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."

Eid al-Adha in Morocco

I just got back from three days in Tahala where I celebrated Eid al-Adha with one of my students. It was an incredible experience that I will never forget. To put all of what happened into one post would be impossible, so I've decided to divide my description and thoughts of Eid into three separate ones. The first will describe the lead-up and preparation to the holiday. The second will take you step-by-step through the day of Eid, including pictures of the sacrifice. Some of these are graphic. The last will describe my impressions of the holiday.

What is Eid al-Adha? There are two official, major holidays on the Muslim calendar: Eid al-Fitr, which ends the month-long fast of Ramadan, and Eid al-Adha, also know as Eid al-Kabir, or the Big Eid. In Arabic, its name means the Celebration of the Sacrifice. The purpose of the holiday is to commemorate and reenact Abraham's near-sacrifice of his son Ishmael. Islam identifies with the traditions of Judaism and Christianity, so this is the same Abraham in the Old Testament, and the same event Jews and Christians know as the Binding of Isaac. In Islam, Ishmael replaces Isaac as Abraham's favorite son.

This is how it reads in the Qur'an:

So We gave him the good news of a boy ready to suffer and forbear. (101) Then when (the son) reached (the age of) (serious) work with him, he said: "O my son! I see in vision that I offer thee in sacrifice: now see what is thy view!" (The son) said: "O my father! do as thou art commanded: thou will find me if Allah so wills one practicing Patience and Constancy!" (102) So when they had both submitted (to Allah), and He had laid Him prostrate on his forehead (for sacrifice) (103) We called out to him "O Abraham! (104) "Thou hast already fulfilled the dream!"― thus indeed do We reward those who do right. (105) For this was obviously a trial― (106) And We ransomed him with a momentous sacrifice: (107) And We left (this blessing) for him among generations (to come) in later times: (108) "Peace and salutation to Abraham!" (109) Thus indeed do We reward those who do right. (110) For he was one of Our believing Servants.

This is the religious context that justifies Eid al-Adha, and most importantly, justifies the sacrifice of a live sheep. A lot has been written about whether such an act is humane. Seeing it firsthand, I can say that it is a pretty gruesome. But it is not senseless. This sacrifice is central to the whole celebration. Through it, Muslims  participate in Abraham's sacrifice, they embolden their faith by mimicking his. The sacrifice reaffirms God's mercy as well. Abraham's sacrifice was just a test, and Muslims are rewarded for their participation in the ritual just as Abraham was. The immediate reward is abundant food to enjoy with family and friends, as well as hasanat, credit for good deeds, that cancel out sins. In the long run, these help ensure a Muslim's place in Heaven. 

We may all have our opinions about this act, whether it is truly justified or justifiable, but we cannot overlook its tremendous meaning to Muslims. 

Like any major holiday, you can sense Eid's coming. Last weekend I went with my roommate and some other Fulbrighters to Sebta, a Spanish enclave on Morocco's northern coast, to renew our tourist visas. The train back to Fes was packed with Eid season travelers. My roommate returned a day later and reported he couldn't find a seat for one portion of his journey. He counted 17 people standing, packed like sardines, in the space between two of the railroad cars. In other words, this is a big deal. Moroccans travel back to their familial homes from all over the country. The train service provides extra trains. Bus companies and grand taxis work overtime to bring people from the country to the cities and vice versa. It's like traveling on Thanksgiving Day everyday during the week leading up to and after the holiday, but with a developing country's infrastructure.

The second sign of Eid is shopping. The most important purchase is, of course, the sheep, or hawli in Moroccan Arabic. Beyond the religious significance, the Eid sacrifice provides a family with a tremendous amount of fresh meat that is eaten almost immediately. As you will see, no part of the sheep goes untouched. The type of sheep and the manner in which it is purchased and cared for varies. 

There are six varieties of sheep in Morocco, all of which vary in size and price. The best, according to my hosts and other Moroccans, is the hawli ahmar, or 'red sheep', from the Atlas Mountains. A good one is about a year to a year and a half old. You can tell this by the size and color of the teeth. My host explained that you want a sheep with short, white teeth. In Arabic these are called sanan al-haleeb, literally 'milk teeth'. If the sheep doesn't have a full set of teeth, it is too young. And if they are yellow, then it is too old.

A good hawli ahmar costs around 2500 DH ($315.50), which is a big purchase. The Morocco's monthly per capita GDP is about 1850 DH ($232), and the average middle class monthly income is 6000 DH ($750). Some families buy sheep on credit or save up for one throughout the year. But others purchase only what they can afford. Smaller sheep, kbsh, and goats, 'anzi, are cheaper alternatives. Those who can't afford to purchase one of these can purchase meat from a butcher in advance or accept meat as charity from their neighbors. Religiously speaking, it doesn't matter that these people don't sacrifice a sheep. They get credit for the sacrifice. If they could afford to do so they would, and in Islam, intent is what matters. Large and/or wealthy families will sacrifice multiple sheep or even a cow. The latter is excessive. Beyond it being unnecessary, it seems difficult enough to me for a family to finish one 50kg sheep. How do you finish off a whole cow?

Traditionally, sheep are purchased off the street or in a market. Farmers and grazers bring their sheep to cities or souqs, either selling them directly or through agents. In Tahala we visited a large sheep market where many merchants were selling hundreds of sheep. Out in Fes this past Monday, I was harried by streams of men pushing their sheep down the street in carts. Shoppers would flag one down, negotiate a price and then drag or carry their future mutton home. This was last minute shopping, with a dash of Moroccan insanity. The flurry of handcarts, the bleating sheep, the haggling; it all makes arguing over the last Butterball in the supermarket on Thanksgiving Eve sound pretty tame.

Sheep are not all that is bought last minute. In Morocco, it is tradition to wear new clothes on Eid. Monday night, before leaving Fes I went shopping for a jalaba, a traditional Moroccan robe, to wear on Eid. I also bought new belgha, slippers. The streets were again packed with people doing the exact same thing. In this way, consumerism is an almost institutionalized feature of Eid. However, I did not sense it being similar to American Christmas. Granted, I don't have a television, so I don't know if or how Moroccan TV commercializes the holiday. Elsewhere there is evidence of commercialization: Morocco's national train company offers and advertises a sheep purchasing service. It's entirely possible that Eid's consumer culture is identical or similar to that of Christmas. But I doubt that. Eid is not a gift giving holiday. Moroccans do buy new clothes, but not in excess. Only my host's brothers wore new clothes and they were limited to one outfit or accessory. This may differ elsewhere, but in general, I think Eid's consumer culture drastically differs from what we're used to being associated with American holidays.

In preparation for my Eid in Tahala, I only formed a few expectations. Not having experience Eid before, I really didn't know what to think, and my host deliberately kept me "in suspense". But from what I knew of its role in Islam I expected the day to be very religious, especially the sacrifice. Looking back, while religion is an important feature of the celebration, to reduce Eid to a solemn religious expression is both inaccurate and does the holiday and its participants a great disservice. As you will soon see, the meaning of Eid is much deeper and richer.

Medina Life: The Public Bath

Last Friday, I went to the hammam, the public bath. I got a massage. It was great.

The hammam is a ubiquitous feature of Morocco's medinas. Every neighborhood has one, and you would be hard pressed to find anyone who hasn't ever visited one, or even doesn't use one regularly. Yet, despite its prominence, I feel like the hammam is very difficult to describe. Yes, it is a public bath, but you don't go there just to bathe. Yes, you can get a steam and a massage, but it is not a spa or luxury retreat. There is a purpose to going to the hammam, but its function is not purely utilitarian. Hammams were once centers of neighborhood society, especially for women, who were able to enjoy themselves in the freedom and comfort of gender homogeneity. There is even a hammam economy: the shops and street dealers who sell soaps, cosmetics and bathing accessories in the alleyways surrounding the baths. But before going too deep into the social and cultural subtleties surrounding the hammam, let's get an idea about the public bath experience.

I visited the hammam Moulay Idriss, which dates back to the reign of its eponym, the first emperor of Morocco who founded Fes in the 8th century. All traditional hammams share the same design. You first walk into a dressing room where you pay the entrance fee (around 10DH, $1.50). In exchange you receive two water buckets and a secure place to store your clothes. The next step is to disrobe down to your underwear (bathers are not completely naked), and to enter the bath itself.

The hammam is comprised of three chambers of succeeding levels of heat and humidity. The first chamber is the coolest, somewhere around 80 degrees Fahrenheit. The second chamber is around 100 degrees, and the third is hotter, seemingly infinitely so. Water comes from this room. An attendant fills your buckets, mixing water from a hot tap and a cold tap in the ratio of your choosing. Most patrons aim for a 50/50 mix of scalding hot and cold water. The result is something slightly warmer than what I like for a hot bath, but not unbearable. Where does the heat come from? Giant stoves built below the hammam's third chamber provide its and the water's intense heat. Traditionally these are shared with community bakeries, usually built next to hammams, in order to use efficiently use this energy. Once your buckets are filled, you stretch out and settle in.

The process of bathing at the hammam reflects its structure. While you can wash yourself in any room, traditionally the hottest room is used first, for a nice, long 'preparatory' steam. You lay on the tile floor - hot, but not to the point of discomfort. Sanitation takes care of itself: a bucket of scalding water is used to wash away anything the previous users left behind. The heat around you is oppressive. Sweat doesn't just stream down your face, it runs out of your pores at an incredible rate. Before you know it, you're covered in it, but it's ok; by this point the heat and steam has lulled you into a somewhat sleepy delirium. Your worries and inhibitions wash away. Your bones soften to puddy and muscles to jelly, and that's when you take a deep sigh of relief and let go of everything that you had on your mind.

That night, as I laid in the hottest room, my brain starting to melt, I couldn't help but wonder about the thousands upon thousands of men who had laid in the same spot as I over the centuries. Who were they? What was their business? Did they, like me, come to the hammam to escape the concerns of everyday life? I felt connected to them, united by a shared purpose, a purpose unchanged for over 1000 years.

The steam portion lasts anywhere from 5 to 20 minutes. Any longer is unsafe and uncomfortable. Afterwards you enter the middle chamber, which, at this point, feels quite refreshingly cool. This is where the serious bathing takes place. To do so, you first rub yourself down with what is called a kis (kees). The kis is like a loufa, but slightly rougher, and is worn on the hand like a glove. You usually use it without soap to remove dirt and dead skin (and a lot of it at that) prior to lathering up. Also it is too thin to retain soap on its own. After some serious exfoliation, you lather up and shampoo just like normal, using the water from your buckets to rinse off. In addition, the middle chamber is also where you can get a massage, which was the highlight of my hammam visit. After bathing, you go to the last chamber to lower your body temperature a bit before leaving the bath altogether.

Prior to my night at Moulay Idriss, I had heard of the legendary/notorious hammam massage. So I knew going into it that this wasn't your white linen, pool side rub down. This was a serious, utilitarian, relaxing of the muscles and stretching of the body (emphasis on stretching).

My masseuse, Muhammad Massage, was a pudgy, balding, middle-aged Moroccan man. Identifying me as a foreigner, he communicated to me with polite "monsieurs" and exaggerated gesticulations: pointing, clapping of hands and  the occassional smacking of the tile floor to get me to turn over.

He began by rubbing me down to loosen me up. He then proceeded to put my body through a serious of contortions that I previously didn't know were possible. These included stretching all of my joints to the limit of comfort and a stretching of the spinal column that resulted in an equally significant compression of my nose cartilage. Afterwards he massaged the muscle in my back, and then flipped me over and massaged my chest. Every time he pressed down against me, he let out a quick "SSSS-AH",  much like a weight lifter doing squats. That's the type of force he employed. I've never had a deep tissue massage, but I imagine what I experienced Friday night was similar.

As Muhammad Massage stood over me, grunting, sweat streaming down his face, I couldn't help but smile. To him I was a pliable mass of bone, tissue and tendon, and one of many he had kneaded that day. I had ceded control, and by doing so I was able to withdraw. I didn't care about what he was doing because I trusted him. Why? Because so did everyone else who came here. And so I felt deeply content. I had achieved total relaxation.

The next night, I went to a going-away/Halloween party with the other Fulbright students studying in Fez. Towards the end of the party, a group of us starting to discuss the possibility of introducing hammams to the United States. To one of my companion's chagrin, I questioned whether that would be possible. In my opinion, it would not be enough to merely construct a Moroccan hammam and open it for business. As we established above, the hammam is not merely a place that provides a service. It is a social and cultural symbol that has strong influence and multiple connotations. I think America could adjust to the hammam as a place, but not to hammam culture.

Socially speaking, the greatest challenge would be getting the 'correct' Americans to use the hammams in the 'correct' way. What do I mean by this? In America, the practice of going to a spa to enjoy the steam room and get a massage exists, but only among the upper class. The same is true in Morocco, but those people don't go to hammams in the medina, they go to spas in the new parts of town. The people who use the hammam are everyday, average Moroccans. It is cheap. It is simple. And most importantly, it is not a luxury. The experience is certainly luxurious, especially for someone who is new to it, but it is not seen that way. As we said, a trip to the hammam has a utilitarian purpose. It is for bathing. It is also for relaxation, but this, as my bathing companion Driss told me, is "very good for the health". So could you have a public bath in the United States that not-upper-class people used daily for utilitarian reasons? I don't think so, at least not anytime soon.

An additional challenge is cultural, and it mainly relates to our perceptions of modesty and hygiene. It may be shocking for me to say this, but I think Moroccans are much less squeamish about bathing with each other than Americans. In other words, a Muslim country is more liberal in a very very specific way than the United States. The "gym-class embarrassment" that one American mentioned has kept him from going to the hammam doesn't exist in Morocco. Now keep in mind, we're talking about same-sex hammams. The idea of men and women sharing a hammam is considered shameful, but for men to sit in a steam room together and bathe is completely acceptable and normal. No one bats an eyelash at it. In America I'm not sure this would be the case.

There are a lot of qualifications to this assertion, but I think it is accurate. The key point is that the bathing experience at the hammam is completely asexual, and therefore there is no shame. In the United States, I think the experience would be sexualized (think of our perception of Turkish baths), and only superficially, but just enough to make it awkward. Because Moroccans keep both homo- and heterosexuality almost completely private, that's not the case here.

Another consideration is American culture's view of hygiene. This appeared in hammam discussion with the other Fulbrighters. I mentioned how I doubted many Americans would feel that a traditional hammam was 'clean', and one of my interlocutors agreed. He felt that the heat of the hammam and the near-boiling temperature water used to clean the floors when they're not occupied is not really enough to ensure 'proper' hygiene. And from a typical American point of view, I think he's right. We use Purell before touching food and believe that our children will get poisoned if they don't eat Halloween candy that is prepackaged in plastic. So, from this perspective, hammams are filthy. And I'm sure some are, but the key point is that Moroccans don't think so. As I told my companion, I feel that if Moroccans kept getting sick at the hammam the practice would have died out a long time ago.

I'm glad it hasn't; I'm planning to revisit the hammam tomorrow night.