Sheep in the Kitchen.

11.14.2010

Happy birthday dear American father!

My host father just brought home the sheep for Eid Kbir. For now, it lives in the kitchen. All I can think right now is: this is how people get infectious diseases. (I must remind myself not to read anything about the plague or mad cow disease for the next week.) I can smell the barnyard smells. Num num.

I have a feeling Eid Kbir is going to be something I should worry about. I wish I was not one of those soft hearted people who cares about animals. I am the wrong kind of person in this country.  I am just waiting to come home so my host parents can ask me to photograph the slaughtering of the sheep in the kitchen. Goodnight mr. sheep, it’s been nice knowing you.

All I know is that I don’t think I’m going to be able to eat the brain or the stomach. 

I will put up pictures of the sheep I promise, but for now you will have to be satisfied with a picture of some camels that I took on the beach in Mehdia. (A city on the coast near Rabat).