Eid Al Adha (The Festival of the Sacrifice)

     Tomorrow (October 16th) is Eid Al Adha, or the Festival of the Sacrifice. Eid is the second most important holiday in Islam besides Ramadan. True to the name, almost ever  Muslim family in Morocco will be sacrificing a ram tomorrow morning. Although I wasn't really sure what to expect (and am still not sure) our school has been trying to prepare us with several lectures on Eid in the past couple of weeks. Because I find it so interesting, here's a brief background and explanation of the festival.
     The meaning of the ritual sacrifice comes for the story in the Old Testament of when Abraham was told by God to take his only son  Isaac, Ishmael in the Quran, and sacrifice him to prove how faithful he was. Just as he was about to sacrifice him, an angel appears and tells him to not go through it and to instead sacrifice the nearby ram that was caught in the bushes. Abraham in this story represents complete submission unto God and the sacrifice symbolizes belief in God and God's mercy on believers. Every year on the lunar calendar, Muslims sacrifice goats, yew, sheep, camels, or even a cow to represent this story. Most people prefer rams because of the symbol of the ram in the story. Although this tradition might sound a little outdated or gory the significance of it is pretty meaningful. The soul is considered the most sacred thing in Islam. When they sacrifice, they say "Bismellah" which means in the name of God, or with the permission of God. When one sacrifices a ram they are doing it to take the ram's life, they do it in the preservation of the human's life. That being said almost every part of the ram will be used/cooked in some way and a good portion of the meat is given as charity to the poor.
     In Morocco for Eid  people pay the most attention the sacrifice. Every family gets a ram. Many would rather sell their furniture then have their neighbors have a ram and not them. People save up all year to by a ram. Because it is a sacrifice to God, only the best ram will do. If people are financially unable to get a ram its is not a problem. Celebrating Eid is encouraged in Islam but if one is not able to do so they will not be punished by God.

My host families ram and my host cousin's family's ram

Rams chilling in the house.  One ram for each nuclear family in the house.

    On the day of Eid 6 to 6 and a half million rams are sacrificed in Morocco alone. Pretty hard to believe, but consider how many animals are slaughtered in the United States on a daily basis, or even how many turkeys we go through on Thanksgiving, it does put this whole thing into perspective. That being said....sheeps about to go down here. Last week stalls selling hay and charcoal have popped up all over the medina. Also boys have built forts of hay all around the medina that they chill in and smoke and listen to music. Pretty jealous of their hay forts.  In addition to all of this, we all knew Eid was approaching because of the random sheep and rams being dragged or carried around in the medina. Also recently, men sharpening very large knifes have added to the festive decorations around the medina... it's not looking to good for those rams. I saw my families ram the other night it is on the terrace of my host cousins house so that is where I'll be tomorrow. It's pretty weird to think about how just about every household has at least ram or sheep in their house of on their terrace. It is also pretty loud outside because of all the noise the animals are making. The call to prayer  tonight was certainly a little bit more lively tonight with hundreds of rams "bahhing" along to it. Tomorrow is going to be a pretty bloody day. As our professor said, "Don't be alarmed if you see men walking around with bloody knifes and clothes... It's just Eid". I'll get around to updating this post after D-Day and add some pictures.

     Alright this second half of this blog post is coming at you post-Eid. And it will be containing some photos that are pretty gory so heads up, or should i say heads off...
Eid began in the morning with the men going to pray. My host sister and I walked over to her cousins house after I finally got to sleep in a little. When we got to their house we waited for the men to come come home from prayer so we could have breakfast. After a delicious breakfast and some tea we watched the prayer on the TV and saw the king do the first two slaughters. Traditionally, the king slaughters one ram for himself, and then one ram for the people who can't afford a ram. The people of Morocco usually wait for the King to slaughter the rams before they slaughter theirs. Soon many of the men in my host family came and changed out of their traditional robes into clothes that they didn't mind getting dirty. My host father and brother came in decked out in rain boots and a set of coveralls. My host grandmother's brother, a sweet old man that I talked with during breakfast pulled out a  couple of massive knifes and we all climbed up onto the terrace to watch (including the little kids). The men did pray before they went to get the first ram. I felt really bad for the rams because you could definitely see that they sensed something was about to happen. They were extremely skittish. I wasn't too sure about how I was going to handle watching an animal get slaughtered. Generally, (probably due to the massive number of injuries I have acquired) blood doesn't make me squeamish but I knew this was going to be a little bit different. Although cutting the ram's throat and bleeding the ram makes for a pretty bloody time, it is the most humane way to kill the animal. As soon as the artery is cut, the ram loses circulation to the brain and instantly goes unconscious. This is in fact the way that kosher butchers kill animals.  The worst part of it, I think was the sound of the blood squirting out after the artery was cut. Not going to be able to forget that for a while. Again the pictures are pretty bloody but it was kind of cool to see the whole family helping. Everyone had their own role. The women would provide buckets of water to clean the blood of the animal and they would squeegee the blood down the drain.  My host sister got right in there and helped hold the ram so her father could skin it. I didn't help because I felt I would get in the way but I was in the splash zone. The second ram was pretty hard to watch because this guy had no doubt in his mind what was about to happen to him. He put up a little bit of a fight and the knife didn't cut all the way through the artery the first time.
     After the animals were killed and the heads were cut off, they proceed to hang the ram upside down from the top of the terrace so they could skin and gut the ram. Just about every part of the ram is used whether its the head that is roasted, the skin that is donated to the tanneries, or the organs which are put on skewers and roasted.  I'll put the pictures all in a row here in case you want to skip through them. At one point of my host cousins was making fun of the faces I was making and would come up and "Baaaah" really loudly behind me the whole time. He also asked if i was hungry after the second sacrifice to which I politely told him that I was not hungry yet.

After watching for a little and taking pictures me and the other American students that were there decided to go walk around in the Medina and see what was happening in the streets. When we started walking around we got to the street that I live on and all my host cousins and their friends were roasting rams heads in the street after chopping off the horns. They were all laughing at me because they would pretend to try and touch me when their hands and clothes had blood on them but it was great to see them all and wish them Eid Mubarack Sayid (a Happy Eid).

Roasting heads in the street

My host cousins and me... and the ram heads....

Sheep skins collected on the main street of the median 

Earlier that morning I found out that me and my host mother were spending the weekend at my cousins house  (never know whats going on until its going on here) so I went home to get clothes and some books. Because of this I lost the group I was with but decided to walk around and try and find them. Everyone in the streets (all men) were so happy and friendly despite the fact that were bloody. This slight factor did not deter them from walking up to shake hands with me and wish me a happy Eid. In the main street in the medina, Mohammed the Fifth, there were hundreds of  skins laid out on top of each other, and other groups of men roasting heads. Some people will give their head to the boys to roast and then pick it up later and use it to cook, or in their cous cous. They just droped the head off at the friendly neighborhood head roasters.  The entire medina was pretty much enveloped in a large cloud of smoke.There were also carts of bags of trash and guts that people didn't need from the rams. The closeness of the community and importance of spending time with family and close friends was certainly very visible that day.

When I got back to my cousins house we sat down to feast of skewered kabobs and olives, and eggplant dishes, and bread. The skewered meat was the liver and stomach of the ram. Liver was not my favorite but it was still good. The rest of the day we hung around the house, got some reading done and everyone took naps and chilled. Late that night about 30 people in the family came over for a cous cous dinner. We even had a pre course of cous cous before the official dish. It was amazing. In order to prepare for this large dinner, my aunt had a giant tub of cous cous, it was the most I've ever seen at once. Dinner was amazing. The rest of the night we sat in the saloon and I arm wrestled with my guy cousins (almost won) and played with the little kids. It felt very similar to the vibe of holidays back at home with lots of family time and relaxation.

The next few days consisted of more ram at every meal. Moroccans pretty much eat every part of the ram including, spleen, pancreas, testicles, and the head.  So that was pretty much my Eid! All's wool that ends wool...

Essaouira Jewish History and Culture...Unfurled

My friend Sarah and I were assigned to give a presentation on the Jewish history and culture of Essaouria on the bus there. Naturally, we figure the best way to do that would be to write a rap. The large amount of bus time was also a contributing factor. So here's our rap. Our friend Charlotte laid a beat down for us.

S: Yo, Yo, Yo, Salaamu Alaikum C: Shnu kain huna? S: MK-47 M: Gold Standard S: Bout to lay down some knowleggggggeeee. Charlotte? M: Drop us a beat

When the Romans came to power they kicked out the Jews, Many came to Morocco, they had nothing to lose, It was the year 70, then their numbers grew 600 years later joined by others fleeing, too. There they established a small community, They converted Berber tribes while sippin’ some tea. Eventually, The Arabs came. Our boy, Idriss established a Muslim State. Jews weren’t tryna convert, so they fled from the war To the mountains and the desert, no longer by the shore. Idriss the 2nd came to power, he valued more unity, He invited the Jews back, allowed for their prosperity. The story doesn’t end there, there were struggles and strife, Now it’s time to educate how Jews got their Maghrebi life. Here’s a quick summary ‘bout the events that conspired, Jews status and positions in the following empires: Almoravids – PROTECTED Almohads – NOT PROTECTED Merenids – PROTECTED Waattasids – INDIFFERENT Saadians – USED Confused? ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~X*X I’m sure you’ve heard “Mellah,” Arabic word for salt That’s what they called the Jewish Ghettos, surrounded by walls. There are a couple possible reasons why this name came to be. We’re about to lay them down for you, then you can see. Wahid: Their confines, Built on salt mines Juge: Forced to salt heads Of Arab enemies dead. Which one is true? Well, that’s up to you! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~X*X Now this brings us to Essaouira, there was a Melah there, Almost as many Jews as Muslims – Minority? Where? Socially segregated, their coexistence was peaceful 7700 – Damn that place was full! Though many left to Israel, their Moroccan role is vital: Their traditions and their values – Strong like a wave, TIDAL! Commercial, Financial, Were their specialties. Their connections to Europe enabled diplomacy. Restoration of Jewish temples called for by Mo6. That Moroccan Identity? Hebrew Characteristic. If you’re looking for important Jewish places to go, Check out the grave, home, and synagogue of Rabbi Chaim Pinto, Or another synagogue of Simion Attias, Or the Jewish cemetery, BINT YOU BETTA BELIEVE US! (Bint is the arabic word for girl) Now you got some education, go experience the world. Baruch atah Adonai, Jewish history unfurled.

B’slamma!

Essaouira... 'nuff said

     It's taken me a while to get around to writing about my time in Essaouria because I knew this post would be a doozy to write... for someone who doesn't write too frequently, the task of putting the experience of completely falling in love with a place was kind of daunting.  I was also pretty sick for a while and down and out for about a week after the southern excursion. Now that I'm finally up and running and almost eating real food again I'm determined to sit down and write all this out.

    My last post left off with Marrakech. When we left Merrakech and headed to Essaouira we got to stop at an Argan Oil Cooperative. Argan Oil is huge in Morocco and essentially is used for everything, i.e. hair, body, acne, scars, muscle soreness, cooking, etc.  For those of you who have seen "My Big Fat Greek Wedding", its the windex of Morocco. The Argan Oil Cooperative that we visited gave the Berber women in local villages work for a fair share of pay and produced the oil and products by hand. My camera died during this leg of the journey but this is a picture of how they extract the oil from the argan seeds. I got to try and it takes some pretty strong arms to turn those stones that crush the oil! After the spending way more money than we intended to we were on our way to Essaouria. Our first day included fresh fish for lunch, and then we walked through the Medina and shopped. What makes the medina of Essaouria different than every other medina in Morocco that I've been in so far, is the people and just the overall feeling and vibe. The shop keepers and all the locals all took time out of their day to ask  us where we were from and how we were doing. There, everyone is so relaxed and laid back, yet quick to smile. Even when we were bargaining down a product with the shop keepers they would laugh at my attempts to speak Arabic. My two friends and I at one point found ourselves in an old jewelry shop where the shop keeper invited us to sit down. He then pulled out bags and bags of old rings, bracelets, and necklaces and invited us to look through them. The jewelry was absolutely beautiful and included a lot of Berber traditional symbols such as a compass that when aligned with the north star and the three stars around it can point north. The shop keeper told us about the different kinds of compasses he had such as the Saharian, and Berber, and Tuareg. He also told us about how he is a guide for treks through the Merzouga dessert and that his village is close to where we stayed in the desert. He got us tea and invited us to his village in the future in a perfect display of Moroccan hospitality. When we finally decided to continue on through the medina, we found the mellah, the walled ghetto where the Jews lived. At one point there were as many Jews as there were Arabs, making Essaouria the only city to not have a Jewish minority. Presently, there are only about 50 Jews left and they all still live in the mellah. We toured the home, and synagogue of Rabbi Chaim Pinot which is currently cared for by an old muslim lady who was incredibly kind. Her story is pretty incredible because when many of the Jews fled her family remained and took care of the synagogue and now it is open as a museum. This kind of story is part of the large amounts of  inspirations for my decision to do my independent study on interfaith in Morocco (more on that later). After walking around a bit more we headed back to meet our group to play a game of soccer on the beach before dinner. I am clearly not a soccer player but it was nice to be able to run around. I didn't even get hurt...that bad! After dinner everyone kind of went their separate ways but some of my friends and I headed to the beach to see the stars at night.

      The next morning most of our group caught the bus back with the program to return home to Rabat but me and the same group from last night opted to stay and travel the weekend. The next day was an absolutely perfect day from start to finish. Everything just seem to magically work out It started with a free breakfast in the morning then we all headed over to the hotel in the medina we were staying in. At that moment  I was so happy to be in Morocco, walking along the beach, with my backpack on my back, surrounded by close friends. It felt like I was doing the right thing with my life to be in that moment, at that exact instant. That feeling stuck with me the whole day, everything kind of seemed to work out like one big happy coincidence. For instance, once we checked into our hotel, we went down to the lobby to give them our passport information. When we returned to our room we couldn't unlock the door. Everyone tried. Eventually they got a maid to try and she couldn't open it, and then they got a man who worked there and he couldn't do it. A that point he sent us up to the terrace to hang out wait. The terrace by the way had a view of the entire median and the sea and the weather was perfect. So what did we do? We tanned on the terrace in our bathing suits that we conveniently had put on in the morning, while below us the man could be heard hammering away at our door.

Finally we came and got us after breaking down the door and we got moved into a much nicer room with 2 queens instead of 3 singles. While my two friends went to drum lesson at a local trance music store, the rest of us went through the souk searching for a picnic lunch to bring to the beach. The beach and lunch that afternoon was perfect and we sampled some of the local culture and got to relax. Later that evening we went to to a restaurant and cafe called Three Birds Place because it advertised live Gnawa music. There we had  tea, and tajines. The live music was literally a father and his two young sons. The father played the string instrument while the boys played the castanets. It was absolutely incredible. At one point in the middle of a song, the younger boy got a phone call and just walked out of the restaurant to take the call in the middle of the performance which was pretty hilarious. Between the songs, the cafe would play music off a mixed cd that was just perfect. The songs were a perfect mix of jazz, funk, oldies and remixed pop. We were all so taken with the music (both the live and the cd) that we asked the owners of the cafe if we could get the mix from them. They agreed to hook us up if we came back the next morning. (They graciously gave us 4 different mixed CDs the next morning, which now make up the most amazing play list on my iTunes.) Between all the music, food, and getting to know the musicians we were all riding such a natural high that night that we couldn't wipe the smiles of our faces. That perfect night continued with some nutella, banana, almond crepes (no joke.)  and some roof top drumming and singing impromptu blues at our hotel until we were asked to quiet down by some of the grumpier guests. oops. ( Germans need their sleep) The next morning we woke up early and though we all didn't want to leave Essaouria,  half of us continued on to Marrakech the next day to split up the 8 hour travel time back to Rabat. One of our readings by Mohamed Salhi who is a Moroccan poet, captures the city perfectly.

 "Essaouira’s magic lies in its transparent mystery. It teaches you one lesson after another in love of life and embrace of its lethal mirage. It is a carnival city; whoever visits it wears a mask and is immediately immersed in the carnival. The drums are beaten and the senses speak; everything moves away from itself and roves. In Essaouira, you don’t need to have an ID card. Here there is no identity but Essaouira. It is as though this city has split itself into many bodies; it is one city in the plural. It encompasses the charms and beauty of each and every Moroccan city." 

This city is the perfect blend of Arab, and Berber culture. Although there is western influenc just like Rabat and Merrakech, this city incorporated it in a different way than just tourist attractions. The western culture came though in a sort of jazzy, and soulful way, like the way the mixed cds at the cafe that had lots of blues and funk on it, or the way every single local loves Jimi Hendrix and Bob Marley. My heart was stolen that weekend by the people who are all so kind and genuine, the sea and perfect accompanying breeze, the gnawa music full of culture and tradition, and the very soul and funk of the city itself. As Salhi put it, "Whoever visits Essaouira certainly comes back to it, lives in it, or dreams of coming back to it".
     Merrakech the next was not quite the perfect day but we all kind of rolled with it since the day before was so great. The bus ride was long and hot and stuffy and it took us a while to find our hotel but when we finally did we had a nice night in the square with more shopping and some good food. the next day we had to catch a 5 hour train ride back to Rabat. We were supposed to have a daylight saving time that morning and gain an hour, however some minister in Morocco decided not to have it. He actually changed his mind. Good to know.  That morning we were incredibly confused because when we go to the train station we were a little disoriented to find the clock and trains running an hour later than what we thought the time was. Classic Morocco for ya. The train ride back was the perfect amount of time to sit and enjoy and reflect on the amazing week we all had and make a new Moroccan friend who sat in our compartment. I just felt such a piece of mind because of the continuing feeling that I was supposed to be in Morocco, and on that train at that moment. It was a great end to the southern excursion.