Eid al-Adha: Photo Diary

On Eid morning, we woke around 7:30am to get ready to go to the musalla for prayer. A musalla is a field or large open space used for congregational prayer on the two Eids. Any town or city will have at least one, possibly more depending on need. On Eid morning, men and women go there to pray together (women behind the men), and listen to a topical sermon. In Tahala the event lasted about 30 minutes. Afterward everyone goes home to commence their celebration.

Not everyone goes to pray, and I was surprised there wasn't more pressure to do so. For those I was around on Eid, the more captivating event was the sacrifice.

My host and me dressed to go to the musalla

Tahalaoui's praying in the musalla

After prayer, we waited for the gazzar, or butcher. Only a man trained in halal butchery can sacrifice a sheep on Eid.  

Halal is Islam's equivalent to Judaism's kosher. For meat to be halal it must be slaughtered facing Eastward, the direction of Mecca and the butcher must bless the animal:

In the name of God,

God is the greatest,

Halal is most important,

[to] He who Hears All and Knows All.

After this he must slit the animal's throat in one sudden and smooth motion. Then the animal is left alone for several minutes to allow "the spirit to leave the body." My host said that if the spirit does not leave the body, then the sheep suffers as it is skinned and butchered. Animals are not supposed to suffer during halal butchery. My host told me that the butcher will hide the knife from the sheep, so as to not frighten it. And though Islam prohibits the use of anesthetics for halal animals, it is believed that once the animal's throat is slit, it does not suffer. Once the sheep is dead and it's spirit vacated, the gazzar proceeds to skin and butcher the animal, preparing it for cooking.

My hosts slaughtered their sheep on their roof. They were generous enough to let me photograph the process. The photos below illustrate the Eid sacrifice from start to finish:

Preparing the sheep for the sacrifice. I can't say that the butcher (my host's Uncle) went out of his way to hide the knife from the sheep. As you can see, it took a professional butcher and his assistant to hold the sheep down. However, this varies.

Slitting the sheep's throat. According to halal guidelines, the throat must be slit just below the jaw bone, which, it is believed, will kill the animal instantly.

Allowing the sheep to bleed out and it's spirit to leave the body. There was a bit of thrashing around prior to this shot.

Cleaning the neck wound once the animal has died.

The skinning starts with the hindquarters. Here we can see the butcher inserting a sharpened reed into the skin just above the back left knee of the sheep. This reed puncture the skin, allowing the butcher to inflate the hindquarters, separating the skin from the meat and easing the skinning process.

The butcher's assistant orally inflates the hindquarters as the butcher strikes the lower abdomen to ensure equal air distribution.

The butcher makes his first incision behind the sheep's genitals.

Once the incisions are made the butcher breaks and removes the forelimbs of the sheep's hindquarters, so he can hang the sheep to skin it.

The butcher skinning the sheep. He works down, from the hindquarters to the front limbs.

Removing the skin from the front limbs and neck is a delicate process. A knife isn't used to avoid cutting into the meat. Instead, an incision is made near the sheep's shoulder. The butcher places his foot there and pulls the skin off with it.

Once the skin is removed, they begin to gut the animal. Here we see the butcher and his assistant removing the large instestine, which is not eaten, and the stomach.

Removing the small intestine, which is gathered together like rope.

The butcher standing next to the finished product.

 

 

The sheep goes immediately from the butcher's knife to the grill. Cooking and eating comprise most of the Eid holiday activities, and my host said that they celebrate until all of the meat is gone. 

The first body parts to be prepared are the head and legs which are scorched over open flame as the sheep is skinned and butchered:

 

This scorching is only preparatory. My host father tended to the grill and scraped off the sheep's hair once it was burnt. Once clean, the head and legs are slow roasted overnight. We ate them the morning of the second day.

On the first day, the priority is to eat what will spoil quickest: the intestines and internal organs. My first delicacy was boulfaf: pieces of liver and/or kidney wrapped in fat and grilled on skewers. These were seasoned only with salt and cumin and were quite delicious. Next, we ate some small intestine, which was flavorless and mushy and not very appetizing. Last we ate heart, also seasoned only with salt and cumin.

Preparing the fat for boulfaf.

Liver and kidney, pre-boulfaf

My host's father, preparing boulfaf

Boulfaf on the grill.

Grilling the small intestine.

Heart.

 

On the afternoon of Eid we traveled to my host's granfather's farm in 'l-Khizanah. There we feasted on mutton tagine and mechoui, Berber barbecue. It was nice to move away from organs to real meat.

My Eid al-Adha experience was eye-opening and incredibly impressive. Before last Wednesday, I had never seen a live animal slaughtered. It was intense. I'm not a very squeamish person, so I wasn't upset by the blood (even when some splattered on me). I didn't find it disturbing, but it was very real. It is one thing to buy a steak wrapped in cellophane from the supermarket and another to watch a sheep get gutted a few feet in front of you.

I don't think I will ever have a comparable culinary experience in my life. I ate meat so fresh that it was warm when it the fire. I ate liver for lunch and sheep face for breakfast. I was stuffed with mechoui, prune and mutton tagine, and mufawwur: roasted neck and leg meat with no sauce. In between meals there was kefta and an endless supply of harsha, a Moroccan cornmeal pancake, and olive oil. I will never eat so much meat in such a short period of time again. And it was all for the sake of family and friends.

On my last night, after a three course dinner left me stuffed beyond belief, I wondered aloud about why I continued to be plied with food. My host told me, "It's not about the eating. It's about the talking. Everyone has a sheep and it gets eaten whether you're here or not. But we do this because we want to spend time with you."