The Pilgrimage of the Goat

It feels like so much has happened in village since the last time I have written but it has only been a month. I must admit that I am at quite a loss as to where to begin.

I got back for my week stint in Ouaga just in time to begin preparing for the last of the holidays, the muslim holiday of Tabaski. When I asked what Tabaski was exactly and what its relavence to Islam was, the answer I always received was, "It is the holiday of the goat." I would always then ask "Why?" And the responce was always, "Because that is when we slaughter a goat." Upon further questioning, I was never able to extract exactly what the goat meant to the holiday/religion. That is Burkina for you.

In the days before Tabaski I was scolded by my muslim friends in village for not yet visiting the mosque. Apparantly Sofiata is an Islamic name and since my name is muslim, I must surely be muslim and go to prayer. I was jokingly warned that I better get myself to prayer on Tabaski.

The night before we had the now-traditional all night dance party at my second family's house. The day of Tabaski came and I wore my long skirt and long sleeve shirt as well as the biggest scarf I have and headed for the mosque. On the way there my second family, who is muslim, stopped me. My scarf was apparently not large enough so I had to borrow one of theirs and they had to tie it a specific way. I was also sent toward a large tree in village in the opposite way of the mosque where prayers were going to be held.

I came upon a group of people who were preforming a pilgrimage on their way to the tree. The men were in front praying and shooting guns while the women followed behind. As we neared the tree three other groups came from other directions and we all arrived at the same time.

We sat out our mats and all prayed. I was in the back with the other women and my daughter. About half way through my second father, who is the butcher (hurray for free meat in village) left and later returned with a goat in tow. The imans then proceeded to slaughter the goat to "show the people the proper way to sacrifice it." I was just glad I was in the back!

After prayers finished my friend Abdul called me up to where the men were sitting and we all posed for a picture. It was a strange feeling being the only women allowed in the men's section especially since my scarf had fallen by that point. I waited around hoping for an invite somewhere.

Two of my theater guys asked me to their house to celebrate and we spent the whole day chatting, eating and drinking tea and zoomkoom (dont ask because you dont want to know what it is). I went home in the evening only to be told that I was expected at my second family's dinner. Needless to say I was quite well fed that day.

My theater troupe has kept me busy planning the bike-a-thon (you will all be hit up for money very soon so be prepared) and practicing their hour long play that they preformed during our biggest market day of the month. I am also planning a festival for women's day on march 8th. Is this my dream job or what I get to plan festivals (you know I secretly pretend it is going to be like bonnaroo or acl fest).

This is also the season of funerals. Almost everyday there is a funeral in one of the surrounding villages. I funeral is different from an enternment and is basically a two day party (held now because no one is working for these three months) to celebrate the persons life. Kinda like a Jazz funeral without the good music or bourbon. It is still strange to me to hear that this is the funeral season, however.

My family held a funeral for three women who died in our courtyard. My petite mom, the last of my dad's three wives, made me drink dolo and follow the drums around dancing (I got told that I was not a good Muslim for drinking the dolo by the way). The drummers and dancers went around to each courtyard carrying knives and a goat which they killed at the house of each father(Note: this is not apparently the best time to be a goat in Burkina). I made bissap (hibiscus tea) and gateau (beignets). I shared them with the women who later came into my courtyard singing another song they made up for me. It was their way of saying thank you. My friend Souley told me that one of the lines was, "The beautiful stranger who asked for a place in our house." So at least it was nice things they were singing.

I was invited last monday to go to a wedding. Actually I was invited to be in the groom's wedding party. It was actually kind of a let down because their was a lot of waiting involved. All of the grooms friends gathered at the grooms house and we went to the financee's parents house where the girl was hidden. The groom was sent to "find" the girl and then paid for her and was able to take her with him to his house. Of course an all night dance party ensued with the eating of cola nuts (but not by me). It was a bit strange because the couple already had a five year old daughter and the wife had been living with the husbands family. I asked people about this and they told me that now the couple were "officially" married and before the groom had just "stolen" the wife. It was my first animist celebration.

Next week we will finally climb the famed Mt Sanguie. I am looking forward to it and have invited five village friends to go with me. I will write about it when I go to Ouaga at the end of next week.