Today is Kourité, the day dedicated to celebrating the end of Ramadan. In the morning, I headed down the street to the bank, a little surprised that nothing seemed different in town. On my way, I had the awkward experience of being approached by a beggar child who, at that moment, actually had more money than I did (I was down to the equivalent of less than 50 cents). I was really excited to share this day with a Muslim family and observe how they celebrate after fasting for the past four weeks. It turned out to be a very bizarre day, nothing at all like I had expected. At first, we just sat around outside with the family, talking. However, when it came time to eat lunch, the four of us interns were segregated away from the family, in our own room, with our own food, and our own company. I have to admit though, the food was delicious. It was some of the best Yassa I’ve had, accompanied by some really good Bissap (a sweet, sugary drink made from hibiscus leaves and flowers). The rhetorical question was posed during our time away from the family, as we were still baffled by being segregated, “What would happen if a group of black people came to your home in North America or Europe, and you ushered them away from the rest of the family into their own room with their own, separate meal?” That would never fly where any of us were from. But, that’s how things are here. At one point during our weird, isolated afternoon, all of the Senegalese people around town got dressed up and the kids participated in “African Halloween,” walking through the town, stopping at houses and collecting small change. This was about the extent of the festivities that I witnessed today. I would assume though, that this day is just like any major holiday in any country: some families celebrate it more than others. And we happened to end up with a family that was more reserved in their celebrations.
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