"Yeah, well -- we need to go. We need to do it for the 'family' and that is that. You both had your fun day yesterday and this is what we will do today. Besides they will serve some West African food...(that's it! If nothing else, appeal to their stomachs).
The practice of commemorating the passing away of a loved one after 40 days is widely observed by many Muslim cultures. In West Africa, there is the reading of the entire Qur'an by individuals who take one of the 30 sections comprising the whole book, and once all sections have been read, the supplication (du'a) is made by someone in the community or an Imam (religious cleric).
The affair was to have started at 1 pm, my kids and I got there at 3 -- and still there were only a handful of people there reading the Qur'an. The men were mostly reading, sitting on the floor with their backs pressed against the wall. The women were seated on foldable chairs, talking quietly among themselves; others, with prayer beads between forefinger and thumb. Sigh!... Again, I miscalculated. This things never really start on time...the schedule governed by either "African time" or "Muslim time"...my kids always respectful and well-mannered, sat down and waited...(Ha, for sure I will hear about it later! My son had purposely not eaten lunch, and from across the room I saw him give me THAT look!)
Many people came up to me to greet me and show respect. After asking how everyone in the family was, they commented on how the kids have grown so much from when they remembered...these last two children, forever engraved in memories as a toddler or baby. Yes, time does goes by fast! I, in turn, ask about their families...
Finally the rest of the bereaved party arrived and we prayed the sunset prayers. There was a flurry of activity after that -- mats to be used as table cloths were unfolded, serving utensils, paper plates, forks, spoons and cold drinks readied in tubs of ice; the aroma of spiced rice mixed with meat filled the room. Time to eat....
There were typical West African foods served that day, starting with a porridge-like dish which is mildly sweet with yogurt. What we we ate yesterday had a hint of peanut butter. Then the huge trays of "chebbi" rice with either chicken, fish or lamb and abundant garnishes of cabbage, yams, peppers and other vegetables. There were roasted chicken and other meat dishes as well. One dish whose name I couldn't pronounce was bathed in textured, deep-cream colored sauce with greens and a combination of fish and meat. Fresh fruits and hot and cold drinks are also plentiful. I had several cups of Cafe' Touba, straight from Senegal -- the rich dark liquid, heavily sweetened with sugar was quite strong...
My son a towering 14 year old sat and ate with the men, mostly from Senegal and Gambia. My daughter and I, were with the women; she running after her little nephew and I enjoying the visit with some of the "sisters" I haven't seen in a while. I sat next to the Imam's wife as she insisted I sit next to her; a kindly-looking woman who held and pressed my hand and asked about my husband. She is Moroccan, her fair skin made her stand out in the crowd of all shades of brown. It was a welcome break for me to sit amidst this group and be a guest -- for a change. Times like this, getting together communally around food for whatever commemoration or celebration is what life is all about.
