Happy Tabaski!

Today we  celebrated la fête du mouton, or Tabaski, or what I've been calling the sheep festival with the family of one of my Malian colleagues, Khady.

In preparation for Tabaski, there were hundreds of sheep rounded up at the market to be brought home for the feast. I tried to get a picture of all the sheeps hanging out in the market, oblivious that they were about to become a lot of people's dinners, but we only passed by in taxis and with the way les taximan drive here, it would have been a blur or white fur, red sand and wood stalls.

Khady stopped by our hostel and helped us get a taxi (re: negotiated a fair price for us toubabu) and showed the way by cruising through the refreshingly empty streets on her moto. I feel like I actually got to see the city today since I wasn't clutching the passenger handle on the verge of cardiac arrest while we rode. On the way we passed closed boutiques, empty street stalls and a soccor field that was full of mostly men and boys uniting for an extra, holiday prayer.

 Here we are in our adoptive family's neighbourhood. Tires take a beating, natch.

 Oh Hai! (He has no idea what is about to go down).

The men pray before cutting the sheep's throat. The  head of the famiily seemed happy that I wanted to take a picture.

I turned my camera off right before the act, and he told me I should photograph the next one, because that is how it's done in the Muslim world and it is important to them, so I took a picture of the next sheep meeting his maker at my host's urging.

In short, the next photos may offend vegetarians, vegans, pescetarians, flexetarians and basically anyone besides tremendo-meatarians, but it was an important part of the experience.

They pour water on the wound to make sure all the blood is gone.

Now that the sheep are dead, the men's work is done for the day (besides prayer) and the women's work begins and continues throughout the entire day. Here we're cleaning the fat from the meat.

Skewering sheep livers.

Our first mouton dish of the day.

Lunch was pasta mixed with sheep and vegetables that you eat with your hands.

The ladies dismissed us after lunch and we spent the rest of the afternoon talking with the men and playing with the kids.

The two in the back were particularly fun. 

Late in the afternoon, when the heat was its most stifling, we moved outside for a "porch party."

For supper, they gave us an entire leg to split three-ways, a massive tray of bleach-water-rinsed salad and french fries. Evidently, we were really excited about the latter. 

 In sum, the three of us were treated with the exceptional hospitality that Mali is famous for. This invitation turned into other invitations, this visit turned into a visit at a neighbor's which turned into more invitations for dinner, rides, nights out in Bamako, possible post-mandate escort to Timbuktu and as always, marriage proposals.

Marriage proposals to date: 2