Feastin' at Ramadan's end...

My first experience with a celebration in my new village was 'Selideni' (Eid ul-Fitr), the holiday celebrating the end of Ramadan, Islam’s holy month of fasting. On Thursday, September 9th, Lassana, my homologue, guided me to an open field between the two primary school buildings in village for prayer. After the hour-and-a-half prayer session, we were led to a small crossroads in the middle of the village, where women from each concession came and placed a meal in the middle of the men gathered. Each meal was served in a communal bowl, and after the elder got up and mixed all of the sauces, there was a mad-dash for the men to grab what they saw was the best-made dish. To my surprise, they even allowed some of the kids to run and swipe the best dishes, deviously running clear across the village to eat away from the elder's gaze. All of the many bowls were the same dish, ‘kini ni tiga dɛgɛ naw’ (rice with peanut sauce).

After the rather rushed/chaotic lunch, men from throughout the village gathered in four separate regions within the village. Each region slaughtered one ‘misi’ (bull/male cow). The afternoon was spent slicing up the bull, making sure to make use of every ounce of meat on it’s hide. Once sliced, the men divided the bull into 85 different piles. Each pile received it’s share of muscle, fat, esophagus/stomach lining, organs, etc. Once sufficiently prepared, a man took orders for piles, and they read out each name, one by one, placing the purchased piles in bags, sacks, plastic bowls, or whatever was available at the time.

I spent the next two mornings with the village men, who bounced from concession to concession for ‘daraka’ (breakfast). For each day, we could eat at about 5 different concessions. To my surprise, each meal was exactly the same: ‘kini ni tiga dɛgɛ naw ni misi sɔgɔ.’ Apparently that is the signature dish in the region, only to be broken out for special occasions. And make no mistake, it is good. But after eating the same meal 5 times in a row, a little variety would be welcome.

The slaughter of the bull in pictures (Disclaimer for the faint of heart: Do not continue if you are at squeamish at the site of butchering):

Village men hold down the bull while the throat is cut.

The bull is cut apart, making use of every last scrap of meat.

Village men cut up the chunks of meat and divide the different types of cuts.

Village men further separate the different cuts of meat into piles.

85 distinct piles of meat are arranged on animal hides on the ground.  Each pile is sold to a family in the village, and includes a mixture of muscle, fat, organs, esophagus/stomach lining, etc.

Each purchaser's name is read aloud, and the piles of meat are placed into containers for the family to bring back to their concession.  I purchased two piles, and for a meat-enthusiast such as myself being deprived of the stuff for weeks, it was certainly a celebratory occasion.