Ramadon ended

I wrote this almost a month ago.

It was Tuesday September 30, 2008, I can’t say that is started out like any other Tuesday because I have only been in Koutiala, Mali for two weeks now and only started going into my job last Monday and last Tuesday I was sick. Actually I still have that cold it seems to lingering.

Since I needed to do some laundry before going to work I got up early. Laundry takes a while here because I do it by hand with two rinses. As of late I have started to soak my clothes in the soapy water for several hours before doing the two rinses. So I got up made my coffee, started the wash, and enjoyed the morning air which was a cool 80 degrees.

Its been taking me thirty minutes to walk to work but last Saturday I got a bicycle so now it only takes me 15 minutes. I got my bicycle out put on my helmet and started out the door to the street. People were all walking in one direction men in Malian clothing more than usual and women with head scarf’s. I biked out to the road to the bus station that leads me to one of the main roads through Kourtiala. Looking around I realized that none of the shops were open and there continued a steady stream of people all going in one direction.

I decided to follow the stream of people. I knew this was the end of Ramadan today but didn’t know what that meant. The stream of people headed for the big open space behind the Masque near the market. The people were lining up with their pray rugs, men in front and women way in the back. I had heard that in Moribabougou where my homestay town was that they all gather in the big soccer field at the edge of town because all the people won’t fit in the Mosque. This seemed true for Koutiala as well.

I stayed on the side lines and watched as crowds of people filed into the field. A young man came up to me and greeted me first in Bambara and then French. I said the greetings I knew in Bambara and that’s not a lot considering how the Malians like to spend a long time greeting. He finally said,” photo?” I said in my broken French “pas photo.” That put him at ease and he walked away.

I watched the pray session unfold and then watched as all the people started streaming out of the field to go home. As I left I started heading for work but again noticed that all the shops where still closed and everyone seemed to be going home so I turned around and headed for home myself.

When I got to my concession all the women were busy cooking, the man of the house had just gotten back from the Mosque. I communicated with father that I had gone to the Mosque and watched the praying. He invited me to sit down and eat with them. As I sat there and visited with the women men filed through the gates and greeted us and then went in and talked to the man of the house.

As the women finished cooking they packed up about ten plates of cocuss and sauce for families in the neighborhood.

It felt like Christmas to me and no one bothered to tell me. The people where I go into work did apologize to me the next day for telling me.