Eid al Kabir- the apocalypse

I helped slaughter a sheep! It sounds better than, "I watched and took pictures while some guys slaughtered a sheep."

Things have been going considerably better since that last post of frustration and despair. My windows are fixed, the water is hot for at least 5 minutes when we shower, I have new necklaces from my grandma to keep my spirits up, no more lice or temporary boarders, new bed and desk, etc.

Just after my last post, we celebrated Eid al Kabir, the Muslim holiday to recognize Abraham's sacrifice to God on the mountain. In lieu of infanticide, God gave Abraham a sheep to sacrifice. Muslims around the world repeat this ceremony once a year in a very symbolic and important family holiday. Sheep are purchased in the weeks leading up to Eid al Kabir, along with hay to feed them while they live on the roofs and hallways. Knifes are sharpened on wheels by knife-sharpener guys on every street corner so that no sheep will be disturbed by a dull cut and slow death. It felt like preparing for Christmas, only a little smellier.

(Warning: I will tell you my story of Eid al Kabir, with photos throughout. Some are pretty gruesome, so if you don't like dead animals, perhaps you should shield your eyes.)

On the day of Eid al Kabir, my roommate (Jess) and I were invited to celebrate with our friend Saad and his parents. Jess is a vegetarian. It wasn't her day. So she decided to meet us later, after all the killing stuff was over. But I wasn't about to miss this. I walked through the streets to Saad's house early in the morning, and there was a feeling of great anticipation in the air. At Saad's, I enjoyed a delicious breakfast and was just settling in when the neighbors came running to bring us up on the roof, where the first sheep had just been slaughtered. Though I missed the actual killing, I was there to observe the ritual disemboweling and the separation of the organs. And to play with the head and hoofs.


Then it was time for our sheep. He had been tied up in the front hallway of Saad's house and he was a naughty little guy. For weeks, Jess and I had been secretly whispering to the sheep of Rabat, "Wjd bash tmoot....prepare to die," but this guy didn't deserve a warning. He had kicked and screamed and even defecated on Saad's toothbrush. Instead of a warning, I gave him a pat on the head and started my video camera.
Dying takes longer than I had anticipated. While praying and blessing the sheep, the men delivered one swift, clean cut to the throat and I expected a couple seconds at most of trashing. Instead it was minutes. Felt like hours. I helped by sweeping blood. I won't go into details here, but eventually he died. The men pumped his skin with air to make it easier to remove, and the body was hung to prepare the meat once again.
I went to get Jess and this is where the real shock came in. The city looked like the apocalypse! There were fires on every street corner where men were roasting sheep heads for their neighbors and blood was everywhere. All of the shops were closed and some men ran from one place to the next carrying bloody knifes and bits of carcass. In my apartment block, the neighbor kids were playing with fire, knifes and sheep heads, too. Generally not doctor-recommended childhood entertainment. If someone were to drop in on Morocco on this particular day, knowing nothing about the country, they would probably call the U.N. and report a Civil War. Instead of a national disaster, it was a day of peace and family togetherness. We could hear the calls of elation and sense the joy the families took in their celebration. It really did feel like Christmas morning. A bloody, flaming Christmas morning.

After a month of contemplation, I can honestly say that the slaughter didn't bother me at all. I had wanted to see what it's like and to understand where my food comes from. For others, the experience of watching an animal die is enough to send them to the land of veggie burgers and vegan cookies. But for me it was almost spiritual to watch the care and deliberation that is taken for Eid al Kabir. Of course, not all meat is prepared this way. And the smell of everything made this particular sheep a little unappetizing to me. But I was still more fascinated than disturbed. I hope you are too.