The 21st was Korite - or praying day as they call it. There was some debate as to whether it'd be on Sunday or Monday, but no one saw the moon on Saturday night. On Sunday night, I was sitting outside with my brother who was searching the sky for the moon. Suddenly, he screamed out with delight because he'd seen the thin sliver of it. My sister immediately began to dance, her legs moving wuickly as she hummed the rhythm and waved her head scarf all around her. My grandma and aunt came over. They recited a few lines in Arabic with their hands in their air and then recited it slowly so that i could repeat it after them. Then they, too, started to dance. Everyone was in a good mood that night. We ate rice with vegetables as usual, but it tasted even better for some reason.
The following day, Monday, was Korite, and I wasn't sure what to expect. I happily drank lots of water when I woke up and joined my family for a breakfast of couscous, fish, and sauce. I then sat and talked with my family for awhile. Everything seemed to be like normal, but I could feel excitement and anticipation in the air. Groups of kids walked past as usual, but I had trouble recognizing them because everyone had their hair braided for the occasion. The braiding process had begun on Friday, and suddenly all the children had long hair (from extensions they put in) and beautiful braids. The toddlers had even dyed their hair black (they usually have reddish hair) and black dye was also all over their scalp and foreheads. The braiding process was still occuring, with last minute touch-ups, the final people being braided, and gold paint used to decorate heads.
I moved to sit outside and was joined by some family members and women from my village. Everyone was in a great mood; it was a celebration day. I watched as children and men over 30 walked back from praying in a nearby open area used as the mosque. They were all dressed in fancy clothes, heavily starched, clean, and making the wearer seem very dignified. They were all completely unrecognizable to me in these nice clothes. I didn't feel like I was in my village anymore.
My mom called me inside to help cook lunch - an onion/macaroni sauce with chicken. (Meat is so rare in my village as is a vegetable-based dish, and everyone was so excited for this meal. I had been hearing about how good the food is on Korite for days.) I helped peel and chop potatoes and onions. Usually, the women laugh at the way I cut and cook, since I can't do it the same way they do. But this time, I requested something to use as a cutting board and received wide-spread praise for my onion-cutting abilities. To make the sauce, we added vinegar, mustard, salt, Dimbal (a Senegalese bouillon cube-essentially powdered MSG), garlic, and pepper to the onions. Then we fried the potatoes, fried the chicken, and cooked the pasta in the chikcen oil/water mixture with more Dimbal and pepper. All of this was then mixed together in a bowl. As I cooked, the radio was on, and my siblings kept coming over to dance to the music. No one could stop smiling; there are only 3 holidays that they celebrate here, and everyone gets so excited for them. The anitipation and happiness reminded me of holidays at home in the US: the cooking, hanging out, laughing, and waiting for the celebration to begin. After cooking, I went and sat outside some more while my sister finished cooking. Around 2, all the women and girls went into my grandmother's hut to eat, while the men went to my parents' hut; some neighbors also came to eat. We were given bread to use to scoop up the onion sauce. More and more chunks of bread kept being handed to me, and they ignored my refusal. I ate at least a loaf-and-a-half before I was finally successful in declining more. Still, more sauce and bread were offered to me later as was a rice dish. It was so much food, but it was so good.
Then I went back outside to drink juice (a real treat) and tea. Everyone said: Tey, nungiy noos. (Today, we enjoyed ourselves. In Wolof, enjoying oneself is synonymous with spending money. Usually, people deny having fun because they aren't spending money, but on this day, they all splurged.) By this point, a lot of kids had put on their fancy new clothes that had been bought especially for this occasion. They wandered around the village in groups by gender and age-group. They weren't playing (careful to keep their clothes clean), but were just talking and meandering (mostly walking, not even running). The girls all wore new complets of fancy shirts and wrap-skirts. The boys wore new clothes too - matching shirts and shorts/pants that were very western (in contrast to the Senegalese clothes worn by the girls). My brother had a striped collared tee and jean shorts. The boys all looked very American, which I thought was funny. All the kids were very proud of their new clothes and strutted around, smiling, and laughing even more than usual.
Around 5:30, I was told to shower and put on my nice clothes - the outfit I wore for my swearing-in ceremony. When I emerged in the outfit, I received compliments from everyone who admired my complet and told me that I was now Senegalese. I then walked from compound to compound with two of the women from my compound. The concept is to show off your nice clothes and get money for looking nice. All the younger women and girls do it, and all looked stunning in their outfits. We would walk into a compound, greet everyone, stop in some bedrooms to talk for a few minutes, and then move on. Everyone was so excited to see me in Senegalese clothes and told me that I looked very nice. I got most of the attention, and I felt bad because the two women that I were with both looked absolutely stunning and deserved attention too. I kept smiling and laughing. Three people gave me money, which I felt bad about. I gave this money to my mom, and she bought juice and milk (to make hot milk with sugar served in the shot-glass sized tea glasses) to share with everyone. We then ate dinner, still dressed in fancy clothes. I commented on my sister's pretty barette. Without even thinking, she took it out of her hair and put it in mine, ready to share with me; it was so kind and self-less of her. At night, we sat outside talking as usual and enjoying each other's company.
I was impressed by Korite - how nice everyone looked, the fancy clothes (some women even looked like they were going to a ball) and hair, and the excitement. And also by the simplicity of it all - good food, dressing up, walking around, hanging out. Nothing big or spectacular, but just good for being a break and a chance to splurge. When I think about it, we celebrate holidays so similarly at home - nice clothes, good food, hanging out, and spending time with friends and family. I went to bed, completely satisfied and with suggestions that I should look forward to Tabaski, which is even better.
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