Lambs To The Slaughter

Two weekends ago I saw some beautiful wildlife on Saturday whilst on Sunday I saw some sheep being slaughtered, skinned and butchered.

Saturday was a beautiful day – rainy season seems to have admitted defeat as brilliant blue skies and searing sunshine have ruled for the last couple of weeks. We went for a long walk around McRitchie reservoir which is flanked by second generation forest. Tame monkeys play around many corners, two metre monitor lizards creep through the brush, turtles’ heads poke above the surface of the water and a vast variety of butterflies flutter by. All this is about a ten minute bus journey from my home and it’s the first time I’ve been in about five months of living here. I’m always a bit surprised by guide books about the region that say Singapore is only good for a trip of less than a week. Sure, it’s only a tiny island without the scope of Thailand, Indonesia or Laos maybe, but there’s plenty of experiences to be had.

Which brings me on to Sunday. It was Hari Raya Hajj, the Islamic festival of sacrifice. Found myself at a Mosque. 91 sheep had been purchased and shipped in from Indonesia - there are no sheep or cows here at all. There was an information booklet which explained that this was a time in which Muslims show their love and compassion for people and for animals. The meat is shared out – 1/3 is for oneself, and can be distributed amongst friends and family, 1/3 is for poor Muslims and the other third can be given to non-Muslims.

So much for compassion for people. The compassion for animals bit was slightly harder to follow (or perhaps I should say swallow). Apparently the sheep are well rested and content before they are slaughtered. According to research they are slaughtered in a way which is almost painless – within 6 seconds after the throat is slit, the animal is dead.

What I saw, however, was disturbing. The sheep had been delayed at the port. They were already over a day late, so whether they’d been left on the boat, or herded into a pen for hours, I don’t know. When they finally arrived, they were chased into the mosque through a makeshift sheep run, some dragged by the horns, one dragged by the hind leg and seemed anything other than rested. Many tried to escape, running in the opposite direction of the one in front, which I thought was most unsheeplike and perhaps evidence that these sheep were anything but rested amd content. They seemed to sense that something wasn’t quite right. This was surely exacerbated by the noisy, excited crowd, baying for blood.

The sheep were deposited in a makeshift pen behind the mosque. After a few minutes, the animals were brought out a couple at a time, their throats were slit, their bodies were knelt on to force the blood out, they were hung up and skinned very quickly, then butchered before our eyes.

What was I doing there? I asked myself this a number of times while I was waiting for the delayed sheep. I was with some friends and doubt very much whether I would have gone alone. It was a disturbing and bizarre experience. Everything had been explained to us as if this was quite humane and quite normal – even holy. I wasn’t in the least bit bloodthirsty. I turn away from wildlife documentaries when insects are eaten by snakes etc. In the words of Uncle Monty, "as a youth, I used to weep in butcher’s shops…" I was clearly nervous before the sheep arrived, because I was making pathetic jokes about being a bit "sheepish" about how em"baa"rassed I would be if I was sick...

I suppose I went for several reasons. I was curious to see a religious festival that I doubt I’d see at home. I was curious as a meat eater – this is perhaps the most compelling reason why I stayed – if I eat meat I feel I should be aware of what happens before it arrives on my plate – although I’m sure that the processes involved in killing many animals for meat are far more disturbing than this. I wanted to see how people reacted. I wanted to know how I’d react. It’s a strange ethical issue and I felt like I should probably see this and decide whether continuing to eat meat was something I wanted to do.

I think the overriding feeling I had was one of helplessness. Part of me wanted to rescue a couple of the sheep. I didn’t want to stand by and watch as animals were slaughtered. Of course, I disagree with animal cruelty of any kind. And yet I eat meat. How could I even begin to think this just because it wasn’t happening behind closed doors? What a hypocrite.

And, of course, I’m (still) far too English to do anything except stand by and watch as someone else does something that I’m not entirely sure I agree with which involves the slaughtering of innocents. It’s what we do best…

The thing that will stick in my mind for longest was one sheep which I watched in stunned silence as it continued to struggle, kick and flinch for about five minutes after its throat had been slit. According to the information we’d received beforehand, it was already dead. Eventually, one of the slaughterers approached it, knelt down, stroked its head and gently, almost tenderly, squeezed its body, pushing the remnants of life out through the hole he'd made in its neck.