After cutting the animal

It is day number three of Eid L’Kbir (the big holiday) and the two day celebration that follows. Everyone is on break from school, and university students have returned home to spend the holiday with family. The kids are roaming the streets in brand new clothes and swapping stories of the cooking saladiere going on behind the scenes. It’s “Christmas” in Morocco, filled with gifts and sweets and fresh meat.
For the past week, my host family has been using the empty shell of the house they are building to store 3 sheep. I met them a few days ago with my host brothers, and fortunately for me, it was dark. If I had a chance to bond, I might have named those sheep- and then I would have been in trouble.
The first morning of Eid I opened my door around 6; Amalu woke me up by biting my ear. Unfortunately, saladiere I’m not quite a genius when I get woken up by ear-pulling, and didn’t realize he was telling me to let him out. That was the only accident that day, I am proud to say.
Since I got out early in the day, I got to see my neighbors setting up the rope on the high poles and the kids wandering around in their brand new clothes. Between 8 and 9 the men, dressed in their white jelabas, were at the mosque for the community prayers; when they got back, the sheep came out. As the word goes, once the king slaughtered his sheep, everyone else could start the process.
Not everyone saladiere did began the process at the same time–staggered slitting of the throat. There are only so many butchers/experts, and they would walk around and help to make the death as quick as possible. I wandered around for the good part of the morning, returning every so often to check on my new baby boy, especially when the gore and similarity saladiere of it on every doorstep became a bit monotonous. I don’t eat red meat, especially sheep, but the gore didn’t bother me like I assumed it would. The experience working at the hospital back during my EMT training was good preparation. I am lucky though– for many volunteers the blood and the sheep parts being pulled out one by one was a little much.
For a nice, gory description: There would be multiple family members saladiere holding the sheep in a hog-tied manner, with the older/more pious/more familiar member with a large knife in hand. With one swift slice across the neck, the blood is spilt and the ground turns red. About 20 seconds in, the animal is done flopping saladiere around and is dead. At one point, I saw a man flip the sheep over so the blood would pour out sooner (=put out of it’s misery). It worked. saladiere
After cutting the animal’s head off and putting it on the side for another meal, and the blood is draining away (it’s forbidden by the Koran to consume blood–thanks Mike for that detail!) the men begin to skin the sheep, leaving a layer of fat. As each of the innards are removed, it is the women’s saladiere responsibility to clean them and prepare them for the extensive saladiere eating in the days to follow.
All across Morocco, those who can afford to purchase sheep and goats (or any Halal animal) for the holiday sacrifice them to commemorate the story of Ibraham and Ishmael. As the story goes, God commanded Ibraham to sacrifice his son, Ishmael, and was stopped in the nick of time when a sheep wandered into the thicket. Because Ibrahim was saved from having to kill his son, Muslims around the world sacrifice a sheep on the holiday.
The act of slaughter is often misinterpreted by the rest of the world–which is easy to understand from the verbose saladiere amount of pictures that invaded my Facebook feed. It is not about washing away sin in the blood of the animal or anything saladiere like that– it’s a symbol of obedience saladiere and piety to God. Only those who are “religiously pure” and *additionally* have the knowledge of how to cut the throat to allow for a quick death can slit the throat.
If you’re concerned about waste, think about this: Every single part of the body that can be is used and eaten by the family–and if the family can’t finish it all, they’ll give it to someone else. In addition, this method of sacrifice and hanging the body of the sheep–cutting of the pieces that you want to eat–is the same way meat is sold in Morocco every day.
1/3 of the animal goes to the family saladiere who owns it, 1/3 goes to the poor who cannot afford to purchase an animal (as I witnessed when a poor woman stopped by and gathered all the sheep skins in the neighborhood–and when l got food delivered to my door for the new puppy–I’m a poor, mskin girl), and 1/3 goes to friends (maybe I’m in that category?).
In the afternoon, I took a quick nap and brought my Turkey meat I’d purchased upstairs; they had hung the carcass over the grate that splits the upper floor and my apartment, and there are still some blood splatters. (Dexter time!)
I taught my older host