Idul Adha 2 and the Unrelenting Rain

The evening started with a stream of distraught tears from 7-year old Ryan (pronounced Ree-an). “We’re (sob) late, (sob) and I wanted (sob) to join Takbir!” It may have been the first sentiment of remorse for being late in Indonesia that I’ve witnessed over the past year and a half. Fortunately we could see the mob glowing paper lanterns just ahead, so Ryan hopped on the back of a neighbor’s motorcycle and sped off towards the candle-wielding parade of village children.

It seems almost surreal that I’ve been in my village long enough to have already been party to two Idul Adha. This second Takbir around I was still in awe at the toddlers- with their fumbled, exhausted steps- carrying their disproportionately sized flammable lanterns; all the while their older elementary-aged cohorts whizzing by, flame in hand, weaving in and out of the bewildered munchkins, trying to catch up with their mates from school. But fear not: should the littlest tykes feel too overwhelmed or fatigued to take even one more step, a concerned parent or neighbor would swoop in on their exhaust –generating motorcycle (scorching hot exhaust pipes at just the right height for 3 and 4-year olds to breathe in profuse amounts of fumes) and scoop their little one to safety. We’d never allow so many child safety hazards in America: open flames; overweight, splinter-ridden lanterns; scalding exhaust pipes; direct inhalation of harmful vapors. But here, it works. The kids had a blast, and I can honestly say that I enjoyed my nighttime, color-lantern lit stroll through the neighborhoods. Whereas last year there were unrelenting shouts of “bule/londo/tourist” through the entire event, this year I was excitedly addressed as Ms. Maggie by kids and parents alike. It felt like I was legitimately a part of this cultural evening rather than an outsider trying to sneak in.

The Glowing Lanterns of Takbir

Early the next morning (Sunday) I headed to school to partake in the other obligatory Idul Adha traditions: communal prayer followed by a symbolic slaying of cows/goats. The mist coated dawn was idyllic for preserving the cool temperature for the duration of the morning. And again, I realized how much I’ve become a part of this community and how comfortable I felt amongst my praying students. Although I didn’t actively join in the prayers, it was nice to be in the middle of such a spiritual setting.

Women In Back

The Men In Front

In Full Prayer Robes

Little Boys in Kopia

Divided for Communal Prayer

From Above

My X.5 Boys in Sarongs and Kopia

And once more, I was surprised at how accustomed I’ve become to situations that would have made me uneasy in the past. Sure, the sight of spurting blood coming from the neck of an animal that is still groaning in powerless distress wasn’t the most charming part of the day, but it was nonetheless amazing to be a part of this distinctive culture and finally understand the history and the ritual behind the occasion. This year I was close enough to the slaughter site to hear the uttered prayers of the surrounding executioners as they slit the throats of the sacrificial beasts; somehow that made it seem all the more pious. From the four cows at school I headed to my neighborhood mosque to observe the partition of 15 butchered goats + 1 cow (in accord with Muslim tradition, 1/3 is donated to the poor, 1/3 to family, and 1/3 to neighbors/friends) and enjoy a bite of ice cream with some of my English Camp girls who were not at all inclined to help handle the meat. On my way home for breakfast I stumbled across Bu Sari and friends working on the largest cow I’d seen by far. I was unsuccessful in my attempt to remain an innocent onlooker, and somehow ended up in the packaging assembly line. Luckily I was only in charge of opening the plastic bags and was not compelled to touch any raw cow parts. That brings my bystander total to 15 goats and 6 cows, all before 9 am. I felt that qualified as my daily cultural integration, and was much obliged to promptly go home and take a cold bucket bath.

The one negative (aside from the haunting images of cow heads being chopped off, layers of fat being stripped away, and pools of blood brimming over the edges of man made holes) was the abundance of flies that took up residence wherever there was even the slightest indication that uncooked cow had momentarily passed through. Naturally, the floor-level sink where my ibu washed the dirt and grass off the donated slabs of beef was swarming the next morning. Then, stepping outside the front door on my way to school, I was again greeted by an unpleasant buzz from the new the tenants. Fortuitously, however, a torrential shower of much needed rain poured (and still is pouring) down, challenging the longevity of those pesky little bugs.

A BRIEF HISTORY

In Islam, Idul Adha is considered the ’Day of Sacrifice’ and commemorates the Prophet Abraham’s compliance to sacrifice the life of his only son, Ishmael, for God. God spared Ishmael, replacing him instead with a sheep. Muslims today observe this event by slaughtering one or more animals and giving the meat to family, friends and the needy.

During this multi-day event, all Muslims perform the morning Eid prayer in a large congregation, either in an open space or at a mosque. Muslims in Indonesia who have adequate means then sacrifice a cow or goat, but in other countries it is often a camel, sheep or ram (animals which were present during Abraham’s test of loyalty), each symbolizing Abraham's willingness to sacrifice his son. The sacrificed animals, called al-Qurban, must meet certain requirements in order to be considered acceptable to sacrifice. For example, a cow must be no younger than 2 years in order for it to be a satisfactory sacrificial candidate. Families that can not afford livestock often make a donation to the larger community who will then donate meat to the needy. After the killing, the meat is then carefully weighed and divided into three parts: one-third is kept by the family, one-third is given to relatives, friends and neighbors; and the one-third is donated to the poor in the community. In addition to the sacrificial slaughtering, community members continuously chant the Takbir before Eid prayer on the first day and then again after prayers throughout the remainder of Idul Adha. Both are considered indispensable acts on this momentous day for Muslims.

Takbir:

Allahu akbar, Allahu akbar, Allahu akbar

la ilaha ill Allahhu

Allahu akbar, Allahu akbar

wa li-illahil-hamdu

Allah is the Greatest, Allah is the Greatest, Allah is the Greatest,

There is no deity but Allah

Allah is the Greatest, Allah is the Greatest

and to Allah goes all praise

In an attempt to share my experience with those back home I took a myriad of photos, none of which do the day justice, yet still manage to give a glimpse into the holy day of sacrifice. WARNING: there are some graphic photos below, but the animals were all killed mercifully in accordance with Islamic law.

School Sacrifices

Draining the Blood to Help it Die More Quickly

Peeling Back the Layers

Did you Know a Cow's Stomach was That Huge?!?

Cow Hide, Basket of Intestines, and Tethered Bovine

Mosque Sacrifices

This is What 15 Slaughtered Goats Looks Like

Completely Intrigued by What the Big Boys are Doing

Not Wanting to Get Too Close

Ice Cream Girls

Neighborhood Sacrifice

Weighing Out the Meat to be Distributed

The Assembly Line

My Honorary Indonesian Nephew Doing What I'd Rather Be Doing: Making a Bridge