Eid Al-Kabir : Time to Celebrate

This past week we celebrated the most important holiday on the Islamic calendar.  One of the reasons I wanted to live abroad was to fully experience a new culture, and this holiday was the pinnacle of cultural experiences.  Before you read too far, please take note that there will be a handful of graphic photos below.  If you are uncomfortable seeing a sheep being slaughtered, this blog post might be one for you to skip.

The weeks leading up to Eid al-Kabir in our town sort of felt like the weeks leading up to Christmas back in the US.  Shops were much busier, relatives came home for the holiday, and there was a special sort of energy in the air.  One major difference?  Every family had a sheep up on their roof, and the sound of the sheep bleating all day and night sounds a little different than holiday music at the mall.

Our family's sheep.  Baaaa-utiful.

And then, as each family commemorates the story of Abraham, Ismail, God, and the sheep, the soundtrack suddenly stops.  After watching morning prayers from our roof, we hurried over to our host family’s house.  There, we waited for the butcher.  Each family in town has their own sheep to slaughter for this holy day, and so the butcher is a busy man.  Us gals passed the time by cleaning and dancing.  The boys watched TV. 

When the butcher arrived, we headed up to the roof and said our last words to the sheep.  Our host mom filled his mouth with spices, a quick prayer was offered, and the butcher got to work.  Perhaps it is because we’ve grown accustomed to seeing our chicken killed in front of us before we take it home to cook it, but the actual slaughter was not too difficult to watch.  The butcher, skilled in his craft, completed the deed in under 20 minutes.  The sheep was mercifully killed, skinned, and cleaned before I could fully process what was going on around me. Its liver was thrown on the grill, its blood cleaned off the ground, and its internal organs removed and rinsed while we played with settings on our camera.

Slipping spices into the sheep's mouth. Distraction technique?

Our host brother and the sheep.

Looking a bit like lace, a sheet of fat was hung up on the clothesline to dry while the liver was grilled.  Before I could protest, the sheet of fat was placed in my hands so that I could begin the work of crafting boulfaf, kebabs made of liver wrapped in fat and coated with spices.  The kebabs, perhaps the closest thing to bacon we’ve had in a long time, were delicious.  As was the lamb tagine we had for dinner that night. And the lamb tagine we had for lunch the next day. As, I’m sure, will be the lamb tagine we eat for lunch today.

Host cousin and I making the kebabs.

It's much more fun to bbq inside the house.

Pete and our host brother enjoying the first bites of the sheep.

The rest of the day was spent much like any big holiday in the US.  We passed the afternoon by eating lots of food, watching TV that we were not particularly interested in, wondering how we could help our hostess.  Oh, and looking out the windows to see the Harma chasing kids in the street.  But that’s a whole other story.

Eid al-Kabir was a good day.  Our host family treated us with such kindness and generosity, and we felt grateful to be part of their intimate holiday celebration.  Morocco is a lot of things; most notably for me, Morocco is a constant lesson in hospitality. When we return to the US, I hope to invite people to our roof to watch us slaughter an animal and then share all the various parts with them.  Wait, no.  I just want to be a kinder, more generous person, in whatever form that might take.