Eyes on qurbani

In her third blog for Islamic Relief, Hiba Ben Abdennabi, media and communication officer at Islamic Relief Albania, takes us on an imagined journey* through preparations for the annual qurbani food distribution.

I am a sheep
I can feel the rays of sunlight shining on my closed eyelids and the fresh breeze tickling my nose. I open my eyes slowly and welcome this new day with a light heart. I look over to the rest of the sleeping herd and I realise that I’m the only one up. I slowly stand on all fours and stretch my muscles. I take a look to the right and see the tall green grass dancing in waves on the nearby hill.

I’ve always liked the feeling of grass brushing over my fur. Sneakily, I squeeze through the gap between the fence and run towards the grass. The birds in the nearby trees seem to have started their morning discussions. And right on cue, I jump into the silky smooth bundle of thin green bands. The morning dew covers every single strand, turning it into a refreshing giant brush. Feeling enlivened, I start running around playing with the grass.

I hear something and raise my ears for a better listen. I look back and see the farmer coming my way. It is that special time of the day that we both cherish. As usual, he greets me as he pats my back with his big hands and starts cuddling me. We both enjoy each other’s company but something about today is different. Our interaction is telling me that we’re performing our farewell ritual.

I am a farmer
I ask if it enjoys the grass that much. It wiggles its fluffy ears as if nodding. I lovingly pat its head and we stand there for a while. We both know that we are saying our goodbyes. But nothing about this moment is sad for either of us. It is because he and I both know that we are fulfilling our obligation. Today we celebrate the end of the 10 greatest days of the year, and God chose us to take part in this important moment.

After a while, we start making our way back to the farm. I open the fence even though we both know that it can squeeze back into the pen without my help. The sound of a car horn is coming from afar. They must be here.

I am a driver
Everyone is loading the sheep into the vehicle. All of the animals seem healthy and calm. The farmer approaches me wishing me a happy Eid. I wish him the same, telling him to not worry – I am going to drive carefully, transporting every animal safely to its destination.

I am a slaughterhouse worker
I open the gate for the vehicle and greet the driver while he parks in front of the large hall. The slaughterhouse is ready for the big day. The floors are squeaky clean, the machinery is ready and everyone is feeling energetic after praying together in the nearby mosque. The manager walks towards us accompanied by the imam, the vet and some Islamic Relief staff. Bright eyes and wide smiles fill the air with serenity while the sheep are being unloaded.

I am a vet
Even though I do this on a daily basis, performing my usual tasks takes on a whole other meaning during Eid. I’m providing much more than a simple check-up – it is vital to make sure that none of the animals suffer from any injuries or illnesses. The ones that seem unwell, I am sure to remove from the group for treatment. As for the rest, I create a detailed report of their physical condition and stamp my approval. I observe the animals as they stand in the entrance of the slaughterhouse. Meanwhile, the imam and the rest of the team are already inside.

I am an imam
Bismillah arrahman arrahim wa Allahu akbar. Oh Allah, accept this udhiyah (animal sacrifice) from you and to you on behalf of your servants during these holy days of Eid.

It is honestly an honour to be present during such a symbolic ceremony that has been carried out by Muslims for centuries. It is not just the survival of Ishmael that we Muslims celebrate this day – his father’s devotion to fulfil Allah’s order by sacrificing his own son is also an event that needs to be commemorated. And what makes today even more special is the fact that all of these sacrifices will be given to families in need. May Allah accept their good deeds and bless them.

I am an Islamic Relief staff member
Mashallah, my happiness can’t be contained as I witness the barakah (blessing) of this day already. All of the effort that has been put into the qurbani project for the past few months is finally bearing fruit. Qurbani is one of those projects that unites all of the departments of Islamic Relief. The whole office moves as one body towards a united goal.

Despite the heavy load, the work line in the slaughterhouse is impressive. Just like ants through the summer heat, in full synchronisation, everyone is preforming their tasks with the highest level of professionalism, from the slaughtering, to the cutting and weighing of the meat, all the way to the meat packaging point. Surprisingly, witnessing the big stacks of meat packages filling the huge carts and moving into the freezer warms my heart. Indeed, compassion still drives the ummah (community) to do good.

These days are about sharing joy and, Alhamdulilah, with the help of Allah and then the donations of fellow Muslims, we will be able to bring food to the tables of families in need and enable them to feel Eid as they should.

I am a volunteer
This is my second year in a row volunteering with Islamic Relief, so I feel more confident this time around as I carry out my duties during the meat pack distribution. The distribution point that I am assigned to is crowded with people, but I know what to do because of the training provided by the volunteer leader. I organise the table, putting the list of rightsholders and the complaint box on top of it. I see that the rest of the team has hung the banner in a perfect place and started handing out the safeguarding and complaints leaflets to the people waiting. Soon enough, the team representative starts explaining the way the distribution will take place and I get ready to become a part of the human chain that will deliver the meat pack to those in need.

At first, I thought getting involved in the distribution would help me learn new skills and stay healthy. But the more I think about it, the more it becomes apparent that the mental reward of volunteering is endless. They say that community engagement makes a difference and it does, it starts from within the individual and gets reflected out, touching all the members of the community.

I hand a meat pack and the person in front of me says: “Thank you, may Allah bless you!”

I smile and wish them a blissful Eid. Believe me when I say, the joy they express is unforgettable.

I am a rightsholder
I always like to come here with my grandma. I know all of the aunties and uncles that wear the blue uniform: “Salam Ahmad, Happy Eid! Mashallah, you’re a big boy now!”

I smile shyly. An auntie approaches me and gives me a lollipop. I first look at my grandma for permission to take the lollipop. There are so many children here, some of them I’ve never seen before and others I see from time to time. We play together as we wait in line. My grandma takes my hand as she moves towards the table and then to the place where everyone takes the package. I want to see what’s inside the package, but grandma is moving fast.

I don’t know what’s inside but I know that today dinner will be different. As we head towards the gate, I look back and wave my hands at the auntie with the camera.

Each year, Islamic Relief distributes food parcels, containing meat, to vulnerable families in Albania and around the world so that they can celebrate Eid al-Adha with a hearty meal. Please help us to continue this work. Donate now.

Hiba is one of our regular bloggers. Each month, she’ll share stories from her work at Islamic Relief.

*Editor’s note: The perspectives in this ‘imagined journey’ are based on interviews with individuals involved in each step of preparations for the qurbani distribution, as well as first-hand observation, and accurately reflect the process. For the sheep’s perspective, we relied on imagination alone.