Celebrating Eid in Senegal

West African culture has always fascinated me. Here a man in his artisan shop.

In the past ten years, I’ve tried to diversify my travels as much as possible.  East Asia, South East Asia, India, nearly all of Europe, Caribbean, Central and South America, North Africa and the Middle East.  There are a few popular places I’ve yet to visit like Australia, New Zealand, Russia, Scandinavia, Brazil, and Argentina.  But none have intrigued me as much as Sub-Sahara Africa.  I often asked myself, why not the bottom half of Africa?  And my conclusion is, most people decide where to go from what they’re exposed to through social media and the word of mouth of other travelers.  Rarely, have I met people who have ventured through Africa, minus the safari package tours or the non-profit organization that attract the young humanitarian looking to do aid work.  That being said, I’ve only met a handful of true backpackers who have actually done it.  And every single one of them has had nothing but wonderful things to say about their experiences in Africa. 

the humanitarian

the conservationist

A few years ago, I began researching possible countries in the sub-continent to backpack and unfortunately, there is very little useful or inspiring information on the Internet.  It was discouraging, because as backpacking goes, one relies greatly on reliable transportation, affordable accommodations, activities to pass the time, and a chance to meet other travelers along the way.  In comparison to other popular backpacker locations for these reasons, Sub-Sahara Africa seemed questionable to say the least.

Fortunately, I had an invitation from a good friend, Fatou, who I’ve met here in Miami years ago.  She goes back to her home of Senegal quite often.  Now, more often than ever, because she recently left her career in Florida to start a business in West Africa and now splits her time between Miami, Paris, Dakar, and Abidjan.  After returning from my South American adventure in August 2016, Fatou and our friend Megan met up over Chinese stir-fry at a North Miami hole in the wall restaurant and made a pact to meet up in Senegal for the end of the Muslim holiday of Ramadan in the summer 2017.

Our trip started in the north in Saint Louis and ended in the south near the border with Gambia

As the year quickly passed, I knew I made the right decision.  It’s easy to miss what’s going on in certain parts of the world because much of the news focuses on conflict and instability.  Western Africa gets little attention in comparison of travel destinations.  But for a place like Senegal, the country is as stable as they come.  No revolutions or coup d'état since their independence.  The economy is growing nicely at 4.5% GDP, with lots of foreign investments.  Having a friend who has family there helps, considering French and Wolof is the primary languages spoken and I speak neither. 

Megan and Fatou centered are friends of mine from Miami.  Everyone assumed Megan was my wife.

After nearly two weeks traveling through Spain, I was on a direct flight from Barcelona to Dakar, Senegal to meet Fatou and Megan.  We didn’t stay long in the capital, as I arrived late in the night and we were due at her aunt’s side of the family in Saint Louis, which is about a six-hour drive to the north, on the border with Mauritania.  We arrived to the dusty town in the Sahel about mid morning, exhausted.  To my surprise, Fatou’s aunt’s house was enormous.  A four storied concrete house with a spacious central courtyard and plenty of windows for light and natural AC.  There must be about ten rooms per floor.  Several families live in the complex: aunts, uncles, and cousins under one roof.  Each floor was like it’s own city block!  It truly embodied the saying, “It takes a village to raise a child”. 

The Crib

spend majority time eating

In addition to Megan and I, there were other family members who arrived from abroad who had come to visit for the celebration of Eid.  Eid is like Thanksgiving with a Muslim touch.  It’s the breaking of a month long fast, where family and neighbors indulge in visits to conclude a month of fasting, delicious meals all day long, prayers, alms, and just spending quality time within one’s community.  


It was nice, to not have anything to do, but chill for a few days.  The house was full of people coming and going.  The women, sitting around catching up on what’s new.  Some were in the kitchen prepping meals, laboring tirelessly over a gas stove, but most are just chatting.  Preparing the daily meals goes on all day long, as the family will be treated to a royal feast. 

preparing miracles in the kitchen (curtesy of Megan O'Brien) 

Fatou’s cousins, from San Francisco and Washington D.C. arrived with suitcases of everything you can imagine from Wal-Mart and Costco.  This is a common sight for any immigrant who returns home to the motherland from the US.  I remember my mom doing this same exact thing when we would visit our Japanese relatives when I was a young child.  Mom would bring everything from the grocery store to her family in the form of gifts.  It’s sort of a status thing to have American products and brands brought home to family who have no other way to purchase these items without a connection abroad. 

Instant coffee, economy sugar, and Play Doh are just some of the things Senegalese living abroad bring home for family. (curtesy of Megan O'Brien) 

American born Senegalese joying their summer in Senegal

Seeing their young Americanized children play with their Senegalese cousins, also reminded me of my youth when I’d meet up with my Japanese cousins… playing and the sharing of toys… spontaneous games, we came up with, even though we didn’t speak the same language fluently.  Feeling awkward for being so foreign and not speaking my mother’s tongue, but kids always seem to connect well without the insecurities and inadequacies we develop as adults.  I know the young American cousins were eager to leave and get back “home”, but later in life… they will cherish these precious moments in Senegal with their family across the pond.

American born Senegalese hanging out with his Senegalese cousins during Eid

Fatou and her cousins

The day’s tempo ranged from chillaxing at the house, to the sudden visits of meeting with a relative or neighbor nearby.  We’d move like snails in a heat wave, because everyone has to look their best.  We’d leave the house and the ladies were decked out in brilliant patterns of both contrasting and complimentary colored, dressed with matching head wraps.  I felt a bit underdressed for the occasion, but I was completely fine wearing my shorts and t-shirt. 

looking fly is a must when you make the rounds to see friends and family (curtesy of Megan O'Brien) 

Each time we’d return to the house, the next meal was ready to be served.  Huge servings of porridge, served with yogurt and a peanut sauce that was surprisingly good for breakfast.  For lunch, it was massive communal plates of rice, mixed with meats and vegetables.  You’d really have to pace yourself, because you know you’d be eating from a bottomless buffet for the rest of Eid.  The main feast of dinner was yet to come.  Eyes always seemed bigger than one’s stomach!

a hand is used for the communal feasts

Fatou purchasing shoes and clothes for the street kids

But first, Fatou, decided there is one custom that she needed to attend to.  Alms.  One of the Five Pillars of Islam is charity.  On this special day of Eid, she ded her duty as a faithful Muslim and took us with her to the local market.  There, she bought about twenty pairs of shoes and we went to a nearby orphanage, which also acted as a koranic school.  We met with the “headmaster” for a few minutes.  He thanked Fatou and offered us tea, but we respectfully declined, as we had to get back for dinner.  The sun sets earlier than I’m use to because we are closer to the equator.  It seemed later than it was, and we didn’t want to be late for the main meal. 

We returned, and the live goat that was shown to us the night before was now a dead goat waiting to be devoured by Fatou’s family.  It’s the custom to sacrifice a live goat for Eid.  The amazing thing about this whole experience of Eid is that no alcohol was consumed.  In Senegal, where 90% of the population is Muslim, alcohol is not such a big part of the culture.  It was interesting to compare to how, in American culture, where most come from Christian traditions; alcohol is such a big part of the celebration.    

a relative reads the Koran in the courtyard

I’m sure each household is different, but according to Fatou, Senegalese tend to follow tradition a bit more than in American society.  In this house, the radio station played Islamic music… at least during Ramadan, which maintained the religious significance of the celebration. It was like listening to carols on Christmas day. 

Uncles arrived in traditional attire, returning from or going to the local mosque. Modest and unassuming they retreated into one of the rooms upstairs.  A teenage nephew, about seventeen, began to sing beautiful koranic verses, while the family approved with their full attention.  The neighborhood girls sporadically arrived to the house to give respect to the elders in exchange for small change or candy, but not without a curtsy, light handshake, and three kisses on the cheek to the adults. 

neighborhood kids wait by the door for candy or small change

The adults are busy catching up, while so many of the neighborhood kids waited patiently in the foyer with pitiful looks on their faces, waiting for a few coins or some candy before they ran off to the next neighbor’s house. 

older cousins leading in prayer

The Senegalese raised nieces and nephews led their American cousins in prayer, instilling the traditions of Islam, which is not as strong in the US.  Imagine trying to celebrate Christmas in a country where less than 2% of the population are Christian.  You’ll start to understand how influential one’s Islamic community is in maintaining one’s customs and traditions.  “It takes a village to raise a child” is omnipresent from the food being prepared, to the prayers being spoken.  Thanks to my friend Fatou, I had the unique opportunity, to not only witness, but also participate in such an intimate tradition. 

tea time with Fatou and some of her cousins

And this was only the first day of a two-week trip through Senegal.  I couldn’t have asked for a more intimate experience than the one she created in a simple invitation just a year before.  For someone, I’ve known for nearly ten years, this was her turf.  This was a chance for her to school me on what it means to be a foreigner in another country very different than my own.  True friendships must be bilateral.  They must allow room for reciprocity.  And after the experience I’ve had in Senegal, I consider our friendship stronger, healthier, and with more understanding of the saying, “It takes a village to raise a child”.   

getting my grub