Ninety percent of Gambians are Muslims. Unlike in Ghana, Nigeria, and some other countries along the Atlantic Coast, Muslims dominate along the coast and upcountry. Every Friday, Jummah Prayers take place and I relive the 1995 Million Man March with seeing Gambian men peacefully flood the streets heading to the nearest mosque for worship.
After the village’s Imam prayed and slaughtered his Tobaski ram, the villagers followed with their rams or an animal they could afford. Then, a Million Man like March began. It was an empowering and bonding sight. In the mosque, however, I was a bit uncomfortable seeing women and children sit behind a curtain. It makes me think how Absalom Jones and Richard Allen must have felt when told to sit in the gallery of St. George’s Methodist Episcopal Church in colonial Philadelphia.
Then, they took the goats to another spot and skinned them. I recalled being a child and my cousins describing my granddaddy wringing chicken necks and seeing them run crazy while I was “safely” in the house.
The biggest personal glee came from seeing Pa, a guy I knew from his young adult years, take lead in killing the rams in the Cham compound. He placed the goat’s neck over a hole dug in the ground. This gave him room to cut that animal’s throat and a place for the blood to gather.
As he killed the goats, the younger kids participated. They were as excited as I when I was a youngster and it was my turn to rotate the hand-cranked ice cream machine during Memorial Day festivities back in Gary, Indiana.
Then, they took the goats to another spot and skinned them. Just like not sleeping with air conditioning, I was not sure if I could take it. I recalled being a child and my cousins describing my granddaddy wringing chicken necks and seeing them run crazy while I was “safely” in the house.
The young kids were not only eager to watch, they insisted on helping. I manned up, but was most surprised when some of the younger kids began tussling over what appeared to be the ram’s scrotums. So, I asked about it. A guy confirmed what I thought. My heart sank. Surely, I was not going to eat the meat for dinner.
I ate dinner. It was not bad and even very good knowing I was eating meat without additives that I couldn’t pronounce.
As the evening came, the kids dressed in their finest for Saliboo. One group of four very young girls was dressed so nicely that they appeared to breathing dolls.
Saliboo almost like Halloween in that the children walk around asking for treats. I gave them masks from the Lion King. One fellow saw me later that evening, looked at me, showed me that he still had his masked, and just beamed with happiness.
When talking with Cham’s relative Batch, a common nickname for Samba, at their compound’s bantaba (meeting place), we agreed the children will recall when they are older the time that the American, the Black American, came to the compound for Tobaski as much as I recalled a childhood memory.
My Best Times in The Gambia – Come Join Me
Travel
I remembered sitting on my Aunt’s stoop, my legs were short enough to fit perfectly on the Connecticut Avenue sidewalk, and a lady came wobbling by while eating ice cream from a Dixie Dairy ice cream cup. She stopped, recognized my humanity, and offered me some ice cream from her cup or money to go to the corner store to get my own. In many ways, her humaneness had come full circle and continues to evolve and hopefully continues a chain reaction.
This was one of the few times I have stayed in The Gambia during the rainy season and it started pour when I got back to my hotel room in Farafenni. I was not sure what to expect as the rain, wind, and dark clouds made me think this was the end of time. However, when the sun rose, the streets were barely wet with muddy puddles here and there, and folks were moving about their business.
Sixty percent of the folk in Gambia’s are under 25, so it is not unnatural to see young people such as Omar Mbye running the guest house. However, as an African American seeing Mbye operate the motel owned by his relative so professionally was very empowering considering that one of every two motels in America are owned by Asian Indians.
As usual, Cham kept me on the go. We managed to visit with some other fellows their efforts to keep the Sahara desert from reaching Africa’s Smiling Coast as they planted trees in the sand and we took a boat ride on the Gambia River.
Cham and I did have one disagreement, while riding through the village on his motorbike, I saw a woman contemplating near a tree. He quickly said to me, it’s not what you think it is. Um, I still say that space meant something to her . . . something deeply spiritual.
After three days upcountry, in the provinces, Cham wanted to go even further. So we went to see the Wassu Stone Circles and visit the town of Janjanbureh, the later which became the focus of “Pagan-Christian-Muslim-African-Britain-Gambian-Brexit.”
Whether on the Smiling Coast for 9 or 31 days, I am usually their mixing pleasure and business while the Gambians are living their daily lives. This trip was special in that I had a chance to absorb being with my friends while they took a break from their everyday lives to dip into the festivities of a holy, but grand holiday.
Read Part 1 of 2: My Best Times in The Gambia – Come Join Me
This was one of the few times I have stayed in The Gambia during the rainy season and it started pour when I got back to my hotel room in Farafenni. I was not sure what to expect as the rain, wind, and dark clouds made me think this was the end of time. However, when the sun rose, the streets were barely wet with muddy puddles here and there, and folks were moving about their business.
Sixty percent of the folk in Gambia’s are under 25, so it is not unnatural to see young people such as Omar Mbye running the guest house. However, as an African American seeing Mbye operate the motel owned by his relative so professionally was very empowering considering that one of every two motels in America are owned by Asian Indians.
As usual, Cham kept me on the go. We managed to visit with some other fellows their efforts to keep the Sahara desert from reaching Africa’s Smiling Coast as they planted trees in the sand and we took a boat ride on the Gambia River.
Cham and I did have one disagreement, while riding through the village on his motorbike, I saw a woman contemplating near a tree. He quickly said to me, it’s not what you think it is. Um, I still say that space meant something to her . . . something deeply spiritual.
After three days upcountry, in the provinces, Cham wanted to go even further. So we went to see the Wassu Stone Circles and visit the town of Janjanbureh, the later which became the focus of “Pagan-Christian-Muslim-African-Britain-Gambian-Brexit.”
Whether on the Smiling Coast for 9 or 31 days, I am usually their mixing pleasure and business while the Gambians are living their daily lives. This trip was special in that I had a chance to absorb being with my friends while they took a break from their everyday lives to dip into the festivities of a holy, but grand holiday.
Join POH For Tobaski2025
The specifics evolve depending upon flight schedules from the US and those from Dakar. The option of going by land between the capital cities, Dakar and Banjul, depend upon the flight schedules and the number of travelers. Here is the preliminary itineraryRead Part 1 of 2: My Best Times in The Gambia – Come Join Me
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