Animal Sacrifice Bad for Livestock, Good for Integration

HEADS UP: This post is followed by some pretty graphic photos. If you’re sensitive to blood, and find the thought of animal sacrifice unsettling, just stop reading before the image trail begins.

A few of these photos were nearly held back, and it’s only in the spirit of remembering why I joined Peace Corps that I’ve ended up including them. I think it’s important to understand “how the world works” as fully as possible, an effort that’s not just limited to economics, politics, and culture—textbook stuff—but also extends to more personal, emotional experiences as well. Life isn’t a constant, innocent high; it’s full of sorrow and discomfort, too. And as much as I dislike anxiety, I don’t support wearing blinders in its presence either. Partly because pretending that the world is something that it isn’t just seems disingenuous, and I don’t want to feel a fraud. But even more so because I honestly believe “negative” emotions provide too many potential positives to merit their denial. Empathy, self-reflection, moral realignment, the commitment to a better course, well-informed decision making… I don’t think one should shy away from the benefits that regularly come hand-in-hand with difficult experiences.

So, whether I’d photographed these events or not, Idul Adha still would have happened. My village still would have honored Allah for showing mercy upon Ibrahim and Ishmael (according to the Qur'an) by sacrificing ten animals: four cows, six goats. There still would have been muffled cries. There still would have been blood. And in light of that, I think these images reflect real experience, and regardless of whether your initial reaction is positive or negative, I think one's awareness—both factual and emotional—of what happens in the world is critical to one's ability to navigate through the world with wisdom and sensitivity (sort of like the benefits of Complete Information in economics). #soapbox

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Other volunteers have already posted some stellar write-ups describing what happens on Idul Adha. You can check out Erin and Nicole posts for further reading. That said, here’s my quick take on how the holy day went down in my village, and why i enjoyed it.

Early Sunday morning, I left the house with my host brother and cousin. We walked the cobbled paths down to the village mosque and met up with the crowd gathering there. Not too many people showed up. In total, there were probably less than a hundred, mostly just men and curious children. Plenty of women had understandably chosen to stay home.

Festivities began shortly after seven. Four cows were tied to trees, and a group of men selected which one would go first. First, a tarp was thrown to screen the cow from its friends. Next, the animal was brought to the ground, bound, and rendered immobile by stakes driven into the dirt around its body. Then, its head was propped up with the trunk of a banana tree, and a hole was dug underneath to gather pooling blood. “The act” soon followed, and afterwards, the men repeated this process with the rest of the cows and newly arrived goats until finished.

For me, the best part of Idul Adha came after the sacrifices. The killing itself lasted only an hour, but the grunt work—skinning, butchering, and roasting—dragged on for another five, and during that time, I really enjoyed hanging out with the village men.

I think most Indonesian males subscribe to the great cultural machismo, which as far as I can tell, holds that the fragile, white bule can only tolerate the outdoors for the briefest periods and requires constant refreshment lest he shrivel and wilt. I want to explain that a southern summer still owns an Indonesian dry season, that I joined a Hispanic landscaping crew as a fourteen year-old, that I find peace in distance running, and that few things make me happier than long, sticky hiking trips. But they wouldn’t believe me; I have to prove my manhood with heroic deeds here.

So it felt great to just be one of the guys on Idul Adha. I never wielded a knife, but I did help roast cow skin. I did refuse silverware over lunch to everyone’s great delight. I did connect with students outside the classroom. And I did meet some new village kids. So while Sunday might’ve been a loss for livestock, it was a definite win for this PCV.

I'll try to throw some video footage up in the next few days that gives a better idea of the conversation, sights, and sounds at the event, but this is it for now.

On to the image trail...

And to help cleanse the palette...