Fastin', Feastin', and Fete-in'

After a month of fasting before Ramadan, the Muslim's in my village feted it up right. When the moon reappeared, we all ate, danced, and lounged around until I got physicall ill from overindulgence.

The day went like this:
My friend Sarah had come in the night before to visit my village. We got up that morning, dressed in our longest skirts and headed to the imam's house. I had talked to the imam a few days before to ask permission to pray and he suggested we arrive at his house in the morning to walk in a procession with his wives to the praying tree. On the way there my muslim family stopped us and let us borrow headscarves which we tied in the traditional muslim way.

After hanging out for thirty minutes we walked in a procession like we did for the fete of Tabaski. As well walked through the town to the designated tree, people joined in from all sides. Finally we got to the main road where the three processions from each direction of the village met together, sited a prayer, and began shooting off guns. Then we all got to the prayer tree. Sara and I sat in the back with the women but during the middle of prayer the imam pointed out to the two whities and welcomed us. He told everyone our muslim names (mine is Sofiata and Sara's is Sarata.

After prayer finished we had our pictures taken by the village photographer and then headed to my second family's house. This is the family of Bregetou. We ate and hung out for a while. My friend Abdul stopped by. Then Sara and I decided to head to the house. Bregetou and I had to prepare something to take to her family's that night for the big dinner and Sara and I drank the tea that they make here (sort of like Arab tea). After reposing for a few hours we went back to the imam's. We hung out there, ate again and drank more tea. Then we passed by my friend Souley's house, ate, drank tea and bissap (hibiscus tea) and listened to music. It was getting dark then so we headed back to my family's house. We ate again and the two mom's decided I needed to paint my feet. For holidays here the Muslims dye their hands and feet in a hena like fashion only they use hair dye instead of hena. My mom painted stripes on my feet and then the other mom paint my toenails purple (I would have fit in really well at an LSU tailgate). Then there was a village dance afterward.

It was a good experience. For weeks after prefect strangers would come up to me because of my feet and say "You are muslim. How was the fete?" I enjoyed celebrating it with another American as well.

Right after the fete there was a huge festival in Ouaga. It was called SIAO and it happens every other year here in Burkina. Traditional Artisans from all over Africa come for two weeks during the festival. It is a huge deal which brings in lots of tourists. I went to visit it twice and now have no money!