Yesterday in Kolda we celebrated Korite .[1], or Eid al Fitr to the rest of the Muslim world, one of the biggest festivals of the year. Korite celebrates the end of Ramadan.[1], a month of fasting and cleaning of the heart. People started the day by going to the mosque together to pray. I told people as a Christian[1] I did not want to pretend the pray like a Muslim and thus offend god. Then women began preparing a special communal lunch of cous cous and fonio with generous helpings of meat. Way too much food was cooked, but none of it went to waste as extra food is immediately sent to families with less means. As my friend Papa Daio proudly exclaimed in the evening “Today I ate more meat than rice!”
After lunch I went around and greeted the compounds in my neighborhood, followed everywhere by children demanding salibo (small candies or coins). Greeting the neighborhood is the main part of the holiday, especially women and young men, who use it as an opportunity to walk around and flaunt their fancy outfits. My tailor friend said some women spend 25,000 to 40,000 CFA (between 50 and 80 US$) on their outfits. Unsurprisingly some here (generally heads of households who end up paying for everything) complain that people eat all their money on the holidays, and then are left hungry the day afterwards.
That being said, the main point of Korite or any holiday is to strengthen communal bonds, which was definitely palpable. I retired early around 10ish, but many people continued making the rounds, hanging out, and drinking tea into the early hours of the morning. My friend Mamadou Daio summed up the holiday well – “some people spend a lot of money on their clothes, but what is more important is when they eat and drink until they are full, and they sit under the tree drinking tea and talking with their neighbors.”
Mustafa, Karim and Aliou, all host brothers, put on their finery to go to the Mosque in the morning.
Usman Daio returning from the Mosque.
Laman and other hair stylsts get lots of business before Korite.
Karim Baldes new haircut, a style known here as “Zulu”
Abdoulaye Djamanka waits to get this monstrosity shaved out of his head.
Basiru Balde, one of my host brothers, hanging at his fathers boutique.
Issa gets to work on a cow leg in preparation for lunch.
Young girls showing off their new threads.
Tenan Daio takes a quick break from cooking for a photo with her son Aliou.
Papa Daio relaxs with a bucket of sugary drink.
My host dad, Ibou Balde, poses like a patron outside his boutique.
He set up a small “promotion” on onions, potatoes and bullion for the holidays.
Ibrahima was sent out to get a block of ice on a bike that was a couple sizes too big.
After shaving my head some people thought I looked like a Nar (Arab).
Omar stands at the inersection of tradition and modernity, gangsta hats and lime green threads.
Samba poses with his Nike swish haircut.
Roving neighborhood boys demanding candies and coins from unsuspecting victims.
Papa and Eunica spending time together as the sun sets.
Moona Daio, one of my host mothers, while she walks around greeting neighborhood.
Fatoumata Daio doing the rounds in her lime green basin outfit.
No food gets wasted with all the kids in my compound.
[1] Easier and better for my credibility than being an agnostic at worst, and a Bokononist at best.
Aduna ko Kumpa 