Circling the Baobabs: Korite bi

I know why it's worth it to fast now: to break the fast. One long month of Ramadan and I was happy to see the people around me stuffing their faces in the middle of the day again, happy to see them going out at night, happy to see the streets filled again, and the night clubs grooving, and the the music playing. The flow is back in Dakar, and I was missing it. That was my fast, I selfishly conclude.

I woke up Korite morning feeling the holiday, like home on Thanksgiving or Christmas. I awoke and ate a big bowl of millet and yogurt with a few interspersed raisons. And then people started coming and going bringing dishes and asking forgiveness of the members of the family. My mom gave Zodiac and I a long speech about sharing the house with her, of being away from our families, of appreciation. Later in the day, about 3, we ate again, a big tasteful meal of chicken, fries, onion sauce, little pasta noodles, peas, and fresh carrots (y0!). The day was loungeful and easy, napping and reading, and just being, smiling contently, and with a full stomach. Evening time came and we all begin donning our boubous -- long, grand, flowing, dresses usually consisting of a sarong or skirt on the bottom and a large dress on the top. Then we took pictures and paraded around the neighborhood visiting the homes of the other American students. My maman practically insisted that I go out dancing (il faut dancer ce soir), and I didn't need much convincing. As a 'ported' my boubou out into the night I realized just how elegant and feminine and dignified I felt even in such a formless baggy outfit. I was expecting jeers and mocking when I stepped out--a toubab in traditional Senegalese dress who does she think she is? But instead, I found people smiling and appreciative and even the vendor at the nescafe stand was impressed enough to give us our midnight coffees for free. And that was Korite, bi.