Fifty or sixty sheep waiting within the
muddy pen that had been improvised against the front fence of the Madrassa.
They had arrived late last week, the Qantas flights resumed just in time. The
sheep had come from Adelaide; the cheaper goats Perth. Soon after nine an
expectant crowd had gathered. Near the side fence a plastic bucket of knives;
plastic sheeting spread on the opposite side. The arrangement was clear. Hoses,
large plastic bags and boxes, more knives on tables. Above what looked like a
pit near the bucket a couple of rails had been laid—in fact it was a drain. The
blood would not be collected; that was another kind of practice in northern
climates. Two thirds of the meat was usually reserved for the poor, of whom as
yet there was no sign. The slaughter was due to begin after the second prayer.
There was no announcement, no officialdom or muezzin call. The burly young chap
who had waited within the pen with the animals made the first move, taking down
a sheep by the rear legs. Once the animal was on its side a helper grabbed the
fore. It took a short while to unbar the improvised side gate. Three or four
more animals were soon waiting in line, held down and quiet.
The slaughtermen were older hands, unremarkable in the common dress. From an
almost vertical position the long blade came down, a prompt and what seemed
neat slit following the plunge. Almost like a hot knife in butter: the blade
was very sharp. After a number of animals had been done a chap with a whetstone
re-sharpened. Behind, the twitching of the animal's tail lagged a little after
the knife. It was only almost an hour later and a score of beasts that the
twitching on the pallets before the butchers was noticed. This was a shock. It
was possible the second slaughterman was responsible for that; somehow he
seemed less accomplished.
The blood from the knife was wiped on the sheep each time, one side of the
blade carefully after the other. It was an integral part of the proceeding.
Each time the slaughterman did the same, the second man like the one before
him. The remaining blood was washed from the blade by cupping water from
another bucket; between times the rails were hosed. The ground throughout the
forecourt of the Madrassa was muddy from the rain of past days. Adding further
water would only have made the job more difficult.
A group of men beside the drain raised prayers as the knife came down on each
animal, singing a short, plaintive couple of verses that included the
acknowledgement of God's greatness.
— Allahu Akbar. Allahu Akbar.
The voices were thin and minor key the same as the rest of the scene from one
end of the forecourt to the other. It was very much a Brueghel canvas. In front
of the chorus as if supervising a young woman stood with a sheet of paper. She
had not been present from the beginning; the choir itself might not have been
present initially. Various young men helped inside the pen and young boys of
ten given a turn too, their laughter and high spirits allowed. After a number
of animals had been skinned on the other side a chap produced an electric saw
and proceeded to dismember with that. Three or four animals were hung at a
time. On a table near the fence on the side of the butchering a man cleaned
animal heads. Everyone knew their task without any kind of order or system
apparent. This was a practiced communal event far from industrial slaughter.
After something like a score of animals had been done, the first slaughterman
was relieved. The second around the same age, somewhere in his early sixties,
wore a black songkok. Once
or twice his blade came down a second time after what must have been an
imperfect cut of the jugular. At one point there was a clear spout of blood
that shot well outside the drain. Possibly the impression of lesser surety was
mistaken.
The relieving of duty was unexpected. Was it the bending that had tired the
first slaughterman so quickly? His role was confined to the knife only. The
rails were sometimes hosed by him, sometimes by a bystander. So efficiently had
the man worked the assumption had been that he might do the entire pen. When he
was relieved more than half the animals remained. Somehow the second
slaughterman broke the earlier smooth rhythm.
In the contemporary Christian tradition it is the lamb of the manger that is
remembered, if at all. For Jesus the shepherd there is the lamb and the
flock—standing for the gentle meekness that has erased the radicalism of the
prophet (as Christ is acknowledged in Islam). Abraham and Isaac have been long
forgotten in the contemporary Western consciousness. In pockets of the U.S. it
might be different.
A significant number of applicants here were disappointed in not winning a
place in the Saudi quota for the hajj. Some who cannot attend pay for an animal
to be slaughtered in Mecca on their behalf. Prices of livestock have risen this
year because of weather factors. The Straits Times reported $443 per head of
Australian sheep and $395 goat — transport inclusive.
Geylang, Singapore 2011
NB. Published by The Antigonish Review, #187 (Canada)
