Thanksgiving and Tabaski

At the private school where I work three days a week, I have been teaching my students about Thanksgiving. Each of my students made a "thankful turkey," by assembling cut-outs of turkey parts using glue and markers. On the “feathers” they wrote what they are thankful for. Many students wrote “I am thankful for my dogs” and “I am thankful for my games”. I hung all of the turkeys on a bulletin board in the entrance to the school. Picture below.

At the Catholic school, where I teach twice a week, we discussed the past and present of Thanksgiving. When I asked the class what happens on Thanksgiving I was told, “it’s when you kill many animals and then eat them” and “It’s when you get a lot of presents from your family.” To set the record straight I gave the Montclair public schools version of Thanksgiving. There was much talk of sharing, food, and being thankful.

When discussing what is currently eaten at Thanksgiving meals, I asked the students where they think people get their turkeys. “The slaughterhouse,” “the laboratory,” “the farm,” and “the chicken coop” were all shouted at me at once. When I talked of buying frozen turkeys at the supermarket the kids were stunned and disgusted. They asked many questions regarding the quality of meat, the freshness, and the size. They could not believe that for a holiday Americans do not kill their own meat and that they would actually purchase frozen meat from a supermarket.

Either Friday or Saturday is Tabaski, depending on the Muslim brotherhood one is affiliated with and trusts. Tabaski is the “festival of sheep” or the great slaughter, depending on your views. Every Muslim family is supposed to have at least one sheep, sacrifice it, and then distribute the meat to those without. Families come together to share a meal and have a good time, like Thanksgiving.

In Dakar, people sacrifice their sheep either in front of their houses, near the street, on their terraces, or in parking areas making it difficult to avoid. I have participated in two Tabaskis and that was enough. My friend F.B. and I are escaping the slaughter to a village south of Dakar called Toubakouta. We hope to avoid participating in the festivities and instead eat fresh fruit and go bird watching.