Tabaski Come and Gone

The day is done and the smell of wood fires and singed hair is slowly leaving the house.  I haven't had much appetite all day--when you see the pictures of what transpired outside our front gate maybe you'll understand.  I refrained from putting in the most graphic pictures--in fact, there were certain happenings in the process that I turned away from and refused to capture on film.  Wimpy, I know.

Yesterday I mentioned that I wished you could smell the smells of the sheep market with us.  Today...not so much.

The celebration called for new clothes and our neighbors came back from the 9:00 prayers at the mosque all dressed up.

This little guy lives on the other side of us and we KNEW today was a special day because he actually had on clothes!  He's one of our favorites.

 The slaughter began shortly after the 9:00 prayers at the mosque.  Several neighbors joined together to do the job.  A huge job:  killing, skinning, gutting and then placing the carcasses on 6-foot skewers.  They had the system down pat.

This was the most interesting part to me.  As Rabiou was getting ready to skin the sheep, he made a small slit near the hoof and ran a stick up the leg.  Then he began blowing into that small slit and Voila! the sheep ballooned like a ...I don't know what...but it was a big huge balloon.  He said it made it much easier to skin.

 Two 6-ft long sticks (about 1 inch in diameter) were poked through each carcass and then these were arranged around the hot fire.

As we walked around the neighborhood, we saw the outdoor "barbeques" everywhere. However, I did notice that there was no grease sizzling and no smell of meat cooking.  

The heads and legs were taken home for another day.  

In the afternoon, a fella passed by to purchase the skins.

The meat cooked from noon until 7pm or so.  Then the meat, on the skewers, was taken down, placed inside the house, to be eaten tomorrow.  I don't know why they didn't eat it today.  I will have to ask them that tomorrow.  

Niamey Stockyards...Really?

Oh.My.Word.  What a fun experience we had today.  Our neighbor/nightguard has been asking to take us out to the sheep market for days.  We found a spare hour at noon and off we went.  Our neighbor was happy to share his knowledge with us. My farmer husband loved hanging out with the animals, even though they were sheep.  And I could snap pictures right and left.

Tomorrow is Tabaski, the Muslim holiday that celebrates the offering of Ishmael (not Issac) by Abraham.

A common sight in the streets this week has been sheep.
   Sheep for sale.
     Sheep being dragged along.
       Sheep loaded into taxis.
         Docile sheep with very little energy. Very docile.
 For you sheep farmers out there:  are sheep always docile or only if they live in the city and when they are  tired and hungry?

So...here are some of the pictures from our hour long excursion at noontime today.   I only wish you could smell the smells and feel the noonday sun beating down.

The number of people coming in to buy and sell sheep caused a huge traffic jam.  We got out and walked.

 The "stockyard" was a huge open area.  Each owner stood by his sheep (or cow) to barter.  The prices ranged from $50-$200 per sheep.  Each nuclear family buys one, if they can afford it, and if a man has more than one wife, he is to buy one for each wife.  Our neighbors next door will kill at least three as there are three families in the courtyard, even though they are all related.

 Don't let the warm looking clothing fool you into thinking that it's fall weather here!  It was well over 100 degrees.

Tom was delighted to visit with this farmer... informing him that he was the son of a farmer as well!

 Our neighbor was always running into people he knew.

There were piles of food for the animals.

 On the outside of the fenced off area were hundreds more coming to buy and sell.
 

 So now that the sheep is purchased, how does one get it home?
 They often come into town tied to the top of mini-vans...yes, it is full of people inside.

...along with lot of firewood needed to roast these guys.

It's not quite like calf wrestling but they did hold him down and tie three of the legs together.  That way he can still kick with one which helps with his breathing... at least that's what our wonderful guide told us.

They got the first one in...

then the second...

 

 and then all four were comfortably seated in the taxi for their ride into town.

 No taxi?  There is always the motorcycle.

If there's room for one, there is always room for one more.  

Tomorrow we'll experience the holiday, so come back for more pictures.  

There is More Than One Way to Get Around Town...

We just passed our One Year Anniversary of being in Niger!  October 2.  And...we still don't have a vehicle to drive.  Circumstances beyond our control but definitely NOT beyond the control of our Heavenly Father. When we moved into our wonderful house, we never realized that we soon wouldn't have a driveway.  We still don't due to the road construction.  So there would be no secure place to keep our vehicle even if we did have one.  God's providence.

All that to say, our means of transportation have been our wonderful healthy feet or local taxis of which there are many, many, many.  We live within close proximity to the round point (a major intersection) where we can catch one to go anywhere we need to go.  We also have made friends with several taxi men that we can call for special trips.

Last Saturday, the taxi union went on strike.  Saturday.  Sunday.  Monday.  Tuesday.  Wednesday-that's today.  Negotiations are taking place but there is no news of progress being made.  In the meantime,  we are doing a lot of walking.  I don't mind walking at all because there is always so much to see and I try to always have my camera with me to capture just a glimpse of the sights I see.

 Yesterday, my friend and fellow staff woman, Saratou, and I walked home after staff meeting.   They were in one of the worst flooded areas or town and seeing the remains of so many mud homes was heartbreaking.  Makeshift houses are being put up with any kind of supplies they can find.

 The stains remain on the wall from the flood water.  Canoes were the only means of transport for a long time.

  The remains of the sandbagging.  

Mud bricks don't last long in flood waters.  My friend, Saratou, can still  hear the "boom" of the houses as they collapsed in the pitch black of the night as the flood waters rose and the ensuing cries and screams of the residents.

Back to the taxis...

Our other option of locomotion is taking a motorcycle taxi around town.  In the absence of regular car-taxis the moto-taxis have sprung up like mushrooms to take their place. Although it is true that in many other African cities moto-taxis are the main source of public transportation, it has not been the case here in Niamey.

This friendly fellow offered to take both Tom and me with him on his cycle (125cc - Tom's note).  We graciously declined.
Walking sounds awfully good to me!