Flock Ewe, Sheep-Killing Baa-stard!

Hello possums.

Not too long ago was the festival of Eid ul-Adha, the Islamic festival when Muslims commemorate Abraham's willingness to sacrifice his son for God (see here for an in-depth explanation of the event). It is a tradition for eligible individuals to offer a sacrifice (a sheep, goat, camel, or cow) on the days of the celebration. This sacrifice is known as udhiya or qurban/qurbani, and the meat is shared out amongst the community, especially the poor and needy. It's best for one to undertake the slaughter oneself, however it is considered permissible for people to arrange for someone else to perform the slaughter on one's behalf, which doesn't have to be in the same country as the person who ordered the sacrifice. Such a practice is especially common amongst Muslims living in the urban areas of western countries, where it is highly impractical to offer a sacrifice the traditional way.

I ordered my own qurbani through the non-profit organisation Mahboba's Promise, an Australian NGO founded by Mahboba Rawi, an Afghan refugee. A short while ago, after Eid, I received an email from MP with a link to an online photo album with pics from the organisation's Eid slaughter in Kabul. As I scanned through the images, I came across photos of the freshly prepared meat laid out on a cloth on the ground, with signs bearing the names of the corresponding qurbani donors marking each pile of cuts. And lo and behold, I saw the pile of meat with a sign bearing my name!

Meat, glorious meat (sorry folks, my name is not included in this shot!).



Conflicting emotions surged through my heart. The pride of, well, seeing one's own name put to something. The shame of realising that one is feeling this pride. However, I came to recognise a feeling which transcended all others, though I couldn't really name it.

You see, I came to realise something about our interactions with each other and the world, in this plane of existence. We all intellectually know that all actions have their respective effects. Throw a pebble, and make ripples. However, this knowledge is often precisely that - knowledge. We know it, but we act like we don't, and live like we don't - because even though we know it, it is just not real to us. We live in our foggy little bubbles, going about our everyday affairs, and who could blame us - if we don't experience something, can we really be expected to have a strong feeling about it?

So as I gazed upon my name on that nice little heap of mutton, Afghanistan became real to me. Those kids and slaughtermen in the photos, making dua together became real to me. Because of the power of a photo, my knowledge became real. I now knew, with full confidence that I just helped, no matter how ever so slightly, to make things better for a few people, for at least a short while. I realised that one could indeed create a tangible change and make a difference no matter where in the world one may be, as long as one puts one's mind to it. For a few moments at least, I truly got a sense of the brotherhood of man - we indeed are all in this together. No matter how seemingly insignificantly, my life cannot help but be touched by yours, and yours cannot help but be touched by mine.

I guess you could say that the overarching emotion I felt was hope. From the realised knowledge that I received in those few moments, I knew that anything is possible in regards to man. I received renewed hope in mankind's collective destiny, and have hope that we can work together to realise it.

Will I be able to sustain such realisations? For how long will I be able to live my life in the light of such realities before I sink again into forgefulness and the everyday humdrum? I don't know....but hope is alway there!

Big up yo'self Mahboba and co.!