Old Meat.

I have experienced the equation for world peace.

One of the volunteers in my region recently had her 25th birthday. We hosted a dinner party at our house and invited the Missionary family and the JICA volunteers (Japanese peace corps type). Picture this: Japanese and Americans laughing over a plate of Italian food speaking in their only common language (Wolof) in Senegal. World Peace.

Last Wednesday we celebated the Islamic holiday, Tabaski. The day commorates Abraham's sacraficial offering of a lamb in place of his son Issac. I was told for weeks leading up to the holiday how great the day is, every house kills a sheep and eats all day. I figured it would be something like Thanksgiving. Nope.

I am all for eating of tastey animals. Seeing the slaughter process doesn't make me queasey; in fact, I think since I eat meat I should know how it gets to my plate (of communal bowl). However, I was not ready for the massive bloodshed of Tabaski. My family compound killed 2 sheep, we had a lot of meat. My neighbors slaughtered SEVEN!! I went on a run after Tabaski and found piles of sheep innards decorating the bush. We ate the leftovers for three days after the slaugher. By the third day the meat had the tender, burn-by-the-sun, aged flavor. I quite enjoyed it.

I had a "this is Peace Corps" moment. Yesterday, I was riding the 35K into Linguere. About 10K out of Linguere my tire blows out. So, I toss my bike on my back and start walking. Peace Corps.