This week, my family and village celebrated the Muslim holiday of Tobaski (in the US we call it Eid al-Adha). From what I understand, this holiday is to honor Abraham’s willingness to sacrifice his own son at God’s command (until God intervened and sacrificed a lamb instead). In the Gambia, the holiday comes with the full moon in the 11th lunar month. In my village, men, children, and elderly women gathered in a large field for prayer, many rams were slaughtered, women cooked all day, and everyone dressed up and visited friends and family. And we ate and ate and ate.
Like the end of Ramadan, children (and adults) got dressed up and walked from compound to compound asking for salibou. Salibou is a prayer that usually is given in the form of money. I gave out candy, though, so it felt a little like Halloween, which is not celebrated here. One really beautiful part of this holiday, I think, is the act of charity and sharing built into the traditions. When a family can afford to slaughter a ram, they only use some of the meat for the family. The rest is brought around and shared with extended family and other families in the village. The girls in my family were sent around with plates of cous and meat until every compound in my village had a share of the ram we slaughtered. If asked for salibou, people will give what they can. Even children are trained to give some of their salibou away if asked by another for salibou.
The pictures that I took of the Tobaski celebration fail to capture days of preparation (braiding hair and chasing down the ram that kept escaping), the smell of meat wafting from every compound, or the excitement of both the children and adults; I hope you get a better idea of what the holiday looked like, at least, with a few of my favorite pictures of the day.
The men in my compound dressed up and ready to head to a big open field for prayer.
My grandmother and the girls in my compound dressed up and ready to head to the big field for prayer.
The procession of men in my family from my grandfather’s compound to the field. The men are singing and being led by my one-legged grandfather, the village head.
The field where all of the men, elderly women, and children gathered to pray.
My father and various male family members slaughtering our ram.
Our ram keeping a watchful eye over the distribution of his meat. I was given several plates full of meat by various extended family members that I just added to the family’s cooking pot.
Cooking with the women was what reminded me the most of celebrating holidays at home. As with any holiday, my favorite part is the sitting around, cooking, eating, and being together.
All dressed up and ready to head to my grandfather’s compound for the feast.
Notice all of the food bowls! I celebrated by eating (way too much), laughing, and dancing with these lovely ladies.
My aunts, mom, and cousins all dressed up and ready to go out and ask for salibou. We ended up getting enough money to buy attaya and sweetened condensed milk for an evening treat.
The Gambia Files 
Loved seeing all of the colorful outfits and beautiful smiles. The scene of the many, many people praying was very moving. Nice braids, Jacy! How do you like ram?
It was good the first day…a little tough. After about the third day, I was definitely over the taste and the smell. I stopped eating it and avoided the sickness that many members of my family are now experiencing.