Yep, its official, I survived my first Eid. Volunteers have been warning us about this big holiday (literally translated, Eid Kebir means big celebration) ever since we got to country last March. They warned us of the sheep death and the kebabs made of sheep parts most American's wouldn't touch. Well, day one (of three) is over and I am happy to say I made it through.
The fun started last night at 8pm when the women of my co-op started their all night bread making party. After refusing numerous invites to join the party I hit the sack and got up at 4am to help them out. One by one the families (mostly children) filtered into the rickety old bread making shack and got their "nice" bread for the days festivities (2dh a piece, or 25 cents). At about 9am I headed into my house, grabbed some breakfast and took a little nap. By 10am the neighbor's kids were beating down my door, it was time to kill the sheep.
I celebrated this day with my counterpart and her family. She lives with her two sisters, her three kids and her husband so together, they killed one sheep. Her brother, Mbark, and his family were also in town from Rabat, so they killed another sheep. All of the kids were dressed up in their holiday best and the dad's were outside preparing the sheep to be cooked while the women were cleaning up, tending to the crazy little children and preparing the necessary vegitables and spices for cooking the sheep.
The whole day reminded me a great deal of most holiday gatherings my family had growing up. Kids dressed in their Sunday best eating dirt and rocks, women chatting away about life and the kids, the dad's outside avoiding the women, sports playing on the TV and the inevitable fight between the kids that always involves screaming and crying. It is ironic how a celebration so different from my own celebrations growing up could be so similar. Its like there is a book somewhere that taught everyone how to throw a party. Crazy.
After the sheep were killed one by one, so that one sheep didn't hear or see the other sheep dying, the kids and I migrated into the cooking area to begin preparing the kebabs. The kebabs were made of liver, intestines, fat, lungs, heart and other various parts of the sheep that didn't include any of the parts I would have liked to eat. The meat was seasoned, skewered and grilled while the children kept the cats away. Frankly, I feared being woozy about the killing and the dismantling of a recently living and breathing sheep, but it wasn't bad. I am sure it is much more sanitary and humaine than most of the killing of the meat I ate at home (except my Dad's deer meat). I sort of enjoyed watching a family appreciate the sheep that much, even saying a little prayer before killing it. You could tell that nothing was going to waste or being taken for granted, like that sheep's life wasn't take in vain.
The family that I celebrated with is very aware of my hesitation towards meat other than chicken and didn't press too hard after my first kebab, but I did have to have just one. It took a few tries to swallow the fat and the heart, but after I wrapped each piece in some bread and tried to chew as little as possible, it wasnt too bad. I firmly believe that if I would have not seen the death and taking apart of the sheep, I would have though they were pretty good. The rest of the party-goers ate them like hot cakes and at the end there was nothing left.
After 2 rounds of tea (around 2pm) the kids, moms and I gathered together for a quick afternoon nap time. Nap time is pretty common in my village and is not frowned upon at all, frankly its encouraged. After about an hour of rest we got back up and started the cooking all over again. This time it was intestines, fat and stomach. These things were all pressure cooked to a nice gooey consistency. Frankly, the pot did smell good, but my stomach was still having difficulties from the heart I ate earlier so I passed but everyone else chowed down.
All in all it was a great day filled with a great sense of family and community. Widowed women stopped by with their children to eat and chat and wedding preperations were already in the works for a wedding a few weeks from now. The kids got dirty and played in the rocks, much to their mother's dislike and the men watched Brazil play Argentenia in soccer all while the women hurried around the kitchen like little elves either cleaning up from the previous meal or preparing for the next. Seeing this family made me nostaligic for my own holiday celebrations that I will be missing out on. The good news is that this family lovingly welcomed me into their home and treated me as one of their own, giving me a sense of purpose for now, and for that I am eternally greatful!
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