Tabaski

It’s the time of year in Senegal where we start seeing loads of sheep for sale on most busy corners in town. They’re usually kept under a white pop-up shade tent to keep them out of the blazing sun. Or they’re stuffed onto roof racks of taxis or a whole herd of them are on top of buses, with the driver hoping he secured them enough for the bumpy roads.

When you think “sheep,” you probably picture a plump, wooly creature. Here, we have short-haired sheep and they are somewhat difficult to tell apart from goats. We’ve learned that if the tail sticks up in the air, it’s a goat; if it falls downward, it’s a sheep. Sheep are more valuable and have nicer meat than goats. The price of an average sheep once it’s ready to slaughter is between 1 month’s labor (minimum wage) up to 4 month’s labor for a 3-year-old ram.

Why all the sheep? It’s the biggest feast of the year on Friday: Tabaski. The holiday celebrates Abraham’s almost-sacrifice of Ishmael (not Isaac), when an angel stopped him from killing his son and a ram was killed instead. It falls at the end of the Islamic calendar year so it changes each year based on the lunar cycle. The feast usually lasts 2-4 days and each family is expected to buy and slaughter their own sheep. Can you imagine spending $8,000 dollars on a holiday meal (if you make $2000 per month)?  Along with an expensive meal, it’s normal to have new clothes made for the whole family, buy new shoes for the kids, have your hair braided, give monetary gifts to the poor, and if you live far away from family, send money. Markets and street corners start getting busy a good month before the actual holiday. (Think Black Friday until Dec 24^th.)

Tabaski is the day to offer forgiveness and accept forgiveness from everyone you know. The greeting on the street and in homes is different that day. Effectively, instead of “Hello, how are you?” it’s “Hello, how are you? Forgive me.”  I’ve asked a couple Senegalese friends what this forgiveness looks/feels like in their homes. The answer I’ve gotten is that it’s not real forgiveness. “People say they forgive, but then by the end of the meal they are fighting with each other or gossiping about a family member.”

And what does this holiday mean for the large number of Senegalese who are living hand to mouth each day? It means that when my friend’s father calls from the big city and says, “Why haven’t you sent me money for Tabaski?” she has to repeatedly lie and say that she will do her best to find money to send him, knowing she’ll have to choose to either send the $4 that she gets that day to her father, or choose to feed her kids. Choosing the latter causes her to lose family honor and connection, and makes her less able to call on her father or siblings in the future if she is in desperate need of money. She also feels shame for not being able to celebrate the holiday as she should, with new clothes, fancy hair and a nice fat sheep. Year after year her relational poverty leads her deeper into physical poverty, and vice versa.

Perhaps her only hope is that on the day of the holiday, she can call up her father and ask forgiveness, and at least he has to say he forgives her.

What would it look like to be transformed by a greater sacrifice, Jesus, who went up the mountain in submission to his Father and gave his own life for the forgiveness of all who would believe in him? Would the forgiveness translate into grace for family members and care for those less fortunate (without expecting something back)?   

(J)