Reflections on Pakistan (Part VII)

After finishing the meal with my new-found family, there was talk of cutting the meat which was to be distributed. Eid, which is a Muslim holiday, begins with prayer at the Masjid and is succeeded by the sacraficing of an animal. Namely, a lamb, sheep, goat or cow. After sacraficing the animal, the meat is to be distributed into three portions. One for yourself, the other for kith and kin, and the last for the poor and needy. I was in Pakistan alone and my direct family from back home had requested that an animal be sacraficed on their behalf. It was a goat. Before we sacraficed the little guy, I got a chance to see it. It was beautiful. I had the opportunity to pat it and even take a few pictures with it! I was told that normally one should spend time with the animal they are going to sacrafice so that a bond develops between the person and the animal. This way the person who raises and cares for the animal has to carry out the sacrafice. In this manner, the individual truly feels how difficult it is to sacrafice something you love for a greater cause. This enactment of sacrafice on Eid is in commemoration of the Qur'anic account of Abraham being commanded to sacrafice his beloved son.

Growing up in America, I had never heard of it this way. The sacrafice never really meant much when it came to the realm of the heart. All I knew was that you had to sacrafice the animal, period. I must say that it was a valuable insight into my faith and for that matter into the nature of sacrafice itself. The true essence of sacrafice is directly linked to the condition of the heart. Meaning that inwardly, it should be a monumentous trial. It should require utmost patience, certitude, and trust in God. Through it, the heart should be strenghtened and faith perfected. I only wish that I could have had the opportunity to develop a bond with the animal to be sacraficed and thus truly feel the sacrafice but the circumstances did not permit me at the time.

In the afternoon, I accompanied Ali and Wajid Bahi to Nanni Khala's house, my other aunt. Some of the men from the family were gathering there to cut the meat. We were traveling down a narrow alleyway with buildings on both sides. The path widened after a few feet of driving and it was on the side there that we parked the car. All three of us got out of the car and walked along the path until we got to an open area. The floor was made of gray stones like in the old English towns. Sitting on it was a big puddle of blood that initally surprised me. I was careful to walk around it as we made our way to a man who was instructing a person whose profession, by the looks of it, was to kill and skin the animals to be sacraficed. Eventually, my eyes fell upon the dead cow laying on the ground. It had a lot of what was normally within it pulled out in front of its stomach. I had never seen anything like this before and believe it or not, I didn't have a sqeamish reaction. It was merely a feeling of wonder that I experienced.

The man doing the ordering was Khan uncle, my aunt's husband. We shook hands and exchanged greetings. There was some meat already waiting to be cut so the work had to begin immediately. I took my seat next to Ali Bahi who guided me on the process. I tried doing a little cutting myself but it was no sooner than I started, that I was slowing everyone down. Because of this I was given a different task. It is funny how sometimes you really want to help but the result of your good intention is negative. I almost felt helpless coming from an environment where I had learned the ins and outs of many day to day tasks to a place where I couldn't handle one simple task properly. It was as though I was starting all over and had to re-learn the basics of living in a society. I suppose it is natural given that it was a totally different culture and people. It also made me realize how helpless Man really is...it takes him an extremely long amount of time to get comfortable with and master his environment and the minute you take him out of his comfort zone, its back to square one!

After we finished cutting the meat, it was time to distribute a portion to the poor. Khan uncle was in charge of the task. Many young kids with scruffy clothes came running to get the meat. Before long, a crowd of young children gathered around Khan uncle. Some had come with bags made of cloth, others with plastic bags, and some even with pots. It was scene that truly took me aback. What was most disturbing to me was that there was no sense of self dignity in the manner with which these children were begging. They were pushing one another out of the way and practically fighting each other to put their bags before Khan uncle. I sensed that those children were much older than their age. There were no cartoons or fairy tales on their minds...they were focused. They had a goal and purpose in mind and were willing to do anything to accomplish it. I wondered if those children had been sent by their parents because it was more effective in gaining the sympathy of others. It was a sad thought but I wouldn't be surprised if it turned out to be true. Amongst the crowd of children was a woman who was also pushing and shoving to put her pot before Khan uncle. Once he filled it with meat, she would take the meat out and say to Khan uncle, “You didn't give me anything.” She did this a number of times before Khan uncle began to yell at her. “Fear God!”, he said over and over again. The scene was really making me sick. I thought to myself, the audacity of that woman! First of all, she was shamelessly fighting with the children to get the meat and secondly she was using deception as a tool to fulfill her needs. I wasn't too happy about Khan uncle's reaction either. I suppose I wanted him to be gentler in the way he approached the situation.

I told Ali Bahi how I felt but didn't get much of a response. Nonetheless, I carried an ill feeling in my breast all the way back home. I was hoping I could bounce my thoughts off of someone else and that chance eventually came when I talked to my cousin Sammi. When I expressed my feelings to her, she had a totally different stance. At first I couldn't quite understand where she was coming from so a small argument broke out. Needless to say, throughout our discussion we were both observing our manners. She was doing so more than myself, given that I get very passionate at times. Her point was simple: What I saw was the natural result of poverty on a people. Essentially, poverty drives people to such a low point that they lose all manners and sense of self-respect. I, on the other hand, felt that poverty was no excuse to forego one's manners and morality. In retrospect, there are some alterations I've made to my stance. For one, there is no way that I would be as certain about what I was saying if I had actually been in the shoes of those children and lived their lives. In a nut shell, it is very easy to judge a people when you are not in their position. I wondered whether their parents had even given them the concept of standing by principles like honesty, integrity, and self-respect. Some of them probably didn't even have any parents and therefore the streets must have been their teacher and best friend. In such a situation, could they really be blamed? I imagine being one of those children initially having my God-given sense of morality. I wonder how long it would last when I would see all the other children around me competing with each other for ends meet. In such an environment, it is almost certain that a moral child would starve to death. Survival of the fittest! I find myself amazed at using an evolutionary concept more applicable to animals for these children...the offspring of humanity. Despite this new-found realization, I do believe that ideally noone should give up their morality under any circumstance. There are certain things, after all, that are worth dying for. I also feel motivated to change the circumstances of the poor after seeing and experiencing such a scene.

It was quite a day of discovery and introspection. Tommorrow lay ahead in this strange land that I was born in...Pakistan.