Korite

The final day of Ramadan was on Sunday, and Monday was Korite. Everyone I asked about it spoke as if it were an enormous all day party filled with socializing, food and dancing. In effect, the best Muslim party ever.

I woke up, showered, and was handed a white boubou (traditional Senegalese dress) by my host mother as soon as I emerged from the bathroom. I donned the skirt, the top and did my best to cover my hair with the white strip of cloth meant to be a veil, though it was made of cotton and so wasn't very pliable. Marie (my host sister), Emily (the other American student I've been living with in Yoff) and I then set out for the mosque. I'm pretty positive that every single person living in Yoff was walking in the street with us, and nearly everyone was dressed in white. Those who weren't wearing white were at least dressed up in light blue tunics or something of the sort.

We made our way against the tide of people going to the University of Ramadan, and ended up at the mosque on the beach. Outside of the entrance, where we kicked off our sandals, were stationed several crippled men and children begging for money. I had nothing to give, though, and walked by muttering "babanen" apologetically (babanen = next time, in Wolof). We stepped onto the sand in the mosque's lot and I was utterly overwhelmed. Lines of men and women, all facing Mecca, were formed, and again, nearly everyone was wearing white except for a few rebels. We took our places in a line of women and sat down in the sand. And waited. And waited. And then waited some more. My head veil refused to remain on my head and slipped down my neck infuriatingly often. Sweat trickled down my back, legs and chest. The sun was blinding, especially coupled with the mass of white cloth and the sand. I was miserable and simultaneously in awe of the beauty of the scene.

Some signal was given and the entire congregation of people stood at once. Emily and I quickly followed in suit, and then mimicked all of the prayer motions of the hundreds of people. As I knelt with my forhead against the sand, I half wished I belonged to a religion that could move so many people. The other half of me was still too hot to care. The prayer took no more than 5 minutes, and soon we were back on the street.

The rest of the day I spent alone. There was no party and no socializing. I listened to music, and played exactly one trillion games of solitaire before I decided I was going to have to kill myself from boredom. Luckily Julie came along and saved me and we retreated to her house ...

I'll write about our evening excitement later.