Barka de sallah!

I may have woken up with a 102.5º fever, but I was determined not to miss out on a cultural experience.  My semi-postmate Hannah invited me to celebrate the fete de Ramadan yesterday with her and her friends in Djalingo.

Yesterday marked the end of Ramadan, a month of fasting observed by Muslims all around the world.  During this month, Muslims refrain from consuming all food and beverages (including water!), smoking, and having sexual relations, from sun-up to sun-down as a means to cleanse the soul and receive forgiveness from God.  While Sanguéré-Paul is predominantly Christian, the majority of the population in the Grand North of Cameroon (i.e., Adamaoua, North, and Extreme North regions) practice Islam. 

My semi-postmate Hannah invited me to celebrate with her and her friends in Djalingo.

We started the day by setting off for the morning prayer at 9AM.  This morning prayer is for men only (and highly respected elderly women), but we were invited to come and watch.  The mosque in Djalingo was not large enough to fit everybody at once, so everybody walked or drove their motorcycles to a nearby field (sort of like the overflow room across the street from church for Christmas and Easter masses). 

We sat behind the crowd, so as not to disrupt those praying.  Nevertheless, many fidgety little boys could help but to keep turning their heads and whispering "Hannah!!!" 

Preparing for prayer.

This little guy missed the memo...

Two women joined to pray, but seated themselves at a distance.

Hannah and I in our pagne ensembles, posing with our fave police chief and some of Hannah's friends after the prayer.

After prayer, it was time to celebrate.  We walked from house to house, visiting each of Hannah's closest friends in village, and feasting to celebrate the end of fasting.  We went to seven houses between 10:30AM and 2:PM and managed to eat six meals each.  Six plates of rice, each with the same simple oily sauce and a chunk of meat on top, often accompanied by sweet chai and soda.  At our first house, we even had appetizers of bread and beignets.

Let's just say, we carbo-loaded as if we were about to run six marathons (and I didn't even participate in the fasting!).

We simply couldn't refuse, however.  Feeding us was each host's way of showing their hospitality, and everybody was so incredibly warm and friendly and happy for us to be joining them in celebration - overstuffed tummies were truly a small price to pay!

With each family we would sit, chat, and eat before moving on to the next house.  At one house, we even had the luxury of getting to watch a snippet of Winnie the Pooh! 

This is for real.  In Cameroon.

At around 2PM when our tummies were about to explode, we walked back to Hannah's house and lounged around like blobs on the couch as we digested.  At this point, my fever had gone down to about 100, but PCMO requested that I take a malaria test, which meant that Hannah had to poke my finger with a needle while I squirmed and cried like a baby. 

Look Ma, I passed!  No malaria, wootwoot!

It was a lot of fun to meet Hannah's friends and to see more of a village other than my own.  Djalingo is about twice the size of Sanguéré-Paul, and has a very different feel.  Sanguéré-Paul is an agricultural village with large amounts of space between households, whereas Djalingo seems denser.  When I visit my friends in Sanguéré-Paul, we never sit inside (with the one exception being when I visit Madame Tizi, who has a larger house), because household structures are no more than a 10'x10' square hut that makes up the bedroom.  Everyone is outside, all day long, except for when they sleep (and even then, they stay outside!).  In Djalingo, however, we sat inside with each family we visited.  It was definitely interesting to experience these differences in villages that are only 5km apart.