26.11.04 - 14:26

The end of the Muslim month of fasting - Ramadan - brings a couple days of mad partying. It is near obligatory to buy yourself a nice new outfit and "promenade" round town to wish your friends and neighbors a happy holiday. It is also expected that those who are wealthy, like (arguably) I am, will give gifts to those in need (arguably everyone else.) So what follows is my diary entry from that day, November 14.

I wore a lime green boubou that I bought last year, but have only worn once. I went over to the Traore compound around 11am and gave them my gifts: a large green carafe with six matching cups, a green tray, a bag of lollipops, and a set of plastic kitchen toys for the kids. They were well received. I hope I've finally hit on the right things to give them - they usually accept my gifts with gratitude, but no great excitement.

I drank zriig with my mother Noumah and the children until Yahya came. We ate lunch - couscous with raw onions and beef, apparently the standard end-of-Ramadan fare - with his old crony from next door. The two old men are so cute together! Very much at ease in each other's company and always poking fun at one another. "Look at how that lunatic is eating! He really is crazy! Hey, don't you know that you should be eating with your hand like this? What a lunatic." "Lalla, no, tell me who is REALLY the crazy one. Do you know him at all? He's..." and which ever old man it is twirls a forefinger at his temple to indicate a lack of mental acuity. Always, they both laugh uproariously after this.

They went to the mosque to pray after lunch, and then I took their picture. They were resplendent in their new boubous and hats, and were very proud of being photographed.

Then a new swarm of locusts exploded through the sky. I keep thinking each swarm will be the last, that the cold will kill them or head them off. But then they come again, a myriad Horsemen of Death.

So despite the holiday, the celebration of food and plenty, Yahya changed into a raggedy old boubou and marched off to his garden in an attempt to protect his new seedlings.

I left with him, taking more locust photographs on the way. Then I visited several families, having tea with each and becoming, shall we say, extremely hopped up on all the caffeine and sugar.

Everywhere I went, I was beseiged by children seeking douna (gifts). This year, I was finally prepared and armed with sacks of candy left over from Hallowe'en. When one child spots you, they all rush as one school of deadly fish and converge on you. The temptation is always to throw a handful of candy in the opposite direction and run for your life. But it wouldn't be seemly for a woman attempting to garner respect in a community to be intimidated by a group of brats. But it's the children who can smell your fear.

In any case, a group of my women friends were preparing goody bags of biscuits and candy for a baptism the next day. (Fati gave birth to a healthy boy! I'm so happy and relieved! His name is Abdoul and he received a shirt from Gap Kids as a baptism present - thanks, Witchy, for sending those!)

I found my guy friends - Moussa and Abdurachman - and took their picture by the lake. Then I went back with them to visit an 18-year old friend of mine - Khadeja. I showed her that I was wearing the ring she gave me last Eid (holiday) and she gave me an identical one to stack on top of it. "Each Eid, I'll give you one," she promised. I reciprocated with a ring I'd bought in Kiffa for the express purpose of giving it away. (Cultural note: when people compliment you, it's a way of asking for the admired object. Women constantly exchange jewelry in this way. As I prefer to keep much of my US jewelry, I've been known to buy cheap baubles and wear them in order to bestow them on the first person who likes them.)

At last, I went back to Yahya's for a dinner of left over couscous and rice porridge (the porridge, they say, is good after you've overeaten.) Another of Yahya's friends was there, whom Yahya identifies always as "the one with no eye." It seems that he hit a sheep with a stick, which broke and flew into his eye and blinded him. ("I don't know what happened to the sheep," Yahya said.)

I finally got to sleep around 11pm ands heard, again, the sounds of a heavy rain. The locusts had come back and were settling in my trees.

Ach. But even if there won't be much food this year, the day had been imbued with a sense of celebration, camaraderie, and love.

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