Celebrating the holy day of Tobaski

Jarietta & Kujah Tobaski-SmallAn excerpt from Tubob: Two Years in West Africa with the Peace Corps

 

The holy Muslim day of Tobaski approached. Tobaski, the feast of sacrifice, is marked by the ritual of slaughtering sheep. We learned that it can be a stressful time for men because they feel duty-bound to buy a sheep, even if they have to borrow money. Bruce and I discussed it and decided to give our close neighbors, Mosalif and Binta, a gift of money.

About a week before the event, when he came for his morning greetings, we gave Molsalif one hundred dalasi and told him it was for their Tobaski. Overwhelmed, he hardly knew what to say. We heard him call his wife’s name “Binta!” when he returned to their hut.

Close to the time of Tobaski, Bruce saw several men leading a string of sheep to the river for the traditional washing of animals before the slaughter.

On Tobaski, Mosalif, Binta and the girls stopped by, all looking resplendent with new clothes. They were sharing Tobaski with Binta’s cousin who lived in Basse and Mosalif had helped purchase the sheep and other food for their feast.

After work the next day, the Health Centre staff had a dinner party with Tobaski leftovers. The cook made a wonderful stew and served it over millet, a grain grown in The Gambia. Orderlies carried two tables outside where they set up the feast. The men brought the food out on a board and set it on the table.

I wasn’t prepared for the sudden rush to the table, nor was I sure what to do with myself. It was as though these people hadn’t eaten for days and had finally found food. An orderly saw my confusion and took me under his protective wing. I was touched by his concern.

“Mariama, I will help you. You have to learn to act quickly or the food will be gone!” Many ate with their fingers from a common bowl, but a few plates had been set on the table, together with spoons.

He handed me a full plate. I thanked him, found a place to sit and enjoyed the marvelous food. One of the orderlies fished the sheep skull out of the stew pot. While we ate, the skull sat on the table, dripping broth and grinning.

After the meal, one of the orderlies grabbed the skull and threw it to another guy and off they went, playing with it like it was a football. Everyone laughed. Although I thought it ghoulish, I couldn’t help but laugh, too.

I felt honored to share this special day with my friends and co-workers.