Silence of the lamb

11:35 28 January 2009

Warning: This entry contains graphic descriptions of slaughter in the first paragraph, read at your own risk- the rest of the entry should be fine for all.

For the first time in country, and indeed in my life, I witnessed the slaughter of a sheep. While it was certainly a somewhat traumatic experience, especially since earlier in the day I had chopped the head off my third chicken (I thought it might get easier the second time around but I was wrong- the immense feelings of guilt, queasiness, and horror at my own action remain and I was left trembling for a good ten minutes afterwards- the habits of a decade long vegetarian die hard I suppose) it was also in some ways an oddly beautiful sight. There are relatively few reminders that I live in a Muslim country on a daily basis, I can’t hear the mosque from my house, alcohol consumption is common and widespread (a legacy of the Russians), and Kyrgyzstan is a quite secular country; however, when it comes to slaughter, it is seeped in the Islamic tradition which is actually somewhat similar to the way kosher slaughter takes place. It began with my family and the neighbors who would slaughter standing around praying, the Muslim way asks God for the meat, the role of the slaughter is merely to cut the sheep (linguistically interesting you don’t kill an animal, you cut or chop it- God is the one who allows the blood to spill and the animal to die). After some Koran recitation, it ends in the Omin- Muslim Amen which includes an elongated sweeping gesture over the face, and the sheep’s feet were bound together. The throat of the sheep was then slit and immediately copious amounts of blood spilled like red velvet from the neck and the two men continued to cut until the head was nearly completely severed. While the sheep continued to bleed, it struggled despite the head’s near unattached status in a way that reminded me of the death throes of the chickens I have killed. Because there were two grown men restraining it and the sheep’s legs were bound, it wasn’t as active as the chicken had been, but it still was pretty jarring. Perhaps the most scarring moments were the sheep’s last three or four breaths which consisted of horribly ragged sounds and a bloody spray coming from the newly detached windpipe. After about two minutes, but what felt like four hours, the sheep stopped struggling and resigned itself to death as its neck wound was cleaned with warm water and our neighbors backed off to finish the spiritual side of the slaughter.

What followed this was the most beautiful part of the process. Our neighbor backed off and began to recite lengthily from the Koran, his hands warm and moist from the previous actions held cupped reverently in front of him and steaming from the heat of his and the sheep’s body. Seeing my family and neighbors circled around the fresh slaughter, thanking Allah for providing them for sustenance in the midst of cows lowing, chickens clucking, lambs bleating, and geese… honking? was a haunting but beautiful sight. Nevertheless, as I said before it was pretty jarring and the sounds, smells, and sights are ones that I will never forget.