depends on the phases of the moon; hence Tobaski does too. Tobaski's roots go back to the Sacrifice of Abraham. When he was about to sacrifice Isaac, God (Allah) told him to sacrifice a goat instead. Muslims sacrifice a goat in symbolism that they would sacrifice their only son if Allah commanded it.
We were invited by Annamarie's counterpart to take part in the activities of the day with her family. Early in the morning Kate, Annamarie, and I dressed up and went to their house. Since the slaughter is the most symbolic part of the day, and hence the main reason for the day, I wanted to see it. We were told to arrive before ten o'clock as that's when the family would slaughter their ram. We showed up a little bit before.
The slaughtering is done by a religious person, or the head of the house or compound. However, he can only do the slaughtering if he has attended the ritual slaughtering by the imam in the morning. Earlier that day the father and son of the compound went to the mosque for the morning prayers. The woman had to stay behind, as custom called for it. When we arrive we were quite surprised to learn that the father would not slaughter the ram; he couldn't handle it. He asked if any of us would like to do it. This was in a half-serious, half-joking manner as only a muslim could sacrifice the ram for it to mean something. His son wasn't old enough. The father shook his head and just shrugged saying 'Well, have to get someone then' and left the house.
A few minutes later he comes back in with a teenager holding a machete. With a proud smile the father announced that the slaughtering would happen now and anyone who wished to watch to come along. Annamarie stayed behind, Kate watched from a window, and I went outside.
We did bring our cameras but were debating whether it was proper to take a picture of the slaughter. Finally it was agreed not too, as slaughtering the ram is a testament to their faith and so would be improper to take a few snapshots. I left the camera inside.
Stepping outside, we turned to the side of the house. The compound was surrounded by bricks and the side of the house had about a seven-foot-square area from the corners of the bricks to the compound. Inside that area was the ram tied to a tree. The teenager, along with two friends (or family relatives of the compound?) untied the ram and held it to the ground. One man was holding the back feet while another was holding the front. The father stood next to me watching in anticipation.
The teenager with the knife knelt down. When I thought of slaughtering I thought of a quick knife cut from ear to ear and blood everywhere. Wrong. After kneeling down, he said a solemn prayer with full conviction, held the backside of the knife to the neck and tapped it three times. I do not know the significance of that, whether it was a required action or a personal action of his choice, but I figured it was just apologizing for what he had to do.
He then flipped the knife the proper way and instead of a quick cut ear-to-ear he just cut as fast as he could like sawing wood. It was over with within three seconds. However, within those three seconds the ram at first acted startled, then panicked, then calm, then he died. Surprisely, very little blood. The head was still attached, although barely. The father helped the teenager attach string to the foot and hung the ram upside down. As the teenager was in the process of skinning him, the father and I had a conversation
"Would you like a chair?"
"I would rather stand"
"I'm surprised you did not take a picture."
"I thought you wouldn't like it."
"Oh no. Take as many as you like."
Even with that permission, by then I didn't feel like taking a picture. The best reasoning as to the somewhat confusion is an analogy. Thanksgiving is suppose to be a solemn occasion in the U.S., but throughout the years the solemnity has left and it's just a tradition. A visitor from another country might think the process of carving the turkey is solemn and so would not want to take pictures. Most Americans, I believe, would have no problem with someone taking their picture while carving the turkey; in fact, they'll probably encourage it and pose a little for the picture. They're proud that their action, at the occasion, is picture-worthy to a visitor. That is the way I suspect the father envisioned it. He was proud that he had a ram to sacrifice for his family and wanted someone to take a picture of the sacrifice.
No picture was taken.
I stood watching the whole sacrifice and skinning. He had to cut the rest of the head off and was skinning the whole body in one piece. Sometimes he needed more then the power of the machete and got his foot involved for leverage. When the skin was off I began to realize why some people turn vegetarian after watching it, why others turn veterinarian, and others turn to the toilet. None of those actions came to me. He sliced the underbelly and was caught off-guard by the fallen insides. Grabbing them he yelled for a bucket in which the girls in the compound ran to get. They placed the bucket underneath his hand and he let go. As the insides were fallen out I realized how little the ram was meat. The teenager put his hands inside the bucket to find the liver. He cut it apart from the rest of the organs and placed in on a plate which one of the girls brought inside.
I watched him take the meat off and even to the point of chopping the skeleton. It was just the spinal-cord hanging from two legs when I left to go inside. Upon entering both Kate and Annamarie asked "Glad you saw it?" I had to reply: "I'm glad I saw it, but not that I've seen it". The meaning wasn't quite there, the way I said that, but it meant that I had to see it just once in my life.
A few moments later one of the daughters came in with a plate of cooked liver, salad, and onions. Apparently the liver is the best part as they offered it to the guests first. Both Kate and I had some while Annamarie ate the salad. While being in the Gambia you eat strange things, although liver isn't quite as strange; the other month I had brain chwarma, so eating a liver that I just saw ten minutes being taken out of an animal didn't phase me that much.
About an hour later the children come into the room with a huge food bowl and announce the lunch is ready and we could go to the table. At first, when I saw the food bowl I thought we would all be eating out of it; but when she said 'the table' I realized it was the same as Thanksgiving: adults in one table, the children at the other. Except here it's the adults eating out of plates at the table and children all eating together out of a foodbowl. Everyone was dressed in their "Sunday best".
The lunch was ram meat, vegetables ("vege-tables" they call them), rice, wonjo (similar to kool-aid but more sweet), and other assortments. We decided to leave soon after lunch and was surprised that they expected us to stay for dinner, around eight. Apparantly dinner was the main course and lunch was just an appetizer. We were full already and politely left.
The next day, Monday, children were everywhere asking for hand-outs. This is similar to Halloween except here they all run all over the place all day asking anyone and everyone for money, candy, and other items. By night-time when I was walking to the PC Office it was a mad-house! If all these kids were college students they would be calling in the National Guard, you have a riot on your hands! All joking aside, it was peaceful but annoying when walking:
"toubob, give me dalasi."
"toubob, give me ten dalasi."
"toubob, give me hundred dalasi."
And the real kicker: "toubob, give me your watch."
Two days of celebration ended in a headache trying to survive the onslaught of the kids.
-MIke
Officially Tobaski is two months and ten days after the end of Ramadan. You would think that would make the date of Tobaski quite evident, but the start and end of Ramadan depends on the phases of the moon; hence Tobaski does too. Tobaski's roots go back to the Sacrifice of Abraham. When he was about to sacrifice Isaac, God (Allah) told him to sacrifice a goat instead. Muslims sacrifice a goat in symbolism that they would sacrifice their only son if Allah commanded it.
We were invited by Annamarie's counterpart to take part in the activities of the day with her family. Early in the morning Kate, Annamarie, and I dressed up and went to their house. Since the slaughter is the most symbolic part of the day, and hence the main reason for the day, I wanted to see it. We were told to arrive before ten o'clock as that's when the family would slaughter their ram. We showed up a little bit before.
The slaughtering is done by a religious person, or the head of the house or compound. However, he can only do the slaughtering if he has attended the ritual slaughtering by the imam in the morning. Earlier that day the father and son of the compound went to the mosque for the morning prayers. The woman had to stay behind, as custom called for it. When we arrive we were quite surprised to learn that the father would not slaughter the ram; he couldn't handle it. He asked if any of us would like to do it. This was in a half-serious, half-joking manner as only a muslim could sacrifice the ram for it to mean something. His son wasn't old enough. The father shook his head and just shrugged saying 'Well, have to get someone then' and left the house.
A few minutes later he comes back in with a teenager holding a machete. With a proud smile the father announced that the slaughtering would happen now and anyone who wished to watch to come along. Annamarie stayed behind, Kate watched from a window, and I went outside.
We did bring our cameras but were debating whether it was proper to take a picture of the slaughter. Finally it was agreed not too, as slaughtering the ram is a testament to their faith and so would be improper to take a few snapshots. I left the camera inside.
Stepping outside, we turned to the side of the house. The compound was surrounded by bricks and the side of the house had about a seven-foot-square area from the corners of the bricks to the compound. Inside that area was the ram tied to a tree. The teenager, along with two friends (or family relatives of the compound?) untied the ram and held it to the ground. One man was holding the back feet while another was holding the front. The father stood next to me watching in anticipation.
The teenager with the knife knelt down. When I thought of slaughtering I thought of a quick knife cut from ear to ear and blood everywhere. Wrong. After kneeling down, he said a solemn prayer with full conviction, held the backside of the knife to the neck and tapped it three times. I do not know the significance of that, whether it was a required action or a personal action of his choice, but I figured it was just apologizing for what he had to do.
He then flipped the knife the proper way and instead of a quick cut ear-to-ear he just cut as fast as he could like sawing wood. It was over with within three seconds. However, within those three seconds the ram at first acted startled, then panicked, then calm, then he died. Surprisely, very little blood. The head was still attached, although barely. The father helped the teenager attach string to the foot and hung the ram upside down. As the teenager was in the process of skinning him, the father and I had a conversation
"Would you like a chair?"
"I would rather stand"
"I'm surprised you did not take a picture."
"I thought you wouldn't like it."
"Oh no. Take as many as you like."
Even with that permission, by then I didn't feel like taking a picture. The best reasoning as to the somewhat confusion is an analogy. Thanksgiving is suppose to be a solemn occasion in the U.S., but throughout the years the solemnity has left and it's just a tradition. A visitor from another country might think the process of carving the turkey is solemn and so would not want to take pictures. Most Americans, I believe, would have no problem with someone taking their picture while carving the turkey; in fact, they'll probably encourage it and pose a little for the picture. They're proud that their action, at the occasion, is picture-worthy to a visitor. That is the way I suspect the father envisioned it. He was proud that he had a ram to sacrifice for his family and wanted someone to take a picture of the sacrifice.
No picture was taken.
I stood watching the whole sacrifice and skinning. He had to cut the rest of the head off and was skinning the whole body in one piece. Sometimes he needed more then the power of the machete and got his foot involved for leverage. When the skin was off I began to realize why some people turn vegetarian after watching it, why others turn veterinarian, and others turn to the toilet. None of those actions came to me. He sliced the underbelly and was caught off-guard by the fallen insides. Grabbing them he yelled for a bucket in which the girls in the compound ran to get. They placed the bucket underneath his hand and he let go. As the insides were fallen out I realized how little the ram was meat. The teenager put his hands inside the bucket to find the liver. He cut it apart from the rest of the organs and placed in on a plate which one of the girls brought inside.
I watched him take the meat off and even to the point of chopping the skeleton. It was just the spinal-cord hanging from two legs when I left to go inside. Upon entering both Kate and Annamarie asked "Glad you saw it?" I had to reply: "I'm glad I saw it, but not that I've seen it". The meaning wasn't quite there, the way I said that, but it meant that I had to see it just once in my life.
A few moments later one of the daughters came in with a plate of cooked liver, salad, and onions. Apparently the liver is the best part as they offered it to the guests first. Both Kate and I had some while Annamarie ate the salad. While being in the Gambia you eat strange things, although liver isn't quite as strange; the other month I had brain chwarma, so eating a liver that I just saw ten minutes being taken out of an animal didn't phase me that much.
About an hour later the children come into the room with a huge food bowl and announce the lunch is ready and we could go to the table. At first, when I saw the food bowl I thought we would all be eating out of it; but when she said 'the table' I realized it was the same as Thanksgiving: adults in one table, the children at the other. Except here it's the adults eating out of plates at the table and children all eating together out of a foodbowl. Everyone was dressed in their "Sunday best".
The lunch was ram meat, vegetables ("vege-tables" they call them), rice, wonjo (similar to kool-aid but more sweet), and other assortments. We decided to leave soon after lunch and was surprised that they expected us to stay for dinner, around eight. Apparantly dinner was the main course and lunch was just an appetizer. We were full already and politely left.
The next day, Monday, children were everywhere asking for hand-outs. This is similar to Halloween except here they all run all over the place all day asking anyone and everyone for money, candy, and other items. By night-time when I was walking to the PC Office it was a mad-house! If all these kids were college students they would be calling in the National Guard, you have a riot on your hands! All joking aside, it was peaceful but annoying when walking:
"toubob, give me dalasi."
"toubob, give me ten dalasi."
"toubob, give me hundred dalasi."
And the real kicker: "toubob, give me your watch."
Two days of celebration ended in a headache trying to survive the onslaught of the kids.
-MIke
posted by Mike | 2:15 PM
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