WARNING: The pictures for this entry are pretty graphic. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
Eid al-Adha (the Feast of Sacrifice) took place yesterday. Last year, I flew to Thailand to avoid it. This year, thirteen of us were supposed to go down to the Sundarbans for a boat trip (once again to avoid this event). Unfortunately our tour company (Guide Tours – they suck; avoid them if you come to Bangladesh) refused to arrange our transportation, and despite many attempts, we were unable to arrange transportation on our own. After being forced to cancel that trip at the last moment, I was stuck in Dhaka.
All week I have seen people walking their new goats or cows home. By Sunday, you could not go out without seeing many animals being walked on the streets. On Sunday, I went to one of the local cattle markets, where there were few cattle left, but still food and chopping blocks for sale.
I ventured out on the morning of Eid with some trepidation. The night before, I noticed many goats and cattle lined up outside the houses and apartments in my neighborhood. By 9:00 a.m., when I finally went out, most were already dead. The roads near my apartment were covered in blood, and the carcasses lined the street. Fortunately I only saw one animal being killed. The goat squealed while its throat was being cut, and then its jaw kept silently moving as its lifeblood drained out on the road. Surprisingly, none of the other still alive animals appeared to be aware of the carnage going on around them. They kept eating silently, seemingly oblivious to their upcoming fate. I had thought that animals would panic when they smelt blood, but this didn’t seem to be the case at all.
The initial skinning and butchering occurred right on the road. Then the large hunks of meat would be taken into the carports or driveways, where they would be cut into smaller chunks. The head of the house is supposed to kill the animal, although most seem to hire someone to do this. Once the animal is butchered, they are supposed to keep one-third, give one-third to friends, and give one-third to the poor.
By early afternoon, huge crowds of the poor were wandering the streets in search of meat. They carried their own plastic bags, to be filled by those with the money to buy animals to sacrifice. The owner of the house right outside my classroom window slaughtered six cows. They placed a huge plastic tarp on the ground and covered it with hundreds of piles of chopped meat for the poor.
So, in the end I survived my first Eid. I liked the way it seemed to bring people together for a common purpose, and that a good portion of the meat goes to feeding the many poor here in Dhaka. I also didn’t vomit in the street, although my stomach did churn quite a bit. I haven’t eaten any meat for three days now, and probably won’t for some time more. But eventually I will forget what I saw and go back to pretending that the neat little packages of chicken, beef and pork that I buy in the Commissary were not once alive and frolicking in the fields.
