cortège des moutons: tabaski
Tabaski is a Muslim holiday that celebrates that story where God is like yo Ibrahim if you love me you'll kill your son and he's like ugh, fine and he brings his son Ishmael to the top of a mountain and is gonna kill him but then God's like whoa whoa whoa just kidding don't kill him just kill this lamb instead but--hey--thanks for caring bb I know u a real one.
The story is very similar in Christianity! In fact, the only difference is that Christians believe Ibrahim brought his other son, Isaac. I make light of it here but in all honesty, and with all due respect, it's a beautiful story that reminds believers of their undying faith and trust in both God's ends and his means.
The Senegalese celebrate Tabaski by killing sheep on their terraces and spending the whole day skinning, cooking, and eating them. I for one, was especially grateful that I'd chosen to hang a weeks worth of panties up to dry that particular morning. Anyway, my family had killed 3 moutons by way of knife to jugular before 10 am! I watched, shades down, jaw dropped, Mere Tall's gentle hand on my shoulder, my panties swaying endlessly above us, and beneath us I could hear the neighbor's moutons sing. It was the first time I looked cold death in the eyes and thought damn, can't wait to lather you up in onion slaw and chow.
Despite the fact that I've always eaten meat, I've never seen it this way. I've never seen how a cute lil cow turns into a cheeseburger. This is not the avoidant, American way--no. Never that. Tabaski also took place only a few days after my arrival. Suffice to say it was a culture shock. As I watched them kill each mouton, I couldn't help but consider how the other moutons felt. Watching their friends walk to death. I couldn't help but consider which mouton was the hardest to watch. Not just for me, but for the other moutons.
Let's get existential, shall we?
The argument can be made for the first mouton. Easy. You're hangin with ur pals on this roof, right. Y'all are having a sleepover. You get the sense that something's up. Hey--why are we on this roof? Why are these people salivating? Whatever....
Then next thing you know the first mouton is being pulled to the other side of the terrace, let's call him Jake. Jake is being pulled to the other side of the terrace while his friends Ben and Bill are tied in such a way that they have no choice but to watch. What's gonna happen? They must be thinking. This doesn't look good. Not at all. They're like fuck--Jake--it's gonna be okay Jake--just breathe, Jake. Then Jake dies.
The mystery's gone. That sweet mystery that they'd clung to, that said don't assume the worst--it could be anything. Shattered. That's why the argument for the second mouton makes a lot of sense too. You see, Ben KNEW what was going to happen to him. That's an entirely new type of fear. So the question we must ask is is was it easier for Jake, not knowing his fate? There was certainly anxiety there. Or Ben, who not only saw his friend die, but now knew exactly what was coming from him? What's worse: the pain of uncertainty, or the pain of a certain death? If only I could ask the moutons :(
Ben showed the most restraint. He was a fighter. Not only because he knew what was to happen to him, but because he still had something to live for: Bill.
Bill. I mean, shit, Bill. Not only did he watch two friends die, but he has to cope with the guilt of not doing enough. Guilt--because he knew what was to become of Ben, but had no ability to stop it. I think Bill may have been the hardest to watch, because he hardly put up a fight. There was an element of acceptance that wasn't present with the other moutons. He had to ask himself a question. Even if he managed to escape this death, an unlikely pursuit, what would it even be for? What's it all about? With not a friend in sight?
So what lesson are we to take from the cortège des moutons? Outside of the religious metaphor, of course. Are we to consider Durkheim's anomie? Is it the case that without relationships we break the bonds of social order, and thereby have nothing to live for? Maybe. Maybe that's what it's all about. That's all I have to say about that for now.
The story is very similar in Christianity! In fact, the only difference is that Christians believe Ibrahim brought his other son, Isaac. I make light of it here but in all honesty, and with all due respect, it's a beautiful story that reminds believers of their undying faith and trust in both God's ends and his means.
The Senegalese celebrate Tabaski by killing sheep on their terraces and spending the whole day skinning, cooking, and eating them. I for one, was especially grateful that I'd chosen to hang a weeks worth of panties up to dry that particular morning. Anyway, my family had killed 3 moutons by way of knife to jugular before 10 am! I watched, shades down, jaw dropped, Mere Tall's gentle hand on my shoulder, my panties swaying endlessly above us, and beneath us I could hear the neighbor's moutons sing. It was the first time I looked cold death in the eyes and thought damn, can't wait to lather you up in onion slaw and chow.
Despite the fact that I've always eaten meat, I've never seen it this way. I've never seen how a cute lil cow turns into a cheeseburger. This is not the avoidant, American way--no. Never that. Tabaski also took place only a few days after my arrival. Suffice to say it was a culture shock. As I watched them kill each mouton, I couldn't help but consider how the other moutons felt. Watching their friends walk to death. I couldn't help but consider which mouton was the hardest to watch. Not just for me, but for the other moutons.
Let's get existential, shall we?
The argument can be made for the first mouton. Easy. You're hangin with ur pals on this roof, right. Y'all are having a sleepover. You get the sense that something's up. Hey--why are we on this roof? Why are these people salivating? Whatever....
Then next thing you know the first mouton is being pulled to the other side of the terrace, let's call him Jake. Jake is being pulled to the other side of the terrace while his friends Ben and Bill are tied in such a way that they have no choice but to watch. What's gonna happen? They must be thinking. This doesn't look good. Not at all. They're like fuck--Jake--it's gonna be okay Jake--just breathe, Jake. Then Jake dies.
The mystery's gone. That sweet mystery that they'd clung to, that said don't assume the worst--it could be anything. Shattered. That's why the argument for the second mouton makes a lot of sense too. You see, Ben KNEW what was going to happen to him. That's an entirely new type of fear. So the question we must ask is is was it easier for Jake, not knowing his fate? There was certainly anxiety there. Or Ben, who not only saw his friend die, but now knew exactly what was coming from him? What's worse: the pain of uncertainty, or the pain of a certain death? If only I could ask the moutons :(
Ben showed the most restraint. He was a fighter. Not only because he knew what was to happen to him, but because he still had something to live for: Bill.
Bill. I mean, shit, Bill. Not only did he watch two friends die, but he has to cope with the guilt of not doing enough. Guilt--because he knew what was to become of Ben, but had no ability to stop it. I think Bill may have been the hardest to watch, because he hardly put up a fight. There was an element of acceptance that wasn't present with the other moutons. He had to ask himself a question. Even if he managed to escape this death, an unlikely pursuit, what would it even be for? What's it all about? With not a friend in sight?
So what lesson are we to take from the cortège des moutons? Outside of the religious metaphor, of course. Are we to consider Durkheim's anomie? Is it the case that without relationships we break the bonds of social order, and thereby have nothing to live for? Maybe. Maybe that's what it's all about. That's all I have to say about that for now.
Definitely a lesson to ponder !
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